in these photographs, they’d done way more, with way less. They’d built the nation. She could build her own life.
A chubby woman in soft black pants and a denim shirt hustled into the room. “There you are. Andrés, are you boring this poor young woman?” She was in her mid-sixties, and had a slight Indian accent and crinkles around her eyes when she smiled. Despite her casual farm wear, three gold bangles clanked on her wrist.
“She wanted to see the family history,” Andrés said gruffly, but his eyes were kind as they rested on the woman. “This is my housekeeper, Daisy.”
“Katrina, what a pleasure to finally meet you. Jasvinder speaks of you so highly.” Daisy took Katrina’s hands. “Would you like a hug?”
That the older woman would ask made Katrina want one more. “Oh yes.” She stepped into the woman’s arms. Something constricted in her chest as Daisy pulled her in tight.
It was so . . . grandmotherly.
She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, trying not to be a weirdo. Rhiannon’s mom mothered her, or tried to, but she had no one in her life akin to grandparents. Not even her real grandparents.
Katrina stepped back, lest she linger in that comforting embrace too long. “I did want to see the family history,” she confirmed.
“Well, Andrés can chatter at you about that later,” Daisy said firmly. “Jas tells me you like to cook. Would you like to come help me in the kitchen?”
Ah. Jas had sent Daisy to rescue her, probably not realizing that she was enjoying this impromptu story time. “I would love to.”
“Good. I sent Jas down to the chicken coop to get some eggs. I want to make a cake.”
Andrés snorted as he followed them out. “The boy may cry if he gets his shoes dirty.”
“Don’t you make fun of Jasvinder, I see you polishing your shoes at night,” Daisy said archly to her boss. “Jas grew up gathering eggs, it’s a skill you never quite lose. Thank you for bringing that cobbler over, Katrina. It smells delicious. Jasvinder couldn’t stop telling me about what an excellent chef you are.” Her dark gaze was smiling but speculative, and Katrina wasn’t entirely sure what she was speculating about.
“Oh no. I’m not a chef. I just like to cook for people.”
“A chef is anyone who cooks,” Daisy said. “We serve langar at the Gurdwara, a free meal for anyone who wishes it. That’s what I tell all the sweet young people who volunteer to help cook, that they are all chefs.”
Providing a meal to nourish anyone who needed it? Sounded like Katrina’s dream. “That’s fantastic. I like that.”
“It is, isn’t it? Come now. It’s time for something other than these stuffy history lessons.”
“Excuse me,” Andrés huffed behind them. “I can hear you.”
Daisy patted Katrina’s hand but spoke to her employer. “I know.”
JAS’S GAZE KEPT slipping to Katrina. She was too quiet, but her eyes were alert. He wished he’d been seated next to her, but Andrés had helped her to the chair closest to him.
“Pass me the salt?”
Jas handed his brother the saltshaker. Bikram had joined them for dinner, which Jas had learned was a nightly thing. His brother’s skin glowed with health, and his body was relaxed. He and their grandfather had spent most of the meal so far chatting easily about the day’s work. They were so alike in their pleasure in this place, so in sync, one would never realize that they weren’t related by blood.
Andrés leaned back and gave Jas a narrow look. Jas braced himself. He didn’t think Andrés would start anything with Katrina at the table, but he’d learned long ago never to count on his grandfather doing the expected. “I showed Katrina the family photos in the living room. She enjoyed seeing them all.”
“She liked them, or you lectured her until she was bored into a stupor?” Bikram teased.
If Jas had teased his grandfather like that, he would have gotten a snarl, but Andrés only rolled his eyes at his step-grandson.
Katrina smiled. “I did enjoy it. I don’t have anything like that documenting my family.”
Daisy helped herself to more potatoes. She’d worked for the family for almost twenty years and had always eaten with them. “No photos, no records?”
Katrina shook her head. “No. I was an only child and my mom died when I was nine. I don’t know my extended family on her side.”
“And your father?”
Jas cleared his throat and tried to catch the housekeeper’s eye. This was smacking of a