Page 48 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Ma doesn’t even know her.”

“I was talking to her about Tara, and she asked if she’d like to join us for dinner tonight.” He gave me an arm-pat and turned to Mom. “Chachi, some wine?”

“No, thank you, beta.”

Mom turned to Tara, who exuded ease and confidence, but I could tell she was quaking in her shoes meeting my mother for the first time. Perhaps she hadn’t thought it through when she accepted the invitation, and it tickled me. She wore a beautiful embroidered Indian short top and jeans, paired with oxidized metal earrings and stylish pumps. But with delicate eyeliner and a subtle shade of lipstick, she looked uncharacteristically demure for the feisty woman that she was.

“Tell me, what do you do, Tara? Are you an artist like Amar?” Mom asked.

“Yes, and I’m also an art consultant.” She explained her job and what had brought her to Dallas.

“That’s wonderful.” Mom looked at Amar and Aarti with pride. “You kids are so accomplished.”

Dad found his opening and wasted no time. “Do you know Sameer also attended your college?”

“Yes,” Tara said politely.

“Do you know why he was sent to a small city like Badauda?” he asked with visible disdain.

“Because it has one of the best fine arts colleges in the country?” Tara delivered the tart reply with a sweet smile, and I tried to suppress a chuckle. Atta girl!

But Dad recovered swiftly. “Yes, Amar said they were the best years of his life.”

“It’s a beautiful city with a rich history and warm people,” Amar added.

“Yes, but that’s not the reason we sent Sameer there.” My insides burned with anger and humiliation at Dad’s efforts to prove his point.

“Shall we eat?” Mom redirected in her gentle, classy manner.

“Yes,” Amar and I blurted in unison.

When we gathered around the table, I turned my attention to Aarti. Amar and Tara sat across from us, with Mom on Tara’s right. Dad was at the head of the table.

“I would love to see your work someday.” Mom smiled as she passed Tara the chicken korma.

“Would you like to come to the opening with Amar?” Tara asked with raised brows. “I can send your invitations with his.”

“That would be wonderful,” Mom replied, turning to me. “Are you both going?”

I nodded.

“So, Aarti, how are your parents?”

“They’re well, Aunty. Although they’re getting impatient that we still haven’t decided on a date.” She looked pointedly at me. “Sameer keeps dragging his feet. I’ve started to doubt if he’s at all serious about us.” When she placed a teasing hand on my arm, my heart began racing.

“We also want you to decide soon.” Dad jumped in. It was his favorite subject, after all.

“They’re getting engaged, but we want a proper ceremony, so we’re asking them to pick a date that works for them,” Mom explained to Tara.

This time, I couldn’t avoid looking at her and saw sorrow and disappointment flash across her face. But she followed it up with a big smile. “That’s wonderful, congratulations.”

She smiled at Aarti, while Amar warned me with a stern look that said, “What are you doing, dude?”

I scuttled to change the subject. “Guess what?” I draped an arm around Aarti and said, “We managed to snag a Selfia for the office. It was a bidding war, but Aarti’s agent is quite clever.”

Aarti beamed. “Sameer wanted it so badly, she was determined to make it happen!”

I scanned Amar for a reaction and caught him exchanging a look with Tara before offering Aarti a conciliatory nod.

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