But in the end, Paige had broken what little heart I had, and Kahu had stuck around. He was the one who’d called even though he was pissed off at me, while she kept a cold silence. Paige really could hold her grudges.

I was about to walk through my father’s front door by the time my phone buzzed again. Shifting direction, I sat down in one of the comfortable outdoor chairs on the front patio and said, “Hey.”

“You’re a definite ass. Some lines you don’t cross.”

“At least you know not to waste time on her.”

“I’m giving you the finger.” No anger in his voice.

“You didn’t come see me in hospital.” Since it was becoming clear that I couldn’t remember much of my hospital stay, I didn’t know that for certain, but it sounded like something Kahu would do in a snit.

“I sent you a fucking fruit basket. Knew you weren’t dying.”

Laughter broke out of me. “Jesus. You were really mad, huh? A fucking fruit basket?”

He chuckled. “I thought about going full passive-aggressive and ordering one of those wanker ‘wellness’ kits, but you did just get out of an induced coma, so . . .”

We both laughed, and the barrier of anger fell. Just like that. That’s what Paige had never understood about my friendship with Kahu. We might be dicks to each other, and Kahu might be a bit backhanded in his compliments, but in the end, we knew no other friend would put up with our shit, so we kept the dick behavior to a certain level.

That’s why he’d been so angry about Daisy.

We spoke for a while, about his new girlfriend, about writing, and about everything but my mother’s bones. Kahu and I, we didn’t do deep and meaningful. The closest he’d ever come to that was to say, “Paige, she actually likes you. You got lucky. Hold on to her.”

My failure at doing that wasn’t a subject we ever discussed.

All the while, as I listened to Kahu, responded, I watched the golden rectangle of Grandma Elei’s window.

27

After hanging up, I found Shanti. She was in the kitchen, overseeing the maid who came in three times a week to help with cooking and kitchen cleanup. We didn’t have live-in staff because my father didn’t want to give off an air of ostentatious wealth that might be used against the mayor.

My father’s friendship with the leader of the city had smoothed out a lot of bumps in the road when it came to his company, and he was protective of that friendship in a mercenary kind of way. However, neither did he want his rich friends judging him for being cheap with his wife. So we had external contractors who came in to clean once a week, then three nights with a single kitchen helper.

Shanti didn’t actually need help in the kitchen, but she put up with it because it was what my father wanted.

“I put aside a plate for you,” she said now, her smile bright.

Realizing I was hungry—and because food was the way to Shanti’s heart—I sat down and ate. The maid, Lovey, was a small, slender Filipino woman with a shy smile who worked for Mary’s company. Lovey, Mary, and two others were the only ones authorized to work in our home.

My father wouldn’t permit any substitutions unless it was to be permanent, and Mary provided a full criminal background check. I agreed with him there. These people were often in the house and around Pari. We had to know they were safe.

Twenty years my senior, Lovey had been part of the house team since Shanti became my father’s bride. She gave me a maternal smile. When I asked for a Coke after Shanti stepped out for a minute, Lovey got it, then said, “It’s a bad habit, Aarav.” Her voice still held a faint accent, and though it was a different one from my mother’s, it had always made me feel comfortable around her.

“I know,” I said, and we smiled conspiratorially.

She shook her head. “I stocked your snack drawer.”

“Thanks.” Unlike at my apartment, I didn’t lock anything here when I went out. It’d be more suspicious if I did. If there was something I wanted to hide, I put it in the closet—everyone knew not to bother going in that pit of mess. “I need to ask Diana for more fudge.” There was something about those sweets, perhaps the taste of childhood.

I’d already emptied the bag Shanti had gotten a couple of days earlier.

Maybe I should mention my candy addiction to Dr. Jitrnicka. No point saving my liver if I was determined to turn my blood to sugar. It made me think of my mother. Not just the drinking, but all the diamonds she’d hoarded, a dragon with her treasure.

Could you inherit an addictive personality?

“Calvin dropped off a jumbo bag today, before you got back.” Lovey’s voice shattered the diamonds into shards. “He was heading off for a run, but he said Diana knew how much you loved her candies and wanted to make sure you had some. Mrs. Rai doesn’t know I already put it in your room.”

“You’re the best, Lovey.” I’d have to make sure I thanked Diana, too—it was a small thing, but it mattered that she’d cared enough to do it.

Seeing that I’d cleared my plate, Lovey said, “Eat some fruit instead of just sweets.”

She returned to work the instant Shanti came back into the kitchen. There was no chitchat between them, my father’s wife very conscious of class lines. As if her own past as a maid would return to haunt her if she became friendly with the staff.

Only once Lovey was done and had left for the night did I say, “Shanti, you talk to Alice’s mother, don’t you?”

Shanti’s eyelashes flickered, her smile fading, but she nodded. “Why?”

“I just wanted to ask her if she saw anything the night my mother disappeared.” No reason to lie on this point. People felt sorry for me right now and I was fully capable of taking advantage of that.