I hadn’t even known how stressed I was until I started to talk to her about Vinnie’s wedding and the storm, and Mom’s jewelry, and my family, and Vir, and so on.
“Don’t you worry, it’ll all come together,” she said.
“So many of the guests are stranded in airports all over the country,” I said. “My grandfather and my two little cousins are in London—their flight has been delayed too. I don’t want them to miss the wedding.” I leaned my head back so she could shampoo my hair.
“Whoever is meant to be there will get there,” she said, rinsing out my hair in warm water. “Don’t you fret. It’s better that everyone’s safe on the ground somewhere, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “There are a lot of people who were coming to the wedding who have had flights canceled: from Miami, Dallas, San Francisco, and Chicago. Airlines don’t want to take a chance.”
“But your ninety-two-year-old great-grandfather got here from India,” she said.
“Right, because he came early,” I said.
“Just take it one step at a time,” she said, wrapping my head in a towel and pointing me to a chair. “What’s next?”
“The janvasam at the temple—that’s tonight,” I said.
“That’s the engagement sort of thing,” she said. “And then?”
“Then the mehendi tomorrow,” I said.
“At your house?” she asked.
“Yeah, but we’re prepared for that. They’re delivering the tables and chairs tonight and we’re setting everything up in the morning.”
“And the wedding is on Sunday,” she said.
“Sunday morning now,” I said.
“So three events in three days,” she said as she clipped the last rollers into place. “Just take it one step at a time.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You have half an hour under the dryer,” she said, turning on the domelike dryer over my head. “Read a magazine, and I’ll get you some tea.”
I had five minutes of peace—the calm before the storm—before my phone rang. It was Vinnie. Vinnie sounding strangely calm and clinical as she broke the horrible news. Massachusetts had declared a state of emergency and all state parks were to be closed on Sunday—including River Bend. There was no venue anymore.
The wedding was off.
“I’ll get home as soon as I can, okay?” I said. “We’ll think of something, Vinnie, I promise.”
“What’s wrong?” the hairdresser asked.
I told her.
“My grandparents got married in a hurricane, you know,” she said. “There was no one there but ten people and a preacher—it can be done.”
“Even if we find another venue,” I said, “how are we going to let everyone know and change all the arrangements?”
“You can’t do it without help,” she said. “So anyone who’s ever said let us know if we can do anything—call them. Tell them what you need. They will feel better if they can help.”
“Okay,” I said. “I will.”
“Attagirl,” she said. “Now let’s make your hair look gorgeous.”
An hour later I emerged rested, determined, and ready to do battle with that storm. When I turned on the radio in the car, the WBUR news team was reporting live from MEMA headquarters, confirming that the governor had declared a state of emergency ahead of Indra. They were expecting it to hit by Saturday night. I shook my newly styled hair in disbelief. It didn’t seem real that a Category 2 storm with hundred-mile-an-hour winds could potentially arrive in Westbury the weekend of Vinnie’s wedding. But that’s exactly what it looked like right now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“They don’t have a choice,” Vinnie said. “The State of Massachusetts has ordered them shut.”
“So we’ll find an alternative venue,” I said. I didn’t even believe it. We both knew how far in advance places got booked.
“We tried,” Vinnie said. “Dad’s been on the phone ever since we left River Bend. Everything outdoor is canceled and everything indoor is booked.”
We had to think outside the box. “How about here?” A wild idea was taking hold of me. “At our house! Tomorrow—before the storm hits hard!”
“Are you crazy?” Vinnie said. “We can’t fit over a hundred people in here. Even with the people canceling, we’ll have at least that many people.”
“Maybe not inside,” I said, and grabbed my car keys. “But we have the yard—at least until it starts raining. I’ll be back, Vinnie!”
“But where are you going?” Vinnie wailed.
“Just get ready for the janvasam,” I said, and gave her a kiss. “And try not to worry.”
I hopped into the car and pushed a button on my cell phone—it’s a good thing I had Talbot Rental on speed dial. The ringtone buzzed at the other end. Pick up, pick up, pick up—dang it! Someone rapped on my car window as I backed slowly out into the street.
Vir!
I had nearly run him over—if you can run anyone over at two miles an hour.
You can’t do it without help. The hairdresser’s stern voice sounded in my head. Tell them what you need.
I stopped the car and jumped out.
“Vir, drive the car!” I said. “I have to make a phone call.”
“You trust me with your car?” he said, looking warily at me.
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “My dad let you drive his Lotus!”
“Fine, fine, I’ll drive,” he said.
There was a charged silence as he eased the Mini up the hill. The bitter words we had exchanged crackled between us, demanding resolution, but this was not the time.
“Er… where exactly are we going?” Vir asked.
“The Westbury Town Hall,” I said. “If they’re still open!”
He was an excellent driver—even I sometimes stall at the top of the hill, but not Vir. Meanwhile someone at Talbot Rental answered the phone. “Hi,” I said. “I’d like to book a tent for tomorrow, please.”
“What kind of tent?” the girl asked.
“A twenty-foot-by-forty-foot tent,” I said after consulting my notepad. Yeah, that was the
