“Is Ammi all right?” Hena asked as soon as she answered.
“She’s fine,” Lulu said. “Turns out the initial guess was right—severe dehydration. They’ve got her on a higher level of electrolytes, and she’s perking up. We’ll probably get the discharge paperwork in a little bit. She’ll be back in time for the mehndi.”
“I’m happy to help,” Hena offered. “Whatever you need, don’t hesitate.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I do need help. Not with the mehndi, though.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s simple, I promise. The men are on their deep-sea fishing excursion, but the charter bus for the women’s outing is set to leave at noon. It’s the Bartelo House.”
“What is this one?” Hena grabbed the wedding binder from the coffee table and paged through it. “I can’t keep track of all the events you’ve got going on.”
“How have you never heard of the Bartelo House?” Lulu exclaimed. “It’s that cute little boho chic place by the water where Mariela shares her visions.”
“So, she’s like a fortune teller?”
“Notlikea fortune teller, sheisa fortune teller. Mariela? She’s got three million followers on TikTok!” Lulu sounded personally offended. “She can read people’s fortunes without ever having met them. You choose the topic you want her to explore, and she takes it from there. It’s uncanny how good she is. She predicted I’d meet Khaled. She knew it down to the month. I told her to keep today’s fortunes strictly peppy and upbeat so everyone can leave in good spirits. They’ll have tea and sweets followed by the palm reading, and everyone gets to take their fortune home memorialized in a cute little typed-up scroll. It should be fun.”
“So…what’s the favor?”
“I need you to go.”
“Lulu—”
“We need a representative from the family,” she said. “Khala won’t leave Ammi’s bedside, and Ammi doesn’t want me to go. Besides, I have the power of attorney, so I should be close by. You know, in case.”
In case she had to use it. This really could be any day now, couldn’t it?
“Please, Hena?” Lulu pleaded on the other end of the line. “I promise it won’t be too painful.”
“Of course I’ll go,” Hena told her. She would take a quick catnap. She’d much rather crash for a few hours—her body was almost demanding it—but this was what family did. They showed up for each other.
“Thank you!” Lulu said. “Lean into the kitschy, okay? It’ll be fun.”
—
Lulu and Hena clearly had different definitions for what constituted kitschy.
The three-story moss-lined Bartelo House perched on the edge of a sleepy inlet was over-the-top extravagant. Banana, orange, and guava trees framed the lush grounds. Actual peacocks strutted across the lawns. Gentle instrumental music wafted in the background.
Servers in full livery carried trays of pastries and crystal glasses filled with something pink and fizzy. Courtney and a few aunties made affirmation bracelets at a high-top strewn with beads and crystals.
Irum was getting a tea sandwich when Hena joined her at the snack table.
“How’s your mom?” Irum asked.
“She should be getting discharged from the hospital any minute. Thanks for handling the mehndi stuff today.”
“It’s all set,” she said. “We’ll stay strictly on schedule. I’m making sure of it.”
“Thanks, Irum,” Hena told her.
Irum pressed her lips together. “The detective who came by last night. He was the same one from your wedding?” When Hena nodded, Irum’s expression grew clouded. “Was he here about Nasir?”
Things had been so chaotic since the detective had swung by, Hena hadn’t found the right time to bring it up. Of course Irum had questions. Of course she wanted to know. She deserved to know.
Hena told her what little relevant information Detective Milcheck had shared: The phone ping. That it had come from the Homestead area. That it may have been Nasir’s phone. Maybe.