Page 48 of The Matchmaker

“How’s the honeymoon planning going?” I immediately regret my question when I see her grimace.

“That’s up in the air. I’m exploring a plan B. Something local and less pricey. There’s a cute bed-and-breakfast in Savannah that I think could work. Low-key honeymoons are catching onthese days. You know, for all their extravagance with the wedding, Lena and Tanvir are honeymooning at a resort off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina. It’s two grand a night for the penthouse suite, but I was sure they’d end up in Bali for a month.”

Lena and Tanvir. I glance around. People are checking their phones. The hushed murmurs are growing louder. I turn to Darcy. “I’m sure she’s just gotten tied up in a dress snafu or something, but can you text Lena to make sure she’s all right?”

“Sure.” She pulls out her phone.

I tap my feet and try to wish away the whisper of dread crawling up my spine. That it’s happening again. Someone slipped in. Left a note. Something’s wrong.

“The text isn’t going through.” Darcy frowns. “Let me call her.” She holds the phone to her ear. Shakes her head. “Straight to voicemail.”

“I need to find Raheema.”

I’m about to seek her out when I hear a commotion behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a glint of metal. Handcuffs. Police officers hurry inside. They brush past me.

Heart pounding, I trail behind them. Raheema and her husband are inside a room off to the side. They’re holding hands. Raheema is trembling. There is no bride here. No groom.

I feel sick. Two weddings sabotaged in a matter of weeks. Whatever was done this time had been enough to prompt the parents to call the police. Raheema spots me. Tearfully, she waves me in.

“I don’t understand.” Her voice trembles. She clutches my arm. “How is this happening?”

I start to tell her that whatever note she found is likely forged, but she speaks first.

“Tanvir and Lena are missing.”

Thirteen

It’s not supposed to be like this.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The best man adjusts the microphone. The high-pitched feedback makes everyone wince. He clears his throat and tries again. “If we can have your attention, please.”

At this late hour, we should be gearing up for the final mehndi rituals. The drink of milk the bride’s sisters will offer the groom in exchange for money. Aunties should be lining up to feed them each a bite of sweet laddu.

Instead, Tanvir’s father hovers next to the emcee. He buttons and unbuttons his sherwani vest. Despite the frigid air-conditioning blasting through the ballroom, his forehead gleams with perspiration. The police crowd before the stage like groupies waiting for the main performance.

“If I could just have a moment of your time,” Tanvir’s friend says. “We wanted to see if anyone has heard from Lena or Tanvir and—”

The groom’s father snags the mic from him. When he speaks his voice is three octaves higher than I expected from the tall, imposing individual. “There’s no need to worry,” he says hurriedly. “But if you have any ideas where they might be, or ifsome sort of situation came up, we’d love to be apprised of it as soon as possible.”

Guests break off into groups. Mumbling in hushed voices.

“Some sort of situation?” a woman near me asks. “What does that mean?”

“Feema told me they ran off to Vegas this morning,” another woman standing next to us says as a growing crowd of ladies huddle closer, all dripping in gold.

“They’re eloping?” gasps another. “What was this all for if they never planned on showing up?”

“We all know how dramatic Tanvir can be.”

“How much do you wager that he’s changed his mind?” someone else asks. “You know he was still moping over the elephant.”

“Goodness. I hope the marriage is still on. Canceling could certainly complicate things,” says another woman. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Lena was looking a little…healthy at the bridal shower, if you know what I mean.”

“I noticed that too!” someone else says.

I move away from them. Darcy hurries after me.

“Shouldn’t we keep listening?” she asks. “Maybe they know something.”

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