The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(26)
“Well done for bringing it in,” he continued. “I always love a good Oops, I left it inside lawsuit. When the case is over, you can add the scissors to our trophy jars. We’ve got sponges, retractors, clips and clamps, suction tips, gauze, forks . . .”
“Forks? How would a fork get inside a body cavity?”
“Who knows? Maybe the surgeon got hungry in the middle of the operation. I know I always get a craving for steak tartare when I’m watching Grey’s Anatomy.”
Prepared to meet one aunt, Zara was surprised a short while later when Taara Auntie arrived with Lakshmi Auntie and Mehar Auntie in tow.
“I like your new office, beta.” Mehar settled into the chair in front of Zara’s desk. “And that man out front in the green hat.”
Divorced at thirty-five and now a teacher and Bollywood dance instructor after a change in career, Mehar was always on the lookout for eligible single men. As usual, she was stylishly dressed, her makeup perfectly applied, and her hair cut to accentuate her heart-shaped face. By contrast, Taara looked tired and harried, no doubt from chasing after her two boys. Lakshmi, the family astrologer, wore layers of mismatched clothing, her long hair braided down her back.
“He’s not good for you,” Lakshmi said. “I had a bad kiwi for breakfast. It means men in green hats should be avoided.”
“You just want him for yourself,” Mehar huffed. “And the bad kiwi just means you don’t know how to pick fruit.”
“Stop fighting, you two.” Taara Auntie settled in the seat beside Mehar and handed Zara a Tupperware container. “I made a special fusion dish for you. Curried Tex-Mex sauerkraut pickle sea bream surprise.”
“It sounds delicious.” Hand trembling, Zara took the container. Everyone in the family knew never to eat Taara’s concoctions. Zara had heard a rumor that cousin Daisy’s fiancé Liam had actually eaten a full portion of Taara’s infamous shark stew, but she didn’t believe it. “I’ll have this for dinner. I was planning on working late so now I won’t need to order in.”
Taara beamed. “Such a good girl.”
“I knew she was going to be a good girl when she was born on a full-moon night.” Lakshmi Auntie tugged on her braid. “But her path is not an easy one. Many hills and valleys. Many dark shadows. I did see a goat in Potrero Hill the other day with one green eye and one blue and that means the undead will help lift Zara’s burden. Also, kumquats.”
“Or your vision means that one of the city’s grazing companies has reintroduced the employment of goats to eat their way through the invasive vegetation,” Mehar said dryly. “And possibly people are introducing exotic fruit into their diet.”
Lakshmi bristled. “Goats are well-known purveyors of the future. The kumquats aren’t connected. They have their own path.”
“Okaaaay.” Zara raised her voice to cut off the runaway conversation train that was heading in a direction she didn’t want to go. “So, what can I do for you?”
“This.” Taara held out a small black camera. “I was putting your cards on the tables at the wedding and I thought, why not see what you have to say about this problem? I bought a home-security camera to keep an eye on my boys when they’re playing in the basement. This camera is the most popular one. I can watch the boys on my app and speak to them using the two-way audio feature. I liked it so much I recommended it to everyone I knew. It seemed to be working fine until the other day a man started speaking to the boys through the camera when they were playing, calling them a racial slur and telling them to engage in destructive behavior.”
“To be fair,” Mehar muttered, “no one really needs to tell your boys to engage in destructive behavior. I’m still trying to pay off the plate glass windows they broke from your last visit, and my cat’s fur still hasn’t grown back.”
Zara had to agree. Taara’s boys were known hell-raisers, quiet only when they were watching their favorite hockey team play. They wore Sharks jerseys, slept in Sharks bedding, and had full-size foam shark costumes to wear to home games. “What happened next?” she prompted to deflect Mehar’s mumbled complaints.
“The boys called me, and I went downstairs and confronted him.” Taara’s voice raised in agitation. “He said he’d hacked our security system and I would have to pay a ransom in bitcoin to stop his cyberattack. I deactivated the camera and called the police. They said they couldn’t do anything because they couldn’t trace the hacker. So, then I contacted the manufacturer. They said it was my fault for using a weak password.” She pulled out her phone and turned it around to show Zara a string of twelve random letters and symbols. “That’s the password. There is nothing weak about it. The problem is with their system.”
Zara paused in her note-taking. “Were they able to access any sensitive information—bank accounts . . .”
“My children!” Taara leaned forward. “He was watching my children, speaking to them, scaring them, invading our privacy. We felt exposed. And I’m not the only one who’s been attacked—Mehar and Lakshmi also had dealings with this man. It’s not right. The company shouldn’t be allowed to sell these products. Families are at risk.”
“Let me talk to the partners and look into it,” Zara said, turning over possible causes of action in her mind. “Cases like this are difficult because it’s hard to prove you suffered any damage aside from the privacy violation.”