Her palms were bare and tan and decidedly unbridelike. “Ohhh!” Vinnie said. “Do you think I could go to the mehendi lady?”
“I’ve called and canceled, and she said not to worry and that she’ll stay up late and do it for you whenever you can get to her,” I said.
“But she’s all the way over in Lexington, right?” Vinnie said. “That’s an hour and a half just to get there and back, and how long to put it on?”
“One hour,” I said. “If she does a rush job.”
Vinnie looked resigned. “Guess I’m getting married without the mehendi, then. No way I can spend two to three hours on just that tonight. We won’t even be out of here before ten-thirty—it’s more important to get the word out.”
“Or,” I said, “we can put it on you—Masi and me. It won’t be great but at least it will be mehendi.”
“You’re forgetting that we don’t have any mehendi,” Vinnie said.
“We will,” I said. “Dad’s on it. This is delicious, by the way!” The vadas and rasam and curd rice they served up after the ceremony were to die for.
“There is so much food left,” Ragini Aunty said. “Maybe you can take it home? It might come in handy tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I said. Good thing I had cleaned out the entire fridge last weekend. We had plenty of room to store stuff.
“Where’s your father?” Venkat Uncle asked. “I want to introduce him to my brother-in-law.”
“He had to run out on an errand, Uncle,” I said. “He’ll be back soon!”
“Oh, yes, there he is now,” Venkat Uncle said. So soon! Either Dad had floored it all the way to Framingham or the store was closed. I must have looked worried because Dad held up a grocery bag in one hand and gave me a lopsided grin and a cheerful thumbs-up.
Yeah, he had floored it.
“Vinod, I have to ask you for a favor,” Venkat Uncle said. “I heard what happened with that fellow Sondhi you hired to cater for the wedding on our recommendation. Please accept this check for what you paid him from our side. Please.”
The check was made out for the full amount Sondhi had cashed. Dad looked from it to Venkat Uncle and shook his head.
“No need for that. I will make the guy refund it!” Dad said. “And even if he doesn’t, it’s fine.”
“He may not give back the full amount,” Venkat Uncle said. “And you still have so many expenses. It’s not right that the bride’s side pay for everything. I don’t understand why we have so many functions anyway.”
“I don’t either,” Dad said. “But my wife, she would have loved…” His voice cracked for a second as he glanced over at Vinnie and Manish—smiling, happy, surrounded by people—and I reached over to grab his hand. “Look, please don’t worry, we don’t need the help.”
“I am sure,” Venkat Uncle said. “But it’s not if you need it; it’s the principle, you see. It’s both our children’s wedding. We should help.”
He was not going to take no for an answer.
“Okay,” Dad said, smiling. “If you insist.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” I said.
“No thanks required,” Venkat Uncle said. “We’re all family now.”
Late Friday night, Masi and I were with Vinnie in her hotel room. She had a room at the Newton Grand, where the wedding stylist was supposed to come in the morning to do her makeup and hair and to drape her chunni. We had forced Dad to go home to bed, since there wasn’t much he could do. Vinnie was typing, texting, and calling with one hand while I held a tube of henna over the other.
“Hold still, dammit!” I said. “I’m falling asleep here!”
“Okay, okay,” she said. I was attempting to execute one of the designs she had picked off the internet. Thankfully for all of us, her tastes ran to simple symmetrical florals and paisleys. Masi had recused herself from the task of actually putting on the mehendi on the grounds of having bad eyesight and shaky hands. As if! She confined herself to critiquing my efforts, not that I wasn’t already nervous enough or anything, and also helping Vinnie type and take her calls—which was actually very handy.
“So, why did we have to cancel the horse?” Masi asked.
“What horse?” Vinnie asked.
“It was going to be a surprise,” I said. “Manish was such a sport about it!”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Vinnie said. “What happened to it?”
“The Patel-Bernstein wedding,” I explained. “They’ve had to reschedule too.” They must be dealing with the same crazy weather scenario we were.
“Oh, the poor things,” Vinnie said. “How long it must have taken them to plan that wedding. I really, really hope it doesn’t rain on their parade!”
“I’m just glad Shoma Moorty is willing to do our decorations before rushing off to do theirs,” I said. When Vinnie had called her and explained the situation, she had asked for an hour before confirming she could do the decorations at the temple in time for a nine o’clock wedding. Then she had called back and said she would—in spite of the Patel-Bernstein wedding. She would have to be there at what, five o’clock? Pure steel, our Shoma Aunty.
“Turn over your hand,” I said, and continued the design over the back of Vinnie’s hand. “Ooops! Masi—toothpick!” Masi handed me one and I carefully wiped off the blooper.
“Okay, done. There, now hold your palm outstretched, don’t smudge it while it’s wet, and don’t wash it off for at least two hours,” I said.
Vinnie held up her hands and scanned my work. “That looks totally legit, Mini,” she said. “You’re a pro.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You’re only saying that because you’re stuck with it. Do you want some on your feet too?”
“Just a little…,” Vinnie said. I worked a trail of vines and flowers from her big toe across the top of her foot to her heel and wrapped around her ankle. “How’s
