The Reluctant Matchmaker

by Shobhan Bantwal

  I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses, but I knew they were warm with gratitude. “My pleasure, boss. The kids are great.” I smiled. “Besides I’m a sucker for pancakes and chocolate ice cream.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Nope. It’s one of the nicest weekend jaunts I’ve had in years. Even the weather’s been nice.” I turned my gaze to the sun. It was turning to that ripe shade of nectarine, which meant it would disappear in the next hour or so.

  A pleasant kind of lethargy came over me, and I closed my eyes for a minute. The sound of the kids’ excited shrieks, Latin music playing somewhere in the distance, adults chattering, the sound of rushing water in the aquatic rides area, and Prajay’s warm presence beside me. My private paradise.

  I wanted to grab the fleeting moment with both hands and tuck it away as a pleasant memory—for future retrieval.

  Prajay interrupted my thoughts when he said, “I hope I’m not keeping you from any social engagements.”

  “I’ve nothing planned.”

  “No date on a Saturday night for a young and pretty girl?” Thick eyebrows rose above the rim of the sunglasses.

  My pleasant mood had me telling him the truth. “I haven’t dated in some time, Prajay.”

  “What about last week, when you had a date?”

  “That was just a friendly dinner with a coworker.”

  He peeled off his dark glasses and looked at me speculatively. “I hear a lot of guys at work have a thing for you.”

  I could feel the heat creeping into my face. “Not a lot. A few guys have asked me out, but that’s just ...”

  “Just what? You don’t like any of them?”

  I glanced at the setting sun again. “They’re nice enough, but they’re not my type.”

  “What is your type, Meena?”

  “I can’t exactly describe him. I guess I’ll just know when I meet him ... by gut instinct.” I was hoping to keep my voice casual, but his close scrutiny and highly personal questions were making my voice quiver.

  “Gut instinct. I wish I could say that, but I’m so damned analytical.”

  “I know. I can tell from the way you’re going about seeking your six-foot woman.”

  “Dead giveaway, huh?” he said with a self-deprecating smile. He turned his head to check on the kids and stiffened.

  The spell was broken.

  Both the children were high up on the wall—precariously high. My heartbeat accelerated. We’d been so busy talking that we hadn’t been paying much attention.

  Prajay shot to his feet and approached them. “Rahul, Riya, I want you to come down now,” he said to them.

  “But I want to go higher,” Rahul protested.

  “I want you down now,” Prajay commanded.

  “Okay.” I watched as the kids reluctantly made their way down. My breath came out in a sigh when they made it to a safe height.

  As he reached the last step Rahul jumped down with a cry of triumph. “Yay! I went almost to the top.”

  Riya leaped into Prajay’s outstretched arms. He hugged her and said something to her that made her put her arms around his neck and bury her face in his shoulder. Then he gave her a tender kiss on the head before putting her back on her feet.

  Something painful stirred in my chest.

  I didn’t realize my eyes were tearing up until Riya came bouncing up to me and said, “Meena, did you get a boo-boo?”

  “No, honey. Why do you ask?”

  “You’re crying.”

  “Oh, that,” I said and brushed the moisture away quickly. “The sun was in my eyes.”

  The explanation seemed to satisfy Riya, because she immediately demanded to go on more rides. We spent another hour doing just that. When it got fully dark and the park was ablaze with lights, Riya looked tired enough to drop. But Rahul seemed to have some energy left. Frankly I was feeling like Riya. My foot was screaming, my makeup was history, and my hair was a riot.

  Prajay checked his watch. “It’s late. Let’s get out of here.”

  Rahul pulled a face and whined, “Prajay-bappa, can’t we stay a little longer?” When Prajay shook his head, Rahul turned his eyes on me, the conniving little devil. “Meena, can we stay longer? Please?”

  Who could resist that half-grown tooth and the crew cut? I looked at Prajay. “How about one final round on the Enchanted Teacups?” That ride had the shortest line.

  With some reluctance, Prajay nodded. “Okay, one last ride, and then we’re going to dinner. Who wants to go to Friendly’s?”

  Riya, the chubby food-lover, nodded. “Can I have chicken fingers and a clown sundae?”

  Prajay ruffled her hair. “Sure, baby.”

  By the time we had our dinner and were heading home, the kids were so exhausted they fell asleep in the back of the car in two minutes flat. Rahul was snoring like an old man.

  Tired beyond belief myself, I reclined the seat and closed my eyes, trying to recapture the conversation Prajay and I had been having on the bench. He had asked me what kind of man was my type. I’d almost told him my kind of guy was exactly like him. In fact, it was him. Thank God, I’d found a better answer. And the thing with the kids had distracted us, so we had moved on to other things after that.

  The ride home was in silence. I let Prajay assume I was sleeping.

  When he parked the car, we tried to awaken the kids. Rahul climbed out groggily, but Riya was dead to the world. The poor baby looked angelic in sleep. Prajay handed me the keys to his condo and picked her up in his arms, then carried her all the way to the condo.

  After I opened the front door he took Riya to the guest room and laid her on the bed. I carefully took off her sneakers and shifted her into a more comfortable position. Rahul kicked off his shoes and sank onto the bed beside his sister. We covered the sleeping kids with blankets, shut off the light, and went to the living room.

  “Want anything to drink, Meena?” Prajay asked. “You look beat.” He glanced at my sneakers. “I hope your ankle isn’t hurting from all that walking.”

  “My ankle’s fine. I’ll just use the powder room and go home.” I remembered something. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Pulling out the folded spreadsheet from my purse, I handed it to him. “Here’s the list of your top six respondents. I’ve put them in order of suitability, starting with number one at the top.”

  “That’s very efficient. I’m glad I hired you as my consultant.”

  I made an appropriate sound and walked away to the powder room. When I came out, I saw Prajay sitting on the couch, studying the list. He looked up at me. “Nice work, Meena. I guess the ball’s in my court now. I’ll have to see about contacting some of these women.”

  “Sure.” I pulled out my car keys from my purse. “Thanks for a wonderful day at the park.”

  He rose to his feet. “Are you kidding? You gave up an entire Saturday for me. I can’t thank you enough.” He took my hand and held it in a firm grip. “I don’t even know how to start thanking you. Between this,” he pointed to the sheet he’d left on the coffee table, “and today ... you’ve been awesome.”

  “No need for thanks, Prajay.” I pulled my hand back. My pulse was doing strange things. Disturbing things. “I do stuff for people I consider my friends.”

  “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow to thank you properly then? Not chicken fingers and clown sundaes, but a proper restaurant.”

  “I told you, you don’t have to do anything. You already fed me breakfast and dinner today.”

  “I want to take you to dinner, damn it. Why can’t you accept a simple gesture of gratitude, Meena?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “I might look big and scary, but I’m harmless. I promise I’ll only treat you to a nice dinner, and then I’ll give you the check I owe you for taking care of my matrimonial problems.” Perhaps seeing my continued hesitation, he added, “We’ll go to some out of the way restaurant where we’re not likely to run into anyone we know.”

&nbs
p; I grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But what about your brother and his family?”

  “Prakash and Nitya will be returning here late tonight. They’re planning to drive back home tomorrow afternoon.” He paused. “Can you come here around five? That’ll give us plenty of time to drive out a few miles and find a decent restaurant. Where would you like to go?”

  “I’ll let you choose. Good night.” I had to get out of there. I couldn’t take one more minute of his standing there making casual talk. Hadn’t the family-style outing meant anything to him?

  I was nothing more than the paid consultant now? He wanted to thank me. He was going to treat me to a nice dinner and then hand me a check. How was that for gratitude?

  Just as I was about to step outside, Prajay did something unexpected that rattled me, then left me shaking. He put his huge hands on my shoulders, bent down, and placed a light kiss on my cheek. “Good night. And thank you again.” Then he stepped away and gave me a mildly baffled look. “You’re so little. I’ve carried you twice before, but just now ... your shoulders. . . you felt as tiny as Riya.”

  “Tiny as Riya? Thanks a lot, Prajay.” Without waiting for his response I turned and rushed out of there. Instead of waiting for the elevator, I looked around, found the door marked STAIRS, and rushed through it. I raced down the steps and ran all the way to my car.

  I got behind the wheel and nearly sent my fist crashing into it. He’d touched me and felt nothing, while I’d experienced an electric jolt. He’d kissed me coolly, when I’d felt the heated urge to reach up and press my lips to his. Damn, damn, damn.

  I’d been harboring all these warm, womanly feelings for him, and he thought of me like he did his four-year-old niece. How devilishly absurd was that?

  “Since you think I’m a toddler in pigtails, why don’t you take me to Friendly’s for a clown sundae dinner tomorrow night, you big, dumb, clueless gorilla?” I murmured to no one in particular. I didn’t care if anyone around saw me talking to myself. I was beyond caring. Way beyond livid.

  I told myself firmly to regain my composure, then put the car in gear and drove home. My head was pounding. My ankle felt worse than it had a half hour ago.

  I needed the comfort of a heating pad, aspirin, and my bed.

  Chapter 13

  I slept for fourteen hours. Finding the last two pills prescribed by Dr. Murjani sitting on my nightstand, I had swallowed one and sunk into bed, still wearing the jeans and sweatshirt I’d been romping around in all day.

  Luckily Mom and Dad had been out at some social gathering and hadn’t been home to see me raging when I’d stumbled into the house the previous night. Mom would have guessed that something was wrong if she’d seen me in that condition. I had slept so soundly I didn’t even know what time they’d come home. Just as well.

  By the time I showered and dressed and went downstairs on Sunday, it was lunchtime. I ate vegetable soup and sandwiches made of mint-coriander chutney and sliced tomatoes with my parents. This was my usual time to show up at the table on a weekend, so there were no questions other than to ask how my trip to Great Adventure had been.

  “Great,” I said with every bit of enthusiasm I could muster. “The weather was fabulous.”

  “I heard that King Kong roller coaster is extremely scary.” Mom’s expression said she wondered why people would want to ride in a death machine and call it fun.

  “It’s Kingda Ka, and yes, it’s wild,” I replied, although I hadn’t taken that ride. “But that’s part of the fun, Mom. The thrill of it is what makes people go again and again.”

  “You know what some of those thrills can do to the human brain?” she pointed out. “There’s only so much excitement it can take, Meena. It can do permanent damage in some cases.”

  I smiled benignly and ate the last of my soup. “Don’t worry. I’m not brain damaged yet.”

  Dad threw me his most dad-like look. “Let’s keep it that way, till you find a good husband.”

  Maybe because of the aftereffects of the previous evening, I lashed out. “Yeah, it’s bad enough that I’m a not-too-bright female. God forbid you have to carry the additional burden of palming me off with no gray cells at all.” I got up from the table and placed my bowl and plate in the dishwasher. This business of getting rid of me by marriage was becoming too stale. Too hurtful.

  “Stop playing the martyr, Meena,” retorted Mom, looking thoroughly ticked off.

  “Then why do you make me feel like I’m a burden? You never say things like that to Maneel and Mahesh. Those two daredevils can do as they please, while I have to watch every little thing I do and say.”

  “You’re not a burden, dear,” Dad tried to assure me. “In our culture, it is important to make sure that a girl is kept safe and healthy until she is handed over in marriage to a suitable boy. Then it is his responsibility to keep her safe and happy.”

  “You make me sound like some kind of perishable commodity that needs careful refrigeration until the right customer comes along. What am I, fillet of catfish?”

  Dad’s eyebrows snapped together. “Chhee, don’t talk nonsense like that. That kind of attitude does not suit a sensible, educated girl like you.”

  “If you think I’m sensible and educated, then treat me as such. I’m old enough to know what’s good and bad for me. Trust me.”

  “Okay, dear, whatever you say.” Mom got up from the table. “Let’s discuss dinner now, shall we. What should I make for this evening’s meal?”

  “I’m going out with friends tonight.”

  “But you went out with them yesterday.”

  “That was Great Adventure. Tonight we’re going to dinner.”

  Perhaps because she’d had enough arguing, Mom quietly went to the sink and rinsed the dishes. Dad picked up his cell phone and started to dial someone. I took off for my room. I could use some peace and quiet before going out this evening.

  Booting up my computer, I found several forwarded messages from Prajay. More matrimonial hopefuls. Great, exactly what I needed to cheer me up—another pound of salt to rub into my wound.

  I reluctantly looked at each response and found only one that looked good: a thirty-four-year-old physical therapist and divorcée. Although I had serious doubts about her suitability, I added her profile to my database and printed the updated version for Prajay.

  If he wanted a divorcée, he could have one. See if I cared. It would serve him right if she came with tons of baggage ... like a bitchy personality, three bratty kids, and an incontinent dog. A psychopathic stalker for an ex-husband would be even better.

  Picking up a book, I lay down to read. I must have read no more than two pages before I fell asleep again.

  When I woke up it was nearly four o’clock, so I dragged myself to the bathroom, took a hot shower, and got dressed. Assuming Prajay was planning to take me to a refined restaurant, I wore a short, black dress with elbow length sleeves and a slightly risqué neckline. Of course, all my efforts at trying to capture his attention would be in vain. But what the heck? At least I felt good about myself when I wore pretty, sexy clothes.

  I put on a slightly heavier coat of makeup, my diamond earrings, and black, high-heeled sandals. To hell with my ankle. I was in no mood to pamper it.

  When I rang Prajay’s doorbell, he opened the door and gestured to me to go in and sit down. He was on the phone, in the midst of a conversation that sounded like business. He was dressed in black slacks, an open-neck shirt and a sports jacket.

  It was nearly five minutes before he was finished with his call. All the while I sat on the couch with my knees crossed and one restless leg swinging. He put the cell phone in his pocket and hurried toward me. “Sorry, Meena. That was an emergency.”

  I didn’t bother to make eye contact with him. “That’s okay.”

  “Shall we start, then?” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

  It took some maneuvering to get myself into his Corvette without le
tting my short dress ride up too high. The seat was so low to the ground that it felt like I was sitting on the floor. I could barely see above the dashboard. I realized why he’d borrowed his friend’s Toyota to drive me when I was injured.

  Just before putting the car in gear, he turned to me and smiled, a warm, pulse-raising, belly-wrenching smile. “You look very pretty this evening.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I hope that’s not inappropriate to say to an employee?”

  “I don’t believe so,” I murmured and looked out the window. He thought I was pretty, and yet he didn’t see beyond the looks, that I had a sharp mind and a decent-sized heart. And that I wanted him. Why were some intelligent males so dumb when it came to women and relationships?

  Probably guessing that I was in no mood for small talk, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the street. “Aren’t you curious to know where we’re going?” he asked finally.

  “I’m sure you’re capable of picking a perfectly nice restaurant. You’re the hotshot entrepreneur who entertains bigwigs all the time.”

  “Do you like Thai food?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Good, I made reservations at a Thai restaurant.”

  It turned out to be a lovely restaurant, with exotic Thai décor and pretty young waitresses in traditional pha sin, the narrow tube skirts in jewel-tone silk, embossed with gold designs. I ordered a glass of white wine. Two sips and the alcohol improved my mood considerably. I actually felt like talking to Prajay.

  “This is a nice place,” I said, taking in the hand-embroidered sequin-and-bead wall hangings and the delicate glass light fixtures.

  “Glad you like it.” He seemed at ease as he sat with his elbows on the table and sipped his Thai beer. “I was a bit concerned that you might not like Thai food. But then you did ask me to go ahead and pick a restaurant.”

  “I’m glad you picked Thai. The food’s delicious.” I took a spoonful of the tom yum soup. It was fiery hot and garnished with lots of cilantro—just the way I liked it. The pad thai noodles, the green curry fish, the stir-fried chicken, and the basil rice were just as scrumptious. The service was impeccable.