Page 140 of Cakes for the Grump
I wince at the name, and my friends and Uncle pretend not to see.
“—they helped him win business deals. Like c’mon, you deserve a cut of those profits! Ask him to pay up.”
I’m scrolling through online job postings, trying to find anything entry-level. Why does entry-level need two to three years of experience? Isn’t that contradictory?
“He would pay up,” I mumble. I know he would. I could ask Luke for anything and he would give it to me. But it’s me who can’t be what he needs. The longer I’m in Mumbai, the clearer it is that we’re from completely different worlds. Here I heat water in the kettle to have a warm bath. There, a press of a finger sets off ten different jet settings in the standalone marbled shower stall. More than that, though, I can’t stay in Barcelona where Abbot Industries is. I’m needed here in Mumbai. Dad needs me. Uncle does. My friends need me.
And Iwantthem.
Iwantthis city. Being away has been a hole I had to learn to live with.
Luke—he’s busy with Abbot Industries. He needs to present a certain lifestyle in those meetings, and to have a certain fiancée on his arm, and to be around a certain kind of people. It’s his life. It’s his legacy. He’s heir tothe throne. No matter how I think it through, I can’t see a way to bridge us together.
At the core of me…I’m a woman sitting in her kurta in front of our millennia old fan with afternoon plans of going to the market to grab some vegetables and protein for dinner this week.
“I can make tandoori roti for us,” I say to the group. “There’s a garlic-chili butter mashup that will taste good if I lightly brush it over for seasoning.”
“See! See! You can’t stop! It’s your passion!” Noor throws her hands up in the air.
“Hobby,” I repeat forcefully.
Kiren crosses her arms. “You know what? It’s fine. You keep searching for what you think is a safe job, and we’ll do the work of carrying your dreams while you take a break. Just promise me, you’ll cooperate with helping us help you too, if needed.”
“That’s vague. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your friends are good people,” Uncle adds, throwing in his support. “Trust them.”
I roll my eyes, then huff out a sigh. “If it gets too annoying, I’m kiboshing whatever you want me to do. I really need to focus and get some stability back in my life.”
Noor and Kiren high-five each other in the face of my loose agreement, and then high-five Uncle.
Uncle doesn’t commenton how it’s a very particular news story I keep hunting for either on the television, my phone or my laptop.
I wake up and check. I apply for jobs and check. I make lunch and help Uncle do physiotherapy and check. After my friends visit and leave, I check. At night, I check—a few times.
Closure?
No, I just need to make sure his deal went through.
That I didn’t harm anything by leaving the conference so suddenly.
The headlines:
Luke Abbot and the Board of Abbot Industries: The Feud of the Century
EU antitrust regulators to review Abbot, Intel deal, sources say
Two Giants With Polar Opposite Values: Experts Weigh In On How This Merger Even Got To The Table
“The chai is going to boil over,” says Kiren, “if you don’t get off your phone, Rita.”
She doesn’t comment on what I’m reading, but takes over standing by the stove. She also casually let it drop that, “Noor and I have subscribed to MealKits Masala’snewsletter, and we’ve started compiling a list of all the important people in that company, and also whotheirbusiness associates are in the cooking industry.”
I put my phone down, unable to understand whatviolating fiduciary dutiesmeans from the article I’m reading, but make a note to look it up later. “If I apply to fine-dining restaurants, they’ll start me at the bottom and pay me barely anything. Do you know that insurance company in Chembur? Their starting pay means I’ll have savings I can grow.Savings, Kiren! It’s such a novel concept.”
Kiren strains the chai into tea cups. “I understand that, Rita. But have you thought about how it doesn’t have to be fine-dining in the traditional way? You might not be destined to be a famous chef like Sanjeev Kapoor, but there is room for chef Rita Singh out there. There are so many ways to skin a cat.”
“I’m not skinning any cat.”
