Jas checked his watch. Noon, so it made sense his brother would be grabbing lunch at the restaurant in the little strip mall. It was a staple in the small community, so he’d undoubtedly run into someone he knew.
If Bikram was there, he could deflect that fifth horseman. Jas spoke to Doodle. “If the same couple still owns that place, they’ll let you come in.” He kept his distance from dogs, but he knew keeping them in a locked car wasn’t a good idea.
The same couple did own it, the aunty at the register nodding and smiling at him when he walked in like he hadn’t been gone for almost two decades. Sure enough, she didn’t bat an eye at his dog. Jas inhaled deeply, the scent of curry and spices filling his nostrils. It took a second for his eyes to readjust to the darker indoor lighting, but then he caught sight of his brother sitting at a corner table in the not-so-crowded dining room.
Bikram did bat an eye at the dog that padded along at his side. “Holy shit, what is that, a hellhound?”
Jas looked down at Doodle, resisting the urge to cover her ears. The guys at the nearby tables gave the dog nervous looks. “She’s the dog I asked you about.” Jas sat in the chair across from his brother and brought Doodle in close to his leg. She barely fit under the table.
“She looked smaller in the pic. She likes you?”
Jas tried not to take offense at Bikram’s incredulous tone. He was not an animal whisperer. The opposite, in fact, if that was a thing. “She seems to tolerate me.”
“Weird.” Bikram tore off a piece of naan and dipped it in the saag on his plate.
The owner appeared at Jas’s elbow with a plate full of food. “Your hands looked full, so I got you a little of everything from the buffet,” she said in her quiet voice.
“Thank you, aunty.” He took the plate from her and placed it in front of him. He wasn’t hungry, but he figured he’d make an effort to eat with his brother.
“How have you been?” she asked.
He braced himself. “Well.”
“Good. Give my love to your mother.”
Okay, that had been a lot less painful than he’d thought it would be. Jas turned back to his brother. “Have you heard anything about Doodle?”
“Doodle, huh?” Bikram shrugged. “I’ve asked around. So far, none of our closest neighbors are missing a dog.”
Relief ran through him. It wasn’t definitive, but he’d like for Katrina to be able to keep Doodle. “Good.”
Bikram glanced under the table. “She looks pretty scrawny. Couple of people haven’t called me back yet, but she’s most likely a stray.”
“Probably.” He accepted the basket of naan Bikram passed across the table. “What are you up to today?”
“It’s slow. Figured I’d take advantage of that and run some errands I’ve been putting off since summer.”
Jas nodded. He hadn’t been here through a harvest season in a while, but he remembered how much work that was, how they’d all pitched in. Even his grandmother had been out in the orchard every year, grading the peaches to determine which ones were fit for selling. “Smart.”
“How’s everything going at the little house?” Bikram indicated the dog with a wave. “Animal surprises aside.”
“Pretty good.” He hesitated, the worry niggling at the back of his mind. Bikram didn’t sound annoyed right this minute, but he knew his brother. If they didn’t resolve whatever was bugging him, it would crop up again and again. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“Are you resentful of Katrina because you think she’s the reason I don’t spend much time here?”
Bikram chewed his bite of food and maintained eye contact with him. He swallowed and spoke. “Duh.”
Jas squinted at him.
“I mean, I said as much, didn’t I?”
“It’s not Katrina’s fault I live down south.” He hesitated, unsure how to broach this particular uncomfortable subject. “If you’re upset about the farm, Bikram . . .”
“It’s not that.” Bikram’s nose flared. “You’re the heir. I get it.”
Jas leaned forward. “You know I don’t want it.”
Bikram’s smile was sardonic. “Doesn’t matter. You know Grandpa. Blood is thicker than water, blood above all.” He took a sip of water. “I’m not blood.”
“Bikram—”
“It’s not about the farm, and this isn’t about living a few hours away.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about the fact that you barely know my fiancé. I’m marrying someone, Jas, and you haven’t shown the slightest bit of interest!” Bikram sat back and glared at him. “Now, I get that you’re busy with your job, but you didn’t even stay overnight at our engagement party. You had to run back that night, you said, because Katrina needed you. This is the longest I’ve seen you in years, and we live in the same damn state.”
Jas thought back to last month and the engagement party. No. That couldn’t be right, right?
Only that was what had happened. He’d attended the party, toasted the couple, and left about ten minutes after the first person had gone home.
He may have used work as his excuse. He didn’t remember now.
It was like Bikram had opened a spigot and couldn’t stop. His brother thumped his fist on the table, making the plates rattle. “You’ve barely met Hasan. He could be a serial killer.”
Jas drew back. “Is he a serial killer?”
“No! But you don’t know that! You should be vetting my boyfriend. You should be telling us we’re too young and haven’t known each other long enough. That’s what a big brother does.”
Jas took a bite of food, if only to have a moment to think while he chewed. “Ask me something.”
“What?”
“About Hasan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, what do you want to know about him? Where he went to grade school? His MCAT score? His parents’ favorite vacation spot?” Jas leaned forward. “This is my job. If you think I would ever let you marry someone without finding every crumb of information I could about them, you are mistaken.”
Bikram slowly nodded, and there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. “Why don’t you stick around when you visit? You always say it’s work. If it’s not, then why?”
Jas opened his mouth and then closed it again, his heart wrenching in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to say to that.
He wished Katrina were here. She was empathetic and adept at soothing hurt feelings, counseling people through roadblocks, and he was not.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Jas looked up. “Maybe . . .” he said, and cleared his throat, though the hoarseness remained. “Maybe you and Hasan can come down some weekend and I can get to know him better.” He tried for a smile. “My search didn’t turn up any serial killer tendencies, but it doesn’t hurt to double-check.”
Bikram eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. That would be nice.” And he meant that. “Also, actually, I do think you’re too young to get married.”