You're Invited(25)

[Pause]

But if you must know, there has been quite a bit of talk about the time Amaya stayed at the Fonsekas’. And while Nihal has done well for himself, I can’t speak of his loyalty to Fiona. He’s been spotted, you know? At one of those parties where the men put their car keys in a bowl. You know what I’m talking about, I hope. But then again, this is Colombo. It’s not out of the blue for a man as rich and powerful as Nihal to have, well, extramarital pleasures. Certainly, men with less have had more. And word around town is that Fiona isn’t faultless herself. Of course, that was many years ago, and the rumored man, one of Nihal’s friends, mind you, suddenly and conveniently dropped dead of a heart attack. Now, I’m not accusing Nihal of anything, of course. I’m just saying that his relationship with the Bloom girl always seemed very improper, since you asked me.

EP: Did Mrs. Fonseka discuss these infidelities with you?

RT: Ha! Like Fiona would ever let anyone see behind her facade. Fat chance of that. As far as she was concerned, she had the perfect family, and she’d kill to keep it that way. She taught her daughters to behave like that as well, though if you ask me, only Kaavindi made an actual effort.

EP: And how would you describe Kaavindi Fonseka’s relationship with her mother?

RT: It doesn’t take a detective to gather that Kaavindi had been well trained by Fiona, you know. She was always the model of perfection—so pristine was her reputation. And her manners are impeccable. The moment she sees me it’s always, Yes, Aunty Rajini, I love your dress, Aunty Rajini, how is your cold now, Aunty Rajini?

She was as different from her sister, Tehani, as night and day. Poor Fiona. No matter how much of an effort they made with Tehani—I heard they had even sent her to some sort of finishing school type thing for troubled girls, but still no luck—she’s still seen at all the major nightclubs leaving with some chap or the other. But you know, maybe it’s all Fiona’s fault after all.

The moment Fiona had her little outburst that morning of our brunch, Kaavi was on it like a professional peacekeeper. Smoothed the whole thing over. Couldn’t say I blamed her, to be honest. Fiona was putting up quite the show. But who knows? Maybe they had planned the whole thing, and invited the Bloom girl to distract from something else.

EP: Which would be?

RT: Listen, dear. I’m no detective. I know that Nihal Fonseka likes to believe angels themselves delivered his eldest daughter into this world. And Fiona Fonseka likes to pretend that she does everything by her astrologer’s book. But answer me this—have you heard of a wedding being rushed along so quickly without there being another, more pressing, matter of urgency? Like, say, an unplanned pregnancy? And if there were an unplanned pregnancy, who would do whatever it took to keep the family reputation safe? I don’t think you need to be a head of security to figure that out.





6


AMAYA


Four Days before the Wedding


I THOUGHT I’D have a moment with Kaavi when I went upstairs. That we’d be alone, even for a few minutes. I wasn’t going to do anything rash just now, of course. That would come later, if things didn’t work out the way I hoped. I just wanted to ask about her email. Why she said her whole family wanted me to come when it was obvious Mrs. Fonseka was horrified to find me in her house.

I wish I’d been able to tell Mrs. Fonseka that. That I hadn’t just barged in here. That I had been invited. That I thought she had invited me. But of course I’d choked. Now all I could do was ask Kaavi what she had been thinking, and hope she’d be able to smooth this over with her mother.

Her bedroom door was open, but I knocked on it before peering inside. I thought it would be a time capsule, like my own room had been, but of course it wasn’t. Not for Kaavi.

The boy band posters and colorful collages of our photographs had disappeared. The bright purple accent wall that her mother detested was painted over in a crisp white. Her wooden double bed where we’d had countless sleepovers was replaced with one that had a padded white pin-tucked headboard. There were pink and rose gold accents everywhere, from the metallic pink light switches to the gorgeous lampshades that flanked her king-size bed.

There was a large bouquet of pink roses in a vase on her dressing table. I snuck a peek at the card that dangled off the side.

I can’t wait to marry you. —Love, Spencer it read. My stomach did a flip. Being here, in her room, it was all so unreal that a part of me hoped this wedding was make-believe as well. Just a figment of my imagination. Just a bad dream that I would no doubt wake up from very soon.

But Kaavi wasn’t in here. I could hear the shower running in the attached bathroom.

“Kaavi?” I called out, tentatively. I’ve been in her room alone hundreds of times, of course, but that was in another life. We were both different people now. She was a person who would marry my ex-boyfriend, and I was a person who would fly across the world to make sure it didn’t happen.

“Hey, sorry, I just hopped in here,” she shouted from inside the bathroom. “Would you mind just hanging out for a bit? I’ll get killed if I’m late for this fitting, since everything is so last minute and all.”

I eyed the large display of roses again.

Sticking my head out of her room, I peered down the corridor. Mr. Fonseka’s office was at the very end. I could go and say hello to him. Maybe he knew about my invitation. Maybe it was even him who asked for me to be included. It made sense. He’d always been so kind to me and treated me like I was part of the family, even when Mrs. Fonseka seemed less than pleased.