“At first they stayed as constants, welcoming new students as they came. Helping them adjust,” Vin said. “Then they stayed to make a go of it in America.”
“They turned this building from a single residence into five separate apartments.” Sabina’s chest puffed with pride. “Like the communal homes in India. They lived separately and collectively. Open doors between the families, no need for formal invitations. They went back to India to marry and started their families here. The children, our parents, were raised by all of the adults.”
Meena finally understood the symbolism of the unlocked door. She hadn’t welcomed them freely into the space they’d been used to going in and out of their whole lives, as a matter of tradition. She’d been keeping them out.
“And the same for us, and our children.” Tanvi smiled. “Right, Sam?”
“It took an entire year of my meager ten-year-old allowance to pay Uma auntie back for breaking her window with a baseball,” Sam said.
“You were a good kid,” said Uma. “Each generation assimilated more and more within American culture, but we kept a lot of our heritage, our traditions. Our parents taught us. We teach our children.”
Meena caught the pointed look Sabina gave her son. “Our parents didn’t have easy access to Indian groceries. It is only in the last twenty years that all these Patel Brothers opened. Before, they would bring suitcases full of masala and dal and nuts, everything they could, from India. Then each family would share with others.”
“Did Neha have a large family?” Meena wanted to know if there were others, if she shared DNA with anyone else.
“She was an only child,” Sabina said. “Her parents moved to Nairobi after Neha received her master’s degree from Harvard.”
“They left her the apartment?”
“It goes to the eldest child,” Sabina explained. “At twenty-five.”
“She wasn’t married when she took it over?”
“No,” Uma said. “It’s not a requirement. Neha put it off for as long as possible. Then, in her early thirties, she agreed to an arranged marriage with Kaushik.”
“What happens if there are no children?”
Silence enveloped the room.
“Neha was the only one, to date, who did not have any.” Sabina sipped her drink. “I spoke with her about the future, offered to buy her unit. You can only sell if it is to one of the descendants of the original five. But she was stubborn and refused me. Several times. She wanted to decide who to leave the apartment to. I finally agreed to it with the caveat that whoever inherited the apartment would have the option to sell it to one of us after a year if they chose to do so.”
They all looked at Meena. She didn’t know if she was supposed to agree or disagree to whatever wasn’t being directly asked. She chose to stay quiet.
“We’ve spent some time discussing how the apartment came to be yours,” Uma stated.
Meena tensed. She wondered if this was why they’d invited her. For a face-off of a sort. She didn’t belong in this building full of history and legacy. Meena glanced at Sabina. It had to be her doing. The woman had kept her distance, where Tanvi had welcomed Meena. She squeezed the strap of her purse to steady herself for whatever came next. If they confronted her over her right to the apartment, Meena would fight them. She’d inherited it, legally. Neha had wanted Meena to have it, and she wasn’t going to go away quietly.
“We believe Neha knew your parents.” Tanvi’s voice softened. “That there was some connection. She was erratic, but she did love her apartment. She wouldn’t be so cavalier in giving it away.”
Meena bit the inside of her lip. No, Neha hadn’t been cavalier. “And she had no descendants.” She waited to see how they would fill in the blanks, wondered if they would acknowledge the possibility that Meena was more than a daughter of a friend.