Accidentally Engaged(3)
Saira smirked across the table while stirring a green smoothie. “Sounds a little ambitious a match for Reena, don’t you think? He’s probably completely bald, like that architect guy you dug out for her.”
“Saira!” Dad said, his hand up to quiet his youngest daughter. Wow. Was Dad standing up for Reena?
Reena herself didn’t bother glaring at Saira. Didn’t even glance at her. Just mopped up her channa with that last bit of puri before licking the masala off her fingers. It wasn’t worth it.
Saira was currently smack-dab in the middle of a year from hell, and her coping strategy of taking subtle jabs at her older sister seemed to be working for her, so Reena kept her mouth shut. It was the least she could do after Saira lost her job and came home to cry to her fiancé Joran, only to get an eyeful of Joran’s naked ass above his cousin visiting from his hometown in Holland, or something. Saira wasn’t Reena’s favorite person, but she wouldn’t wish that sequence of events on her worst enemy.
“Reena, I know you will be on your best behavior with Nadim, and make the man feel comfortable at home,” Mum said, smiling. “Your father has known Shiroz Uncle since primary school. They are already like family.”
Reena tensed. It was impressive the way Mum could say marry this man, without actually saying marry this man. Even if the proposed groom himself hadn’t leaked her parents’ intentions himself, she would have known what they were up to.
“Mum…” Reena groaned. “I just—”
“Na!” Mum snapped. “No more excuses. You’re thirty-one, beti. No more single in the city…it’s time for you to settle down! Look at Khizar! He’s having twins! Even Saira was engaged, and when that didn’t work, she found Ashraf!”
“Seriously, Mum? What do you mean, even?” Saira snapped.
Mum smiled, patting Saira’s hand. “Shush. Reena is older than you. It’s her turn to find someone successful.” Mum looked at Reena with a proud smile. “Ashraf is management!”
Technically. Reena was happy that her sister had put her life back together and was dating again, but managing a mall kiosk selling prepaid cell phone plans hardly made Ashraf upwardly mobile.
“We’re getting older,” Mum continued. “I don’t want to worry about my children anymore. Who will take care of you when we’re gone?”
Reena had no idea if Mum realized how ridiculous she sounded. This wasn’t Regency England and she was no Mrs. Bennett, desperate to marry her children off well to prevent financial ruin. How the hell could a beer-drinking, douche-bearded, bicycle-dragging flirt be the answer to avoiding spinsterhood?
“Promise me, Reena. Don’t be like with the other ones. Promise me you will make an effort with Nadim,” Mum pleaded.
Reena forced a smile. “Anything else going on?” she asked. Deflect and distract. Reena wouldn’t make promises she had no intention of keeping.
“I heard on the Facebook site that Salim Shah lost a small fortune on a hotel deal gone bad,” Dad said.
Holy crap, the Facebook site?
“Dad, since when are you on Facebook?” Reena made a mental note to update her profile’s privacy settings.
“I’ve joined a new group there. Ismaili business networking group.” Keeping tabs on his professional rivals was Dad’s favorite pastime.
But Reena was trying very hard not to be as judgmental as her parents. Time to change the subject again. “What’s that?” She pointed to a glossy black bag on the sideboard.
“Oh, it’s for you.” Mum reached behind her to get the bag and handed it to Reena. “I was in Zipporah yesterday and they had these lovely rollerball perfumes. I bought you a langi langi one.” She handed the bag to Reena.
“Sephora, I’m assuming.” Reena took it and peeked at the small glass bottle in it. It was ylang-ylang essential oil fragrance. Langi langi was the name used for ylang-ylang flowers in Dar es Salaam, and Mum knew Reena had always loved the scent. It was a generous gesture…but Reena had to wonder…
“You know in the summertime all of Dar es Salaam smells like langi langi. There is even a big tree in the courtyard of the Jamatkhana in town. I’m sure the smell will remind Nadim of home.”
There it was. The gift was to lure the man in with a siren scent. Reena opened the bottle. It did smell amazing. She’d been to the Dar es Salaam Jamatkhana, the Ismaili Muslim place of worship, and the entire courtyard was filled with huge trees with fragrant blooms. This scent totally reminded her of the warm tropical breezes there. She sighed, closing it and putting it in her bag. “Thanks, Mum.”
“Now tell me, Reena,” Dad said, “is there any more news about your company hiring a director of finance? It’s high time you took a management role. If not at Railside, I am sure we can find a company with more growth opportunities.”
Reena finished chewing her channa before answering. “I’ll definitely inquire, Dad, but I have no interest in leaving Railside right now. I love it there,” she said, an enthusiastic smile plastered to her face. It was a lie. She hated her job. In fact, she hated working in finance altogether. But if Dad knew that, she’d once again get grief for insisting on this line of work instead of working in the family business. She wanted that like she wanted to lick a metal pole in January.