“What is it, princess?” he said in Hindi.
Bindu flipped her long hair over one shoulder and pressed her palms together, already pleading her case. “I was thinking about having an engagement party in early September. The wedding isn’t until next year, and we should really celebrate with friends and family. We can make it a big, festive event that will coincide with Loken’s family’s trip from Italy. Catering, DJ, open bar, all of it.”
“Engagement party?” Dadi called out. She swung her spatula around like a conductor. “Yes! What a wonderful way to celebrate Loken’s family visit.”
“That should be fine,” Kareena’s father replied, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m not paying for it.”
“Daddy.”
“Beta, I told you that I have a set amount of money for both you and your sister. You get it as a down payment on a house, or you get it for the wedding. You’ve used every last cent of your share for this extravagant Italian desi wedding. And with two caterers! Because god forbid their vegetarian food is cooked with the same utensils that are used for the nonveg meals.”
“Dad,” Kareena chided. “Be respectful.”
He waved a hand in her direction. “I have nothing against veg food, but I don’t need anyone else making me feel bad about my goat meat.”
“Excuse me, but this is about me,” Bindu said, pouting. “It’s embarrassing Loken has to chip in, but I guess we’ll have to do it.”
“How is it embarrassing?” Kareena asked. She took Dadi’s chai cup and took a sip. “Your fiancé is from the richest Gujarati family in Italy. I’m sure that he can afford to cover something.”
“Not your business, big sister,” Bindu shot back. “Oh! Daddy, one more thing. If we do this engagement party in September, it’s not going to interfere with your retirement plan to move to Florida, right?”
Kareena spewed chai all over the table. “What?”
“Bindu, she doesn’t know yet.” Her father pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heartfelt annoyed sigh.
This had to be a joke. “You’re retiring? In Florida?”
Kareena waited for a response, but the kitchen was pin-drop silent.
“Are you . . . are you selling the house?”
“Kareena . . .”
“Oh my god.” The words were raw in Kareena’s throat, like bile had burned her and she was struggling to speak.
Her family looked at one another, down at their plates, at the floor, anywhere but directly at her. Dadi turned her back and fixated on the stove.
“Please tell me you aren’t going to sell Mom’s house,” Kareena exploded. It was a living, breathing entity that held all her favorite memories. And somewhere, between fixing pipes, changing wallpaper, adding her shed in the backyard, and replacing window treatments, the house had become hers, too.
“Dadi and Dad said you were going to be emotional about it,” Bindu replied as she picked up a napkin to clean some of the chai spray that landed on the table in front of her. “And you are kind of proving them right, Kareena.”
Kareena pushed back from the table, her brain racing to try to compute what was happening. “This is Mom’s home. It’s her dream home. She designed and built it from the ground up! We built it from the ground up.” Kareena had even helped repair doorknobs and light fixtures in an effort to keep her mother’s vision and passion alive. “Dad, why am I only finding out about this now? Why does Bindu know about it before me?”
“Beta,” her father said gently. He folded his hands in front of his empty cereal bowl. “I know how close you were to your mom and how much this house means to you, too. How you thought maybe one day you’d live here. But I think it’s time we all moved on. I can sell it, and then take the money and buy myself a retirement home. Your sister is moving out soon, your grandmother is thinking about moving back to India—”
“Dadi is going back to India?”
“Your father has worked hard almost all his life,” Dadi said as she prepared a parantha. She pinched dough and rolled it into a small ball before flattening it with a slap of her palm. “It’s time for him to enjoy himself. And for me to go back home.”
“Dadi, you’ve been here for eighteen years,” Kareena said. “This is your home. And Dad, this house meant a lot to you, too. I refuse to believe that you’re going to sell it without talking about it with me!”