Chapter 22
W
hen I opened my eyes the next morning, I found Akka sitting beside the window, reading by the light of a floor lamp. She looked fresh as a dewdrop, bathed and dressed in a blue and white-print sari, the freshwater pearls around her neck.
She looked at me over the rim of her reading glasses. “You must have been tired. You slept well.”
I pushed the covers aside, sat up, and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Five minutes after six.”
“Oh no!” I shot out of bed. “What time does your tour start?”
“8:30 from Union Station.” Akka looked unruffled. “Don't worry, we have plenty of time.”
“No, we don'tânot in rush-hour traffic. Union Station's in Washington, and we're in Virginia.”
“Maneel said something about hotel pickup and I didn't have to go into Washington in the morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Let me see.” Akka rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a piece of paper. “It says the shuttle bus picks up passengers in front of this hotel at 7:15 A.M.”
“Right here at the hotel? That's great. But I still need to hurry.” In about twenty minutes I managed to put myself together. I wore my navy suit with a pale gray blouse and navy pumps.
“
Wah,
how smart you look in your office clothes,” remarked Akka. “Very executive-like.” The pride and admiration in her voice made me feel all warm inside.
We went downstairs to the hotel's restaurant and opted for the buffet breakfast. It was the quickest way to fill ourselves and get Akka on that bus in time.
While Akka finished her toast, fruit, and coffee, I spoke to the concierge about the bus. He said it almost always arrived a few minutes late. I looked at my watch. Eight minutes after seven. Akka had just enough time to run to the ladies' room before boarding the bus.
The clouds and rain from the previous night had disappeared. I was happy to note that the sun was beginning to emerge. The TV weatherman had forecast a cool but sunny Wednesday. Akka wouldn't have to walk around Washington in a cold drizzle.
While we waited in the parking lot for the bus, I handed her my cell phone. “Here, I want you to keep this with you at all times.”
“But
you
need it, Meena.”
“I'll be in an office with plenty of phones, whereas you'll be on a bus tour.”
Akka rolled her eyes. It was a comical gesture for someone like her. “I'm capable of using a pay phone, dear.”
“Pay phones are a thing of the past,” I reminded her. “What if you need to reach me urgently?” I didn't say it aloud, but what if she had a heart attack? What if she fell and broke her hip? In spite of all her feistiness and zest for life, she was still an old woman. Although I was grateful for her company, I didn't think it was safe to let her go into a strange city all alone. The cell phone would be my only connection to her.
She turned the phone over in her palm. “I don't know how to use this.”
I took it back and showed her how to dial Maryann Merlino's office and cell numbers. Both were programmed in. It took Akka a minute or two to figure out how the phone worked, and then she slipped it into her big, black handbag.
When the bus pulled up, I breathed a sigh of relief. About half a dozen other individuals, mostly middle-aged and older, had been waiting alongside us. As two more came out of the hotel and joined them, I felt a lot better since Akka was not the only passenger from this particular hotel.
As soon as the bus's automatic doors whooshed open, I went up to the driver to ask what time the bus would return. He told me to expect it back around 6:30 P.M. Akka was going to have a long day.
“You're sure you'll be able to handle being on your feet all day?” I asked her.
“Of course. If I get tired, I'll find a place to sit down and rest. Don't worry,
charda.
”
“Okay.” I pressed four twenty-dollar bills into her hand. “Buy yourself a nice lunch and a souvenir or two,” I told her.
She looked at the money and frowned. “I don't need this. Kalpa has given me enough cash. And Maneel bought me the tickets.”
“Shh, just take it and stop arguing,” I said.
“I can't take things from young people,” she grumbled.
I knew it went against her culture to take gifts from someone younger than herself, but I pushed her. “You give me gifts all the time.” I thought of the expensive pistachio-colored
kurti,
a silk tunic top with silver embroidery at the neck and sleeves, she'd brought me this time. “It's not much, so don't look like I raided the bank.”
She reluctantly put the money in her bag, gave me a pat on the back, and boarded the bus. I waved at her as she settled herself in a window seat. “Enjoy your dayâand be careful. Hold on to your purse,” I said. The motor was running, and I didn't think she heard me, so I made hand gestures to get the message across. She nodded.
Two minutes later, I watched the bus roll out of the parking lot. It was time for me to go to my meeting. I returned to our room, touched up my lipstick, grabbed my briefcase, and went outside once again to find my car.
Despite the morning traffic, it took me very little time to get to the multistory office building with the help of my GPS.
Standing beside my car, I studied the structure. It was similar to our modern brick and glass office in New Jersey. But this branch of Rathnaya was smaller because only a handful of employees and Prajay worked here. It was more of a liaison office between the government customers and Rathnaya. Most of the technical and administrative work was done in New Jersey.
On the fifth floor, the heavy twin glass doors at the far end of the hallway showed Rathnaya and its familiar logo, the letter
R
nestled inside a circle, painted black and silver. Two doors before I reached it, I spied the ladies' room, so I ducked in there.
I checked on my hair and makeup once again. I had to look my best. I had to make Prajay see what he was missing. I was being silly of course, but it was hard to convince myself that there were no feelings whatsoever on his part. He'd been warm and attentive the previous evening.
With shoulders erect, I walked up to the glass doors and strode in. I didn't find a receptionist, only rows of small offices on either side of a long, blue-carpeted aisle.
I kept reading the nameplates outside each room, looking for Maryann Merlino. Most of the offices had their doors closed or they were open but empty. It was a little before eight o'clock. So where was everybody? Then I realized I was probably too early. In my anxious state of mind I hadn't even bothered to ask what time the office opened.
I did manage to find two cubicles occupied. A couple of curious faces, both of them young Indian males, looked up from their desks as I wandered along, but no one thought to question my presence. A young
desi
on the premises was probably the norm around here.
I had talked to Maryann over the phone often enough, but had never met her. Paul had told me she was a bubbly, enthusiastic woman in her forties. She had worked for Rathnaya since the company had first started. She had been promoted from clerk to secretary to office manager.
Just then a woman who fit Maryann's description came around the corner, a coffeepot in hand. I stepped forward with a smile. “Maryann?”
She knew who I was right away. “Meena!”
“Yes.”
“My, you're an early bird. I wasn't expecting you until later, or I would've been waiting for you in the lobby.”
“I didn't realize the office was so easy to get to, so I started out early.”
She hastened forward to greet me with a firm handshake. “We finally meet.”
“Yes.” I felt tiny beside her. She was probably no more than four inches taller than me, but she was big-boned. She had on a knee-length, gray wool skirt, black sweater, and mid-heel pumps.
“Let's go to my office,” she said, and walked me down to a door almost at the end of the hallway. “I was just about to put on a pot of coffee.”
As soon as we entered her office I said, “Sorry. Guess I'm intruding on your early morning routine?”
“Not at all. I was hoping to offer you fresh coffee.” She pointed to a guest chair across from her desk. “Put your briefcase down; have a seat.” She poured the water in the coffeemaker placed on a credenza by the window. “Did you have a good drive down from New Jersey last night?”
“It rained from Maryland all the way down.”
“That's a shame.” She paused. “So how's Paul's friend doing? I understand he's going to have surgery?”
“The surgery's today.” I didn't want to elaborate on anything. I wasn't sure how much Maryann and the Washington staff knew about Paul's homosexuality and Jeremy. Luckily she didn't ask any more questions. I liked and respected Paul too much to gossip about him.
Maryann was attractive in a motherly sort of fashion: short brown hair with blond highlights, high cheekbones, a nice complexion, and an open, no-nonsense expression. Paul had mentioned that she had two children in college.
Placing my briefcase on the floor, I took off my coat and hung it on the coatrack by the door. “Feels strange to meet for the first time, doesn't it?” I sat down. “With all our e-mails and phone conversations, I feel like we know each other rather well,” I said to her.
She laughed. “Happens to me a lot. I keep in close touch with so many people from the Jersey office. Other than Paul and Nishant, and now you, I haven't met anyone else face-to-face.”
I watched her measure coffee into a filter and slide it into place. She was quick and efficient. Her office was about the same size as mine, but hers was much more cheerful and welcoming, with the morning sun streaming in through the single window. A couple of plants were flourishing on the sill.
Although paperwork in piles happened to be everywhere, I had a feeling it was organized chaos. Maryann had never come across as a scatterbrain.
Family pictures covered one shelf of a bookcase. “I'm assuming they're your sons,” I said, indicating a picture with two young men in baseball caps and sweatshirts. They were sitting in a boat, squinting into the light while facing the camera.
“My boys,” she confirmed. “The one on the left is Jeff. He's a senior at Virginia Tech, and Jason's a sophomore at Maryland.” Her eyes swept warmly over the pictures. “My guys love fishing,” she said. “They take after their father. Robert, my husband, would fish every day of the year if he could. But he's got to work to pay the bills.”
I looked at the shot of Maryann and a tall, ruggedly built man. “Nice-looking husband you've got.”
When I saw her beaming face I realized I'd pushed the right button.
“He was a football star and engineering major when we met.” Her pride in him was unmistakable. She got out the creamer and sugar jars. The hissing, sputtering coffeepot was filling up. The aroma of coffee was spreading across the room.
“Lucky you,” I said. It was nice to see someone married a long time and happy with it. Reminded me of my mother and my aunts.
Minutes later we both got our coffee and settled down to business. Maryann led me to a conference room that had a large table and about a dozen chairs placed around it.
I pulled out all the paperwork from my briefcase, and we went over samples of the glossy brochures that the advertising firm had sent us a few days earlier. We were supposed to meet a graphics designer and some other man from the agency at 9:30 A.M.
Maryann looked over my text. “Good job. Hope the advertising guys like it. Honestly, I wonder why Nishant and Prajay hired an expensive agency when Paul and you do such nice work.”
“We do what we can, but this is a huge project. And we've grown so much bigger with the new acquisition, we need more professional help.”
“I suppose. The competition on the Hill is stiff. Lots of software companies with powerful lobbyists working for them. We're swimming alongside the whales and sharks now.” She sighed. “And in Washington, they're all bloodthirsty sharks.”
“Paul says we might even be doing a TV commercial at some point in the future?”
Maryann nodded. “Maybe, in the distant future. It's ridiculously expensive. For now it's some print and mostly Internet.”
We heard footsteps and voices. The other employees were beginning to trickle in. Maryann introduced me to some of them, and we chatted briefly. All of them had backgrounds in computer science; all were specialists in software design and development.
I felt comfortable in this place. The people seemed nice enough.
Around nine o'clock Prajay walked in. “Good morning, ladies. I see you're already here and working hard,” he said to me.