The Sari Shop Widow

by Shobhan Bantwal

  “That’s not the way it is,” he said, sounding like a patient schoolteacher. He bent down to pick up the scarf and handed it to her. “Without knowing the details of our plan, you’re simply jumping to conclusions.”

  Carefully placing the scarf back around the mannequin’s neck, she started to move toward the office. “Then why don’t you and Jeevan-kaka enlighten me and my parents? Let’s hear what your grand plan is all about.” She generally didn’t make barbed remarks, but she couldn’t help saying, “Buy-one-get-one-free specials on rare diamonds from South Africa? Chania-cholis and shervanis made of polyester and rayon? Blue-light specials on Myanmar rubies?”

  “Blue-light specials?” He laughed. “Is that an American marketing concept?”

  “Not funny, Mr. Shah.” She was trying hard not to burst into tears.

  “It wasn’t meant to be funny.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. “I’m trying to learn some American merchandising terms.”

  She stopped in her tracks abruptly. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, but my parents and I are under a lot of stress at the moment. My sense of humor is on…vacation.”

  “I understand. Mine frequently takes a holiday,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. The left eye, with its puffy lid, looked smaller than the right when he smiled.

  She realized something. The flash of humor in his face was like a mantle lifting away from him. A human being existed underneath that cold, granite-like façade. And she wasn’t sure whether she liked or disliked the discovery.

  Her uncle saw them approaching. “Here they are.” He motioned to them to step inside the office. “Rishi, I was waiting for you so we could tell them together what you and I were discussing.”

  Anjali looked at her parents. It was hard to judge what her father was thinking; he wore a puzzled frown. Her mother looked tense, brittle enough to shatter.

  “Rishi, tell them, beta,” said Jeevan, looking pleased and paternal. “He has a brilliant plan, Mohan,” he assured his brother.

  Shah stood with his hands in his pockets and surveyed the room for a moment, once again seemingly studying every detail, down to the last thumbtack holding up a newspaper cutting on the wall. “You have a marvelous store here. Jeevan-kaka and I are impressed. It has some unique designs and it shows great promise.”

  “But?” Anjali cut in.

  “But…I think it needs something more.”

  “More what?” demanded Anjali.

  “It could use some upgrading.”

  “How much upgrading?” Usha asked, clearly suspicious.

  “Considerable,” said Shah, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “My recommendation is a complete overhaul—an expansion, if you will.”

  “Expansion?” said Usha in an astonished whisper.

  “We’re up to our eyeballs in debt,” Anjali said. “The last thing we need is to sink more money into the business.”

  “But Jeevan-kaka and I—”

  “We need to clear out our present inventory,” Anjali cut in, “not add to it.”

  He offered her a reassuring smile. “You don’t need to worry on that count, Miss Kapadia. Jeevan-kaka and I are planning to finance this operation.”

  “You’re loaning us the money?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll be your partners. We’ll take on fifty-one percent of the debt.”

  She frowned. “That means…you’ll own fifty-one percent of the business.”

  Anjali felt the carpet being jerked out from under her feet.

  Chapter 5

  Rishi noted the expression on Anjali Kapadia’s face. She had turned pale and her mouth was quivering. Her breath had quickened, making her chest rise and fall visibly beneath that soft-looking silk blouse that clung to her breasts. And a pretty bosom it was, too—full and proud.

  Her mother looked like she was about to explode. And her father seemed just plain stunned. What was worse was that they had all slipped into silence.

  Rishi was prepared to field angry rebuttals, protests, and arguments, but not utter quiet. It was rather…disquieting, he reflected with a wry inward grimace at his own play on words.

  The three American Kapadias looked frozen like a tableau. Jeevan was the only Kapadia who seemed unaffected. In fact, he looked jubilant. A smile hovered over his face, making his nose look larger than ever. But then Jeevan had heard Rishi’s ideas in some detail and he approved of them wholeheartedly.

  Finding a spare folding chair resting against the wall, Rishi unfolded it and gestured to Anjali to sit down. She looked rather fragile, and he didn’t want her passing out or something. But she ignored him and continued to stare at the floor as if fascinated by the pattern on the tiles.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, folks. I realize this is a bit of a surprise, but believe me, what the store needs at this time is shock therapy.”

  Mohan Kapadia was the first to respond. He combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure about this expansion idea, Rishi.”

  “I’ll explain in a moment, Uncle,” Rishi assured him. It wasn’t a promising sign that the two women continued to maintain their silence. From what he’d gathered during the last couple of hours and from Jeevan-kaka’s description of the family, it was Usha who more or less ruled the roost. Anjali was the creative mind and the visionary behind the business. He’d managed to antagonize the two main players.

  It was probably a mistake on his part to present his ideas with such haste. A little more tact would have helped as well. Unfortunately, being used to direct and tough business negotiations most of the time, he wasn’t prepared for this kind of delicate, dance-around-the-issue type of situation.

  Perhaps he should have waited a little, prepared them to some degree and introduced his plan bit by bit. Instead, he’d delivered it in one quick stroke. But it wasn’t all his fault, damn it. Miss Kapadia, with her pretty eyes and the distrust and sadness alternating in them, had made him lose his sense of balance.

  And he very rarely lost his sense of balance.

  Usha turned her head and fixed her gaze on her brother-in-law. “Jeevan-bhai, I agree with Mohan and Anju. I can’t imagine how expanding a failing business is going to help. We’ll only end up deeper in debt.”

  Jeevan Kapadia raised an imperious hand and motioned for the three of them to calm down. “Why are you jumping to conclusions? At least listen to Rishi first.”

  Rishi sighed. Jeevan-kaka, despite his brilliant mind, had little sense of timing or diplomacy. Once he latched on to an idea, he ran at top speed with no thought for caution—like those bulls Miss Kapadia had alluded to. But then, he was in no position to judge Jeevan-kaka when he himself had behaved in exactly that fashion.

  It was time for damage control.

  “This is what I propose,” he started. “We approach the person who owns the wholesale grocery shop next door. From the looks of the storefront, it’s not a thriving business. I want to find out if he’s willing to sell his space to us. Jeevan-kaka tells me you currently own half of the building. If we can buy that man out, then we can join the two halves, essentially doubling its size and at the same time owning a larger, more desirable property.”

  Mohan shook his head. “The township zoning department may not allow that kind of restructuring of what was originally a duplex home—two houses joined by a wall.”

  “I’ll look into it. All we may have to do is apply for a permit to fuse the two parts. As it stands, it’s a single building made into two stores with a firewall in between.”

  “That will be very expensive,” cautioned Usha.

  “Don’t worry about funding, Auntie. That’s our problem—mine and Jeevan-kaka’s,” replied Rishi gently. “The advantage of owning both portions of the building is that we can refurbish both as one, modernize it, and make it attractive.”

  Usha didn’t respond, but continued to frown.

  “That run-down store next door is single-handedly decreasing the value of your property as well as your sales volum
e,” said Rishi, putting on his most convincing voice. “It’s common knowledge that an unsightly property brings down the value of everything around it. The very appearance of that store prevents customers from coming to yours.”

  “We’re aware of that,” said Usha, telling Rishi that she was sensitive about the aesthetics of her business. “We’ve tried several times to get Mr. Tejmal to clean up his storefront, but he just doesn’t seem to care. So we’re stuck with him.”

  “That’s why we need to buy him out. Then you can have a corner building with its own large parking lot and separate entrances from two different streets,” he explained. “Obviously parking is at a premium in this neighborhood. This will be perfect to house a trendy boutique with no ugly elements on either side to spoil its exclusive look.”

  Mohan chewed his lower lip. “Sounds good in theory, but…”

  “Go ahead, Uncle.” Rishi shifted and gave him a questioning look. “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

  “Tejmal will not sell, Rishi. He has owned that store for years. He bought it when real estate here was cheap because the neighborhood was not very desirable. In fact, when I bought my half some years ago, Tejmal’s portion had already doubled in value. Now it’s worth even more. Why would he want to sell a hot property?”

  “Precisely because it is hot property, Uncle. Real estate here peaked a while ago, then reached a plateau, and is now in decline. It’s the perfect time for him to sell.”

  “How do you know all this?” Anjali spoke for the first time in several minutes, surprising Rishi. But she still looked somewhat dazed.

  He turned his attention to her. “Research.”

  Usha shook her head. “Still, Tejmal may not want to sell. That store is his life.”

  A disdainful roar of laughter came from Jeevan. “Have you seen that man’s display window? It is full of dust and cobwebs—and one pane is cracked. Like Rishi says, it is making your classy store look cheap. He is ruining the quality of the entire neighborhood.” He pulled a face. “If he does not sell that place, or at least refurbish it, he is dead, I’m telling you.”

  Anjali turned to her uncle, looking horrified. “You can’t mean that!”

  “Why are you looking so shocked, Anju? I’m just stating a fact.”

  “You’re not going to…threaten Mr. Tejmal’s life or…something, are you?”

  In reply she got a blank look from Jeevan. “Why would I do that?”

  Rishi suppressed his urge to laugh. Was this woman serious? Did she really think her uncle had the potential to terrorize or put a contract out on some harmless old shopkeeper? Jeevan was notorious for his strong-arm business tactics, but they didn’t extend to such outlandish practices. He winked at Jeevan. “I think Miss Kapadia’s been seeing too many Hindi movies.”

  “That’s not true!” Anjali protested. “Jeevan-kaka can be…well, I was only wondering if…Never mind.” This time she did collapse onto the chair Rishi had pulled up earlier and her hands descended in her lap in a limp, hopeless gesture. “I’m tired of this whole affair.”

  She did look tired, Rishi noticed. More than tired, she looked dejected. He felt a strong pang of sympathy for her, but the disciplined businessman in him dispelled the emotion. She appeared to be a woman who was obviously used to having her own way. Well, it was about time she learned a lesson or two.

  Life was not always neat and uncomplicated. And it didn’t come in pure shades of black and white either. Owning and running a business definitely involved innumerable shades of gray—and the sooner she learned that, the better. Time for the fairy princess to emerge from her sheltered castle, he told himself.

  But his gentler feelings of compassion still clouded the pragmatic ones.

  Since there were no more chairs left, he shifted again and leaned against the wall. It was crowded with tacked-on lists of phone numbers, store ads, pizza shop coupons, and pictures of Indian outfits. This tiny office appeared to be Mohan’s domain, very different from the neat and organized shop floor run by the two women.

  He directed his gaze toward Anjali. “I own successful boutiques in London, Delhi, Mumbai, Hong Kong, and Singapore, so I know what I’m talking about, Miss Kapadia. If you’ll just listen for a moment, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  He heard no protests, so he continued. “The one-stop-shopping concept comprises taking what you already have here, an exclusive boutique, then adding to it a classy beauty salon, an on-site photo studio, event planning and decorating, floral design, and an upscale coffee shop that sells chai, gourmet coffees, pastries, a variety of snacks, et cetera. A shopping experience like that is entirely different from the other operations around here. Am I correct?” He looked for affirmation at Mohan Kapadia, who was still gnawing on his lower lip.

  “Sounds risky,” Usha murmured and glanced at her husband, who nodded.

  Just then the sound of the bell alerted them to the front door being opened. Someone had entered the store.

  Anjali, who had sat like a statue all this time, sprang to her feet. “Wonder who it is. Everyone knows we’re closed on Mondays.” She immediately started striding out to the shop floor.

  Rishi asked the older Kapadias to stay put. “I’ll go with her. You folks can talk to Jeevan-kaka for a bit.”

  He followed Anjali out the office door. He needed a chance to talk to her privately, convince her that he wasn’t her enemy. She seemed to be the most seriously affected by his plans, and he didn’t want to upset her any more than he already had. He’d be working with her very closely for the foreseeable future and it would be difficult if she continued to regard him with such fear and distrust.

  She zipped through the aisles, sure-footed and agile—confident in her own milieu. She walked with a sexy, catwalk kind of swagger. He wondered if she’d picked that up from the fashion models who showcased her clothes.

  He knew Anjali’s designs well. He’d studied them since Jeevan-kaka had mentioned this unexpected trip to the U.S. He’d read everything on the store’s Web site, apparently designed by her young brother. With Jeevan-kaka’s input, Rishi had a good idea of their balance sheet, too.

  Naturally the models were good looking, but he hadn’t known the creator of those delightful clothes was equally attractive. He had to admit that despite her defensiveness and underlying hostility, she was a pretty woman. He’d been surprised to hear she was thirty-seven. She looked much younger.

  Jeevan-kaka had been singing her praises in the past, and more so during the last couple of days. The old fox was clearly trying to do some matchmaking between Rishi and his niece. He’d told him a few times how Anjali would make the perfect wife. Since Jeevan-kaka had a tendency to exaggerate and even fib at times to suit his purposes, Rishi hadn’t paid much attention to his bragging about how appealing and bright his niece was.

  Well, this time the old man hadn’t lied or exaggerated.

  The smooth fit of her slacks showed off a slim waist, gently curved hips, and shapely legs. She wasn’t tall, but she had a lithe, athletic body. About her being bright, he’d have to wait and see. So far he’d only seen one or two sides of her personality. He was an excellent judge of character, and if he’d guessed right, there were other, less prickly facets to her. He meant to discover them all—sooner or later.

  It would be to his advantage to find out everything about Miss Kapadia.

  His eyes went to the front door. A petite young woman stood near it, taking in the room with dark, curious eyes. Dressed in designer jeans, electric blue shirt, and high-heeled sandals nearly six inches high, she seemed to be a customer. He saw her turn to the approaching Anjali with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know you’re closed today, but I thought I’d take a chance.”

  “Not a problem,” Anjali replied.

  “I was just driving by and everything in your window looked so beautiful,” said the young lady with a guilty grin and a shrug. “I couldn’t resist trying the door…and it was unlocked…”

  Rishi decided to s
tay a few steps behind and observe. Although he couldn’t see Anjali’s smile, he could hear it in her voice. “That’s perfectly all right. You’re welcome to come inside and look.” She shook hands with the woman. “I’m Anjali Kapadia.”

  The young lady’s eyes warmed up. “I’m Roopa Singh. You’re sure I’m not imposing on your day off?”

  “Not at all. Customers are always welcome.”

  “Thanks. That’s kind of you.” She let her gaze wander around the store for a moment. “I’m looking for bridal wear.”

  Ah, newly engaged and eager to shop for a wedding trousseau, Rishi reflected with a sense of satisfaction. Excellent potential.

  “You’re at the right place, then,” said Anjali. “I’ll show you where the bridal nook is.”

  When she turned around and saw Rishi standing by the jewelry case, her smile immediately vanished. It was like a bright light had been put out.

  “I thought I’d come out and help,” he said, explaining his presence. It wasn’t really important how Anjali reacted to him, but it did sting a little. She had every right to distrust him. Her uncle, who was known to be authoritarian, had swooped down on them and then foisted Rishi on them as an unexpected and unpleasant surprise. He’d seen it in both Anjali’s and her mother’s faces—the shock of seeing a stranger they hadn’t anticipated, their quick exchange of bewildered looks.

  He’d immediately felt like an intruder. But he was planning on remedying that within the next day or two. He meant to find himself a hotel room as soon as he could convince Jeevan-kaka that as much as he was thrilled to be considered part of the Kapadia family, he didn’t belong in their cramped house.

  Usurping Nilesh Kapadia’s room was beyond intrusion. He hadn’t even met the young man yet and the poor boy didn’t know his room had been casually offered to a stranger. Rishi’s main cause for discomfort was the Kapadia women, especially Anjali. She wasn’t unwelcoming as such, but there was that cool politeness that was like an invisible barrier.