If she took a photo of herself, Meena knew she’d see the same bleakness she saw in Neha’s eyes. She held the album in her lap and mourned for this woman she was starting to know. She looked at the photos of the aunties again. The love and friendship among them were so obvious in the way they smiled, the way they wrapped their arms around each other. They hadn’t included Neha in the trio. Was it because that was how Neha had wanted it? Or had inclusion not been offered to her?
Neha was only her birth mother, but Meena hadn’t felt this link with anyone, not with a sense of deep familiarity. Whether she felt the link because of living here or through the notes or these photos, Neha mattered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The four frothy concoctions were as festive as the decor in the dark lounge. The leather furniture, the rich wood of the tabletops, the paneled walls were made cheerful with gold metallic garlands, red-and-white ornaments, and white lights.
“These are almost too pretty to drink,” Tanvi said. “Not that it’s going to stop me.”
“I’m going to start with the spiced Mexican chocolate,” Uma said, “then work my way down.”
“I’m going in the opposite direction,” Sabina said. “Peppermint first. I like to end with a kick of heat.”
Meena listened to them debate about the hot chocolate flight in front of them. Four tall mugs, bursting with whipped cream at the rims, each topped with something unique—from a burned-marshmallow skewer to a gingerbread cookie to a candy cane. Each laced with Baileys or vodka in a complementary flavor.
“Which one are you starting with, Meena?” Sabina asked.
Even her simple questions sounded like an interrogation to Meena. “The dulce de leche.”
Sabina shook her head. “That’s the best way to end. Before we go to the Oak Long Bar for cocktails.”
All three aunties wore matching snowflake scarves and red-and-green earrings that Meena was sure held real rubies and emeralds.
Meena joined them with a raised glass as Uma gave a toast to bring on the beginning of the holiday season. They’d talked her into joining their day-after-Thanksgiving tradition: a hot chocolate tasting at Buttermilk & Bourbon, martinis at the Oak Bar, and dinner at Deuxave—all in their Back Bay neighborhood. While the Engineer’s House was on a quiet street, each street away from the Charles River was busier, more crowded with shops and offices than the one before.
The aunties took turns splurging for the day. This year it was Uma’s treat, and she got to choose the dinner restaurant.
“Drink up, ladies,” Tanvi said. “Hot chocolate is best when it’s still hot.”
Meena sipped her second mug while the aunties had moved on to their last. She’d joined them because they’d asked. More than that, she wanted to get to know them. Pry into their lives and their relationship with Neha. A part of her also wanted to see if Tanvi and Uma shared Sabina’s dislike for Neha and if they also wanted Meena gone. She didn’t want to believe it of Tanvi, but Uma was a wild card. She also wanted to know if there was a possibility for genuine friendship.
“How long have you been doing this?” Meena asked.
“It’s one of our more recent traditions.” Uma licked a dollop of whipped cream off the candy cane. “The summer of 2013. After the marathon bombing, there was an effort to support the Back Bay businesses, and we wanted to do our part. As we spent the day from brunch to bar to dinner, we came up with this idea.”
“All week we prepare for Thanksgiving.” Sabina gesticulated. “Friday after is our day while the husbands clean.”
“Did Neha ever join?” Meena asked.
Tanvi shook her head. “We used to invite her, but she always said no. After a while we stopped asking.”
“Neha preferred to spend time with her books,” Uma said. “She always had a few open she would switch between and would jot down notes, dog-ear pages.”
“It was just as well.” Sabina sighed. “Neha wasn’t a joiner. She thought getting together, doing things with each other, was a waste of time.”
Meena kept quiet and sipped her drink. Part of her wanted to tell them that maybe they could have tried harder. Ask them if they’d noticed whether Neha wanted to be alone or was lonely. “I get the feeling that she spent a lot of time by herself.”
“That’s what she wanted,” Tanvi said.
“Sometimes people say that because that’s all they have.” Meena stared at the empty mugs in front of her. The hot chocolate sat warm in her belly, and she didn’t mind the aftertaste of vodka anymore. “Wow. These drinks are potent.”
“How are things between you and Sam?” Tanvi dipped a finger into her empty mug, scraped off the remaining whipped cream, and licked it.
Meena shook her head. “We’re friends. I like his dog.”
“And his handsome face,” Tanvi said.
“It’s not a bad match,” Uma added.
Meena finished the last of her drink. “Where to next?”
“To the Oak Long Bar.” Uma raised her arm and pumped her fist.
Tanvi linked arms with Meena as they walked down Dartmouth Street and crossed Boylston. The cool air cleared Meena’s head. She could see the wreaths being placed on the beautiful old building that housed the public library. Groups of tourists posed for photos on the steps next to the two sculptures—both of women, one holding a globe and the other a paintbrush and palette. Carved into the stone facade were the words FREE TO ALL.
She’d been inside a long time ago, on a sixth-grade class trip to Boston for the day. Sadly, she couldn’t remember any of the building’s history. Sam would know. If he were here, he’d narrate random facts in his deep voice that caused her stomach to flip over. Whoa. She caught herself. Where did that come from?
A frigid gust whipped around Meena as they approached the entrance to the Oak Long Bar.
Inside, the chandeliers, high ceilings, and large leather armchairs were all designed to make the wealthy feel comfortable. The hostess led them to their table, and Meena sank into a chair that belonged in a living room instead of a restaurant.
“There is an extra-cold, extra-dirty martini with my name on it.” Uma sat across from her. “If you’re looking for recommendations.”