We all looked at him blankly.
Rashid focused on my mother. “Please don’t make any decisions until after the street festival. We will get the word out more widely, advertise through print and on social media. Let us not forget the lessons ofField of Dreams.”
We looked at him blankly again, and he threw up his hands. “Haven’t you watchedanybaseball movies?”
“We’re more of a soccer family,” Fahim said. “Fazee lovesBend It Like Beckham.”
Rashid ignored him. “We need to get everyone excited and take advantage of the widespread animosity against Junaid Shah. No one likes him right now, and they will support each other. Next week, who knows who the villain will be?”
He reached behind the counter and pulled out two large stacks of flyers printed on brilliant goldenrod paper: advertisements for the street festival. Rashid grinned at my surprised expression. “You have no idea how vicious the accounting business can be in Delhi. My parents trained me to attack first and think later.”
I made a note to ask Kawkab Khala about Rashid’s parents. I wondered what type of “accounting” business they were actually involved in.
Rashid showed off his handiwork, and we all dutifully admired the flyers.
“Hana Apa and I have already made much progress in planning,” he lied effortlessly to my mother. “We have another meeting this evening at the Tim Hortons, to work on all the details.” My cousin looked at me for confirmation, and I had no choice. I nodded.
Now I allowed myself to hope that the man with the clipboard in front of Wholistic Grill had been sent for a surprise inspection after all. Maybe it would slow Aydin down and give us time to regroup. He was the reason this was happening to my family.
That faint flicker of hope in the eyes of my mother and Fahim was worth any price. I resolved to shelve my guilt and double down on my efforts.
IN THE BOOTH AT TIM HORTONSthat evening, Rashid tucked into his order of a half-dozen assorted doughnuts. “When I return to India, I will miss doughnuts very much. Promise you will mail a dozen every two weeks, Hana Apa. I ask for no other payment for all the advice and mentorship I have provided.”
I smiled and tried not to think about Rashid leaving. In the short time since his arrival, my cousin had wormed his way into my affections.I didn’t want him to return to India in a year, or four; I would miss his antics and his sense of humour too much. His loyalty had been unflinching, and I had grown used to having an ally on the street.
“Do you miss your family very much?” I asked.
Rashid wiped his face and nodded. “I miss my ammi’s parathas. And my abba and I used to drink chai together every morning before he went to the office. There were always people coming in and out of our house; we didn’t bother locking the front door.”
So much family togetherness sounded wonderful, and suffocating. As if reading my mind, my cousin grinned at me. “Everyone is always in each other’s business,” he added. “I could barely talk to a girl without everyone asking me when the wedding would be.”
“That must have been difficult for you,” I said drily.
Rashid nodded solemnly. “But do not worry about the beautiful Zulfa. Once committed, I am a loyal partner.”
I smothered my laugh. “I wish you both the best of luck—once you get Aydin out of the way, of course,” I teased.
Rashid only waved his hand as if swatting a mosquito.
I took out my notebook and turned to a new page. We had discussed a few ideas already, and I wrote them down while Rashid finished off the doughnuts.
“We cannot call our meeting to order yet,” he said, mouth full of glazed goodness. “We are waiting for the rest of the planning committee.”
I pinned him with a look. “What have you done, Rashid?”
“I told you that I invited Aydin to the street festival, Hana Apa,” he reminded me. “In turn, he informed me that the beautiful Zulfa would help out.” So this was all a ploy for Rashid to flirt with Zulfa. I had to have a serious discussion with him about priorities, as well as family loyalty.
Aydin and Zulfa chose that moment to enter the coffee shop. They took their seats, Aydin across from me and Zulfa across from Rashid. She immediately took a small tablet from her designer tote, her tone businesslike.
“I’m so glad Rashid reached out to me. I love local street festivals, and this will really help out Wholistic Grill,” Zulfa said.
“Have you encountered problems recently?” I asked innocently. I know, I know.
Aydin and Zulfa exchanged a look. “Everything is proceeding as anticipated,” Aydin said shortly.
Zulfa poked his shoulder. “We’re among friends, silly.” She leaned forward. “There have been rumours circulating online that the restaurant isn’t really halal, and that the construction site is unsafe, but we’re dealing with it. You know how people love to talk. All part of opening jitters.”
Rashid made sympathetic noises while I tried not to smirk. “That must be really difficult,” I said. “Rumours like that can devastate a new business.”
