Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(23)

“Nothing.”

He looked at his watch again. “I can’t be late for this meeting.” Then he looked at her again, really looked at her, the way he used to years ago. “Call me, please? Let’s talk, okay?”

Right. Except it was probably fifteen years too late to talk, and it might take another fifteen for him to find the time. “Sure. Go to your meeting. I’m fine.”

And in true Yash Raje fashion he got right down to it and flew down the stairs.

Trisha headed toward Aji’s door and ran right into Ashna. “Shasha! I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“I got the time wrong,” Trisha said, too tired to explain further.

Ashna laughed. But there was no judgment in it. Trisha gave her cousin a tight hug. Ashi never judged her. She was the only one in the entire family who accepted Trisha for exactly who she was. She didn’t care what Trisha wore, whether or not she was single, or what she had done fifteen years ago. For all her somber bearing, she was the most stress-free, zero-expectation presence in Trisha’s life.

“Good news is HRH and Mina Kaki left,” she said, with a commiserating smile. “Yash, too. So your timing is actually perfect.”

“You mean I missed the Avalanche of Disappointment?” Trisha said. But of course she hadn’t missed it at all.

Ashi twirled one of Trisha’s curls around her finger and tucked it behind her ear. Her too-perceptive jet-black eyes glittered. “Nisha told us about the grant when she called in to the meeting. That’s amazing! Totally expected, but amazing!” If Ashi thought that this particular change of topic would cheer Trisha up, she was right on the money.

Trisha beamed.

Her cousin matched her beaming smile. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but you’re stopping by later for the food, right? You can tell me about it then.” She adjusted that huge bag on her shoulder—why she and Nisha needed bags this big was a complete mystery to Trisha; she only ever carried her wallet. Halfway to the stairs Ashi stopped and came back. “Oh, and thanks for taking care of Emma Caine. Is she going to be okay? I didn’t get a chance to speak to DJ about it yesterday.”

Trisha remembered the look in Emma’s eyes when she had left her yesterday. The disappointment—the damn emotion just wouldn’t stop plaguing her.

“Well, the other doctors were wrong. Her tumor isn’t inoperable. I’m going to be able to remove it.”

Ashna squeezed Trisha’s arm. “Oh, Shasha! You are magic. I knew it! Thank you!”

It was exactly what Trisha needed to hear. Her parents’ disappointment didn’t matter. What anyone thought of her didn’t matter. What mattered was that she got to do this. To save lives.

An alarm rang on Ashna’s phone and she gave Trisha another quick hug and made her way to the stairs. “Really have to go. Can’t wait to hear all about the surgery,” she threw over her shoulder. Were those tears in her eyes?

Trisha hadn’t realized that Ashna was so close to Emma Caine. Unless of course this was about the noble, and elusive, brother. Aha!

As she pushed the door to Aji’s room open she felt a bit like one of Sripore’s show horses after completing a particularly fraught obstacle course. She took a deep breath, soaking in the smell. It was beautiful. There was just no other word for it. It was sweet and decadent and calming. A perfect representation of her grandmother, in all her Queen Mother glory. Only, her grandmother wasn’t there. The connecting door to Esha’s room was slightly ajar. Trisha tiptoed to the door and pushed at it the slightest bit.

Esha’s room was all white walls, white floors, and white linen. Completely bare except for the large circular bed, and thick shades that plunged the room into absolute darkness. The only light came from the silver oil lamp that had burned without pause for over thirty years in front of a life-size painting of Esha’s parents, framed with carved marble so intricate it looked like one of Aji’s lace creations. Aji sat in a white wing chair by the bed, her fingers flying on a crochet needle.

Esha lay belly down on the bed, her white comforter pulled up to her shoulders and her hip-length hair gathered in a voluminous bun at her nape. She looked like she was floating on water, ethereal.

Aji caught sight of Trisha and her eyes lit up. Trisha loved her grandmother’s eyes. She had heard on more than one occasion that she had inherited them, but she didn’t think it was true. Aji’s eyes were a deep brown with flecks of fiery amber and gold, but the magic was in the intensity of the kindness they held. Trisha could only hope that someday, maybe fifty years from now, she could emulate even a fraction of her grandmother’s poise.

Aji placed a finger on her lips, a signal that it wasn’t okay to go inside. Trisha nodded and tried to smile, but her stupid lower lip protruded in a pout all on its own. She pulled it back in, but she stood there watching. She wouldn’t get a hug from her grandmother today, but she could soak up some of the peace from the scene in front of her.

Disobeying Aji was out of the question. If Esha was having an episode, disturbing her would only lead to her having a seizure. Esha never left the Anchorage grounds. Not since Trisha’s father had brought her to California when she was six. Aji and J-Auntie had homeschooled her. Anytime she needed medical attention, HRH took care of it. After Trisha had earned her medical degree, she had slowly started to share that job with him.