Accidentally Engaged(26)
“No, of course I’ll do it. I pushed you to enter. I’m not going to bail on you now. What exactly am I saying yes to? More videos?”
“Yes.” She opened the email. “There are four rounds, and it starts with eight couples. Two couples are eliminated through online voting after each round. Rounds one and two are videos that we produce and submit. If we make it to round three, they fly us to Toronto—or I guess we’ll just take the subway. The four couples tape that round in the FoodTV studio and get a tour. Finally the last round will have only two couples, and they send a camera crew to tape it in our own homes.”
“Okay, that’s a lot.”
“I know. And we’ll be pretending to be engaged the whole time. And we have to keep it from my parents. They’re not really into the FoodTV scene and it won’t be on TV, just the website, so I don’t think they’d find out, but it might mean lying to your boss. Would you be okay with all that?”
He nodded. “I gave you lice, Reena. I owe you majorly. But I’d do it anyway. Sounds like a lot of fun.” He paused, watching her again. “Hell, I’d do it if only to watch you cook again.”
“I’m baking now, not cooking.” She smiled. “But I will be cooking for the contest. Home cooking. So, you’re in?”
He grinned. “Yes. Apparently, we’ll be engaged after all.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The balancing act of résumé writing and job searching while hiding her unemployment from her neighbors and family turned out to be no problem whatsoever. Reena just dressed in her usual business casual on Monday and headed to the library with her laptop in hand. She’d worked part-time shelving books in college and was well aware of what some people got up to while using public computers. Ew.
So far, job searching had gone better than expected—after a cursory scan of positions in her field, Reena found several she miraculously felt both qualified for and interested in. Well, sort-of interested. After all, these were still finance jobs, but the companies seemed up her alley and the locations good. She made a list of suitable options for when Amira finished helping her polish up her résumé. She also made an appointment with the employment agency Railside contracted to help laid-off employees. And she made an appointment for a mani/pedi. Job searching felt like a scorching walk through the hot bowels of hell, so may as well walk with painted toenails.
Her meeting with Abigail, the employment counselor, on Tuesday morning was exhausting, but fine. She subjected Reena to countless online tests to determine her proficiency with various computer programs and interviewed her so thoroughly Reena half expected to be asked what brand of peanut butter she preferred. Abigail was almost comically optimistic and believed she would have no problem placing Reena in a full-time position before the end of the month. She said she had several leads, including a top secret posting that hadn’t gone public yet for a position in the food-services industry. Between chirpy Abigail’s infectious optimism, and the sparkly purple polish on her fingers and toes, Reena had an honest spring in her step as she climbed the stairs to her apartment at the end of the day. Shayne, Marley, and Nadim were joining her for dinner to discuss plans for the next video in the contest. She had some chicken thighs marinating in Thai curry paste and planned to wrap them in pandan leaves and roast them to serve with cucumber salad and sticky rice.
But her hope for a pleasant evening with friends crashed into the sun when she got to her apartment door. Standing there was a five-foot, zero-inch tracksuit-wearing woman carrying a stack of foil pans, along with a spaced-out-looking woman drinking muddy green sludge.
“Mum. Saira. What are you doing here?” Reena asked as she pulled out her key from her bag.
“What, a mother can’t visit her daughter? Why are you wearing flip-flops? It’s September.”
Strangely, she’d heard this question a lot lately. The flip-flops, of course, were to protect her newly painted nails from smudges. But if she told Mum that, she’d have to admit she’d had a pedicure and was not at work.
“It’s warm. I don’t like driving in heels,” she said before unlocking her door. “And of course you guys can visit me. I’m just surprised.” She motioned her mother in first, before dropping her bag on the kitchen counter. She gestured toward the foil pans, which her mum was placing near the stove. “What’s that?”
“Dinner. Kebob jo shaak and rice.”
“I just got off work or I would have made you something, too,” Saira added. “Did the bone broth help with your cold? I’m not sure the pressure cooker extracts the nutrients as well as a long simmer.”
Reena hadn’t subjected herself to Saira’s weird soup. It was still sitting in her fridge, the jellied mass mocking her whenever she opened the fridge looking for real food.
She opened the top foil tray. The rich tomato broth with spicy kofta meatballs and potatoes smelled heavenly, but her mother showing up at her door with one of her favorite dishes was not unconditional parental care. She doubted the woman knew a thing about unconditional anything. Mum and Saira wanted something.
“There’s lots. I thought you could invite Nadim to share dinner with you.” Mum grinned.
Aha. Mystery solved. In Mum’s opinion, a home-cooked meal was just the thing to make him fall head over heels in love with Reena. Food being the way into a man’s heart and all. It was a laughable attempt.