"She has gotten involved with some new business," Amma continued. "She will tell you all about it."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Mita Auntie grinned conspiratorially at Rasika. "You will never guess where I met Rasika."

Venika Auntie was upon them. She had cut her hair recently and looked even younger than before. Except for the dark circles under her eyes, which had been there since Rasika remembered, she could pa.s.s for thirty. She bent down and put both hands on Mita Auntie's shoulders. "So nice to see you again!"

Mita Auntie looked up at Venika. "I was just telling Sujata-by chance, I saw Rasika and Abhay at hotel when we arrived."

Mita Auntie had a high, piercing voice, audible to anyone at the table. Rasika noticed that Subhash was looking at them from across the table.

The lights above the table blinked on. Rasika startled for a moment, and then smiled brightly. "It was really a coincidence, wasn't it? Seeing both you and Abhay there at the same time."

"Last night?" Amma's eyes narrowed. "It must have been someone else. Rasika was at home."

"We arrived Friday," Mita Auntie explained. "Our plane was late. We are standing in lobby waiting for Kanchan to finish registration, and I saw Abhay. He was just leaving. And then, Kanchan saw Rasika!"

Rasika kept on smiling. "I was so surprised! I was just finishing up dinner with a friend, and there was Kanchan Uncle!"

Venika Auntie smiled her sleepy smile. "Abhay told some time ago he saw you," she said.

The table grew silent. Subhash was still looking at them. Rasika forced a laugh. "I ran into him about a week ago at a restaurant, and then again at the hotel. We seem to keep b.u.mping into each other."

"That is good you and Abhay are meeting. Maybe you can talk sense to him." Venika Auntie drew a business card out of her purse and handed it to Mita Auntie. "I am marketing representative for some really wonderful educational products. Your children are older, I know, but if you know someone else interested, please give me call."

Mita Auntie looked the card over. "We are so far away."

"I can sell anywhere. Any part of country. We will ship all over."

Mita Auntie nodded and smiled and kept looking at the card. Rasika was glad her mother had never tried to sell things to her friends. Venika Auntie drifted away to the next table. A uniformed server asked their table to go to the buffet, and Rasika leaped up to get away from her mother's icy glare.

Amma stood close behind Rasika in the line and whispered, "What is this about you and Abhay?"

"I just saw him a couple of times. It was by accident." Abhay's table was coming up to the buffet line. If she were unlucky, she'd end up facing him over the buffet. She'd just have to be as matter-of-fact as possible.

"It doesn't look good," Amma said. "I know you don't mean anything by it, but others will talk. He is nothing. He got good grades in school, but he has no sense. You don't want to ruin your chances now. What if the news got around to Dilip's family that you were seen with another boy?"

"I wasn't even with him. I can't help it if Mita Auntie saw us at the same place."

"And what were you doing out at some hotel? You told me you stayed home all evening. I don't know why you lie to me. We don't prevent you from having fun. If you want to go out with some girlfriends, why should I object? You have all the freedom you want. All I ask is that you stay away from boys."

Rasika listened, knowing that if she allowed her mother to scold without interruption, it would soon be over.

"Do you think I could move about like you do, at your age?" Amma hissed. "I was married. I had to ask my husband's permission before doing anything. And before marriage, I had to ask my father's permission. I didn't have my own car. I didn't have my own job. You have all of this, and still you lie. What is there to lie about? I don't know why you would bother. You cannot want to marry Abhay. And not just because of his caste. I can be open-minded if the boy is really special, but what has he done with himself? He has thrown away every opportunity. His wife will be supporting him."

"I'm not interested in him, Amma."

"We are strict with you for your own good. You don't want to turn out like Nita, do you?"

Nita was the daughter of an unconventional Indian couple in their community. Rasika shifted her eyes slightly to look at Nita's parents, standing and chatting at a table nearby. Rupal Auntie had short graying hair. Instead of a silk sari with a gold border, such as most of the other women were wearing, she wore a cotton sari with a pattern of small tie-dyed diamonds and dots. It was a cute, tribal sort of sari, but not appropriate for a wedding reception. Sri Uncle wore a dress shirt, but it looked wrinkled, as though he'd just gotten up from fixing a pipe-he owned a plumbing repair company, even though he was a trained engineer. Rasika was very familiar with their story, since her parents often used them as an example of what not to do. Theirs had not been an arranged marriage: she was from a Punjabi family, raised in Delhi, and he was a Tamilian boy who had somehow gone astray. They'd waited several years after marriage to produce a child. Nita had grown up without the usual restrictions placed by Indian parents: she had dated and partic.i.p.ated as a dancer in school musicals wearing next to nothing, and had worked as a bartender during college. Now she lived in Alaska, of all places, working at some sort of hiking tour service. No, Rasika didn't want to turn out like Nita.

Abhay's family shuffled into the opposite line, and Rasika stepped back slightly in an attempt to get out of Abhay's line of sight.

"That family," Amma said. "They have so much potential. What do they do with it? His sister has no idea how to dress. If she would only smile, it might be okay."

Dark and skinny, Seema was the only female in the room not wearing Indian clothes. She was in a black ankle-length skirt and black sandals and a black T-shirt.

Rasika touched the gold and diamond necklace at her throat, picked up a plate, and waited while the person ahead of her selected a few flat, greasy pooris.

Abhay wished he hadn't agreed to come to this reception. His cab ride home from the hotel had cost him over a hundred dollars, and in the cab he'd vowed to himself never to see Rasika again.

Last night he'd gone over to Chris's house for the barbecue and had tried to enter into the casual cheerfulness of everyone there. Several friends from high school were there, and they all called him "Adios." He'd had trouble remembering some of their names. He'd eaten a hamburger, and Mrs. Haldorson's famous potato salad, and Mr. Haldorson's famous cheesecake, and had listened to Emily Nuttman's husband describe his job as a commemorative jewelry salesman. Abhay had come home with a stomachache, and had tried to persuade his mother that he was too sick to attend the reception. His mom made him some fennel tea and urged him to make an appearance. Besides, he had to admit that, against his will, he was desperate to see Rasika again.

Now Rasika was pretending he didn't exist. What else did he expect? Yesterday, despite his efforts to distract himself, he'd been unable to think about anything except her. He was infatuated with her. He had tried, all day, to list in his mind her good qualities and faults, in order to bring some order and logic to his runaway feelings. On the one hand, he told himself, she was gorgeous, and even though she didn't see the world as he did, she was still curious and possessed some wisdom. He kept thinking about what she'd said in the hotel room-that he was waiting to start living. That was true. But how long was he going to go on like this, killing time because he couldn't make up his mind? Maybe it would be better to follow her advice, to pick something and just do it. If he were with her, maybe she could help him to see his path more clearly.

On the other hand, she was a liar and a cheat. There was no denying that. Yet he desperately wanted to be with her again. That's what she did to a lot of men, probably-messed up their heads and then left.

It was his turn to take a plate. Rasika was on the opposite side of the table. He glanced at her over the steaming chafing dishes, wondering how she would act. She was all dolled up in proper Indian clothes, with a sparkly k.u.mk.u.m on her forehead and the requisite gold jewelry.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, as though surprised at his presence. "Hi, again. I was just telling Amma that I keep running into you." Her manner was casual and unconcerned. He had to admit, she was a terrific liar.

"How are you, Abhay?" Rasika's mother gave him one of her cool smiles. "What do you plan to do now that you are home?"

"I'm still exploring," he said.

His mother turned to Sujata. "Further studies he is thinking."

"In what field?" Sujata Auntie sifted through the pakodas with a pair of tongs. Most of them had already fallen apart, their onion or chili filling separated from the batter coating. "What is your background, exactly?" She selected one whole pakoda and dropped it onto her plate.

"Law we are telling him to look," his mother said. "Good background for law he has."

Abhay served himself some rice that wasn't too dried out. The buffet already looked unappetizing and picked over.

"Rasika, what about you?" his mother asked. "When you will invite me to your wedding?"

"We are very close to making the announcement," Sujata Auntie said.

A papadum slipped out of Abhay's hand to the floor. He bent down, retrieved the thin wafer, and took his time inspecting it for dirt. When he straightened, Rasika was smiling demurely at her plate. Sujata Auntie, head held high, pursed her lips, as though to prevent the good news from escaping prematurely. Was Rasika putting on an act, or had she really agreed to marry the guy she'd seen the day before?

She began to glow with a golden light. He blinked. Still she glowed, and appeared to be slowly expanding, filling up his vision with her presence. She was a G.o.ddess, and he was falling in love with her. What was he going to do about it? He stirred the mutter paneer to see if there were any pieces of cheese left and, finding none, poured a spoonful of peas onto his rice.

At the end of the buffet line Rasika turned and Abhay couldn't help but drift after her, like a leaf caught in a current. He balanced his plate and napkin in one hand and touched her shoulder through the golden glow. He was surprised to feel her solidness. She stopped and glared at him.

"I love you," he whispered.

Sujata Auntie, standing several feet away, stared at him. If she'd heard, he didn't care.

For an instant, Rasika looked at him with stunned eyes. Then she composed herself, crinkled her eyes, and gave a hollow laugh. "Very funny."

"Meet me tomorrow," he whispered. "After work, at the Fox and Hound."

She turned her back to her mother. "Only if you leave me completely alone today."

"Okay," he agreed. Anything to see her again.

Rasika turned away from Abhay and was walking back to her table when Kanchan Uncle appeared next to her. Her heart was pounding as a result of what Abhay had said. She forced herself to smile at Kanchan Uncle as they walked.

"I know what you were doing at the hotel with Abhay," he said quietly.

She stopped in her tracks. What was he implying?

"I saw you come out of the elevator with him, and with your suitcase," he continued. "Your hair was wet. I know what you were doing."

She stared.

"I want to make a suggestion." He was smiling slightly, balancing his plate piled high with a stack of pooris, mounds of rice and curries, and a large papadum crowning the whole thing. He kept his distance from her, as though they were just having a polite conversation. Other guests walked around them on their way to and from the buffet table.

"I want you to meet me at the hotel tomorrow," he said. "My family will be out visiting some friends. I will tell them I am not feeling well. You come and visit me."

Rasika was shocked. She'd never thought an Indian uncle was capable of making any kind of proposition like this. She furrowed her brow and glanced around her.

"I am going away on Tuesday," he said. "No one will know. I will be completely silent."

She laughed, as though she were finally getting the joke. "Very funny." She started walking away. He followed.

"I will tell Mita what I saw," he said, catching up to her. "And you know she cannot resist spreading good gossip."

"Go ahead and tell," Rasika said. "As if I care." She reached their empty table, settled into her seat, and spread her napkin over her lap.

In a moment everyone else returned to the table, and Kanchan Uncle paid no further attention to her. He sat on the other side of the table, showing his camera to her father. It was a big, black thing with a cylindrical protruding lens. It looked heavy. Appa's face seemed its usual mask of worry, with two dents above his eyebrows and his squinting blinks as he took the camera into his own hands and examined it. "We should get a digital camera like this one," Appa shouted across the table to Amma. "Single lens reflex. You can change lenses, so you can take a panorama, or a close-up from far away." He spoke half in English and half in Tamil. He held the camera up to his eye and aimed it at Rasika.

"This camera will produce a much higher quality image than the one you have." Kanchan waved his hand at the flat little silver box next to Rasika's father's plate. "I should have taken a picture with this when I saw Rasika at the hotel the other day." Kanchan winked at her.

Rasika had the urge to duck under the table. What would Appa do if he were to find out the truth about her? Rasika felt sick thinking about her father's distress and her mother's disappointment.

"Best Buy is having a sale," Amma said. "You go and look there."

"Kanchan says we will get the best price online. He is giving me Web site."

Kanchan scribbled something on a paper napkin. "And this comes with optical zoom."

"Kanchan loves to shop online," Mita Auntie shouted. "These days he will never enter any stores."

Rasika wondered if Abhay was right-that the United States was merely a place for her family to buy stuff. She looked around the windowless room. She recalled being in a very similar room a few years ago, when they went to North Carolina to visit Ahalya Auntie and their family. They had tagged along to someone's wedding reception, and although it had been in a different part of the country, with different people, it was much the same: a bland room with decorations brought from India, or made to look like something people remembered from India. The people in this room were perched here as if they had just landed temporarily. Everyone knew that their real home was India.

After lunch a DJ played cheesy Bollywood songs, American oldies, and top-forty hits, and the younger generation-those raised in the United States-danced lazily. The older women congregated at one another's tables. Everyone else at Rasika's table had wandered off, but Rasika thought she'd have better luck avoiding everyone if she just stayed put.

Subhash appeared at Rasika's side. "May I sit here?" he asked softly, putting a hand on the back of the chair next to hers. He wore a large white jubba over dress pants. There was a wet spot next to the b.u.t.tons of his shirt, as though he'd spilled something on himself and then wiped it off with a wet napkin.

She pushed away her untouched kulfi. She'd never liked that extra-rich Indian ice cream. "Sure." It would be better to be seen talking to Subhash than to Abhay.

He sat awkwardly on the edge of his chair, leaning his arms on the table and drumming his fingers lightly. Finally he said, without looking at her, "You look really beautiful today." Although he had a fairly heavy Indian accent, he tried hard not to roll his r's.

"Thank you." She looked past him to the dance floor, and at the other tables. She didn't see Abhay anywhere.

"I am sorry to hear that things did not work out with Viraj," he continued. Rasika noticed sweat shining on his broad face. He had always been a serious, somewhat nervous boy. "Rasika, since we are cousins, I hope I can speak freely."

She looked at him in alarm. What was he going to bring up? They'd never "spoken freely" before in all the years she'd known him. In fact, they had hardly spoken at all. Mostly, when the families ate dinner together, Subhash ended up in front of the TV, clicking through channels, watching sports and news and sitcoms without showing any sign of emotional involvement with any of it.

Now he sat on the edge of his chair and slapped the stubby forefinger of his right hand onto the palm of his left hand. "Many men might be timid in a situation like this," he said. "They may wait for their parents to arrange things. My parents are reluctant to speak to your father, because of everything your father has done for us. They don't want to ask for more."

He was speaking to her knee. The forefinger moved up and down forcefully with each point. Rasika realized it looked like a machine-a typewriter spelling out the words, as though he had programmed himself to say what he was typing.

"Subhash. Let's not talk about this right-"

"But I have a different view," he continued, as though he hadn't even heard her. "In my business, I have learned the power of making a request."

His hands were still poised in the air. She leaned back, resigning herself to hearing him out.

"I am confident that I can offer you a very good life." The finger started pumping away again. "I know you must marry soon. I am also aware that people have been talking about you. This is very bad for a woman's reputation. I have heard from Viraj what happened. I have seen myself that you were with Abhay in Kent."

Rasika flinched inwardly every time his finger slammed down. She kept her face immobile, however.

"I cannot think you mean anything by it," he continued. "You were raised in this country, so you are not so familiar with Indian modesty. You do not realize that an unmarried girl should not be seen wandering about with men. Therefore, I am willing and able to offer you a good, safe life. Since I am just starting out at this new location, I can offer you a partnership. As my wife, you will be a full partner. You were raised in this country. You have an American accent. You are good with people. I think you will attract a wide range of customers." One last time, he dropped the rod of his forefinger into the claws of the other hand. Then he lowered his hands to his lap and looked down at them.

"I already have a job," she reminded him.

The hands were raised again. "You will be a full partner in the business," he repeated, talking to the table. "You will be an owner. This is better for you than working at a job where you can be let go at any moment."

She sat back to observe him. Was he really in love with her and didn't know how to express it? Or did he just think she'd be good for business?

"You see, I may not be able to offer this later," he said. "If too many rumors start about you, I will not be able to make this same proposal. But if you come in with me now, on the ground floor, and help me to build the business, then of course I would-"

"Subhash." She put both her hands over his hands, to stop his anxious movements.

He made eye contact, finally. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows were slightly raised. He looked scared-terrified, even. She realized this was more for him than a business proposition. Perhaps he was even in love with her. She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

She took her hands away from his. "I think we should let the elders deal with this," she suggested gently. "That's the Indian way, after all."

He bundled his hands together into one large fist between his knees. "I think my mother spoke with your mother. But my father is reluctant, as I said."

"My mother mentioned your interest, but my father is hesitant. He thinks we're too closely related. Maybe we should heed their wisdom."

Subhash sighed heavily. His broad shoulders seemed to deflate as he hunched over.

Rasika stood up. "Your offer is very sweet. But I don't think it's the right thing for me."

He looked up at her with his scared eyes. "Rasika, I do like you. I think you are very pretty. We are adults. We don't have to do just what our parents tell us."

"I'm not the right wife for you, Subhash," she said.