Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors (The Rajes #1)(62)

Emma offered up another scoffing, awful laugh. “Right. Fine then, let’s try and beat your half-mil record.”

Again, Julia smiled kindly, as though she understood fully why his sister was being so provocative. “There’s somewhere I have to be, so I’ll leave you two alone to discuss this. DJ, it was a pleasure. Please know that this story means everything to me and I will do everything in my power to tell it the way it deserves to be told. Emma, I’ll text you about schedules. It will take a few days of shadowing you to get enough footage. We can talk more as we go.”

As soon as she had left, Emma held up a hand in DJ’s face. “Save it. I’m doing this. Trying to talk me out of it is a waste of your breath.”

“How refreshingly different!” he said, making her grin.

But for all her bluster she looked so bloody weary, so frustrated, his chest hurt. It struck him suddenly, that at least her placid phase seemed to have passed. And this was a good thing. Maybe Julia was right, maybe venting on camera, talking about the work she loved so much, would help her work through this.

He uncrossed his arms. “Why don’t we get going? We can discuss it in the car. It’s been a long day, love.”

She looked grateful. “I have one more student to look in on. I promised her, so don’t argue.”

“What are you arguing about?” Betsy woke up and looked between Emma and DJ.

“Hullo there.” Emma squatted down in front of Betsy. “Your head still hurting?”

Betsy looked at her as though she had no idea what Emma was talking about, then she turned to DJ. “Charles! So lovely of you to come.”

DJ met Emma’s worried eyes and squatted down next to her in front of the wheelchair. “Of course, love,” he said to Betsy. “Where else would I be?”

His sister grinned—her little girl grin from a different lifetime—and suddenly nothing else mattered but what she wanted. DJ stood back up and gave Emma a hand. “Is doing the interview really what you want?” It seemed like the exact kind of thing she would hate to do.

She rubbed the paint on her fingers, scraped it with her thumbnails until it wiped off in spots. “It would be great exposure for Green Acres and the program. And you have to admit, the money would be sweet.”

“I don’t want you to worry about the money.”

“I know. I know you’ll take care of it. But why not get help if it’s there. What do we have to lose?”

“Charles takes care of everything, don’t you, Charles?” Betsy said, looking at him as though he were some kind of god.

“Thanks,” DJ said awkwardly.

“I’ll see you around,” Betsy said to Emma. “Charles and I need to go now.”

DJ raised his brows at Emma, who shrugged rather unhelpfully.

“You promised to take me to the garden and show me the roses, remember?” Betsy said to DJ, or more accurately, to Charles.

“Do you mind taking Betsy for a spin around the park in the back?” Emma said in a softer voice. “I’ll quickly look in on Sherry and gather my things and then we can go home.”

At this point he’d do anything to get his sister off her feet. “Sure.” It seemed like the only response he was capable of giving her anymore.

BETSY TURNED AROUND and looked at DJ as he pushed her wheelchair back in through the back entrance of Green Acres after their walk through the garden, where he’d found that Betsy, for everything she did not remember, still knew a great many things about roses and their many varieties.

“Who on earth are you?” she asked. It was the slightest change, but her eyes were suddenly a little more alert.

DJ wondered if he needed to let someone know. “I’m Emma Caine’s brother. We were just walking in the garden.”

She smiled widely at the mention of Emma and turned back around. “Ah! I know, you’re Darcy. Emma’s told me all about you.”

He’d better hurry up and have that word with his sister. “Actually, I prefer to go by DJ.”

“Is that Indian food I smell?” she said, sniffing the air as they passed what looked like a large cafeteria. “It must be Indian night for dinner.” She sat up in her chair. “Emma tells me you’re a chef. Doesn’t that smell great?”

The one thing DJ had a hard time lying about was food. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “When’s dinnertime?”

Her stomach growled and she placed a hand on it. “It seems like now’s dinnertime, doesn’t it?” She pointed imperiously at the doors that led to the cafeteria and he pushed the chair into the dining hall. It was a huge room with three sets of double doors that had all been thrown open. Some fifty-odd round tables were arranged in a perfect grid and they were currently almost all occupied. He had no idea that Green Acres had such a large resident population.

What they were smelling had to be chicken makhani, with the usual hints of cardamom, clove, and bay leaf mingling with fresh cream. But it smelled like something that came off an assembly line at a manufacturing facility for makhani sauce supplied to grocery stores. He tried not to scrunch up his nose. It wasn’t easy. Chicken makhani was one of his signature dishes. His still didn’t taste quite the way Ammaji’s had, but he loved to play with it. It was going to be a main course for the Raje dinner. Apparently, it was one of Yash Raje’s favorite dishes and it had been the first thing Mina Raje had put on the menu.