The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,52
she needed more tests or special care, he’d rather know sooner than later.
“You’ve lost weight since I’ve been away.”
“Nonsense,” she said, waving away his concern. “Now tell me about this woman you were so distracted by. What was her name? Harper?” Her nose crinkled. “What kind of name is that?”
Of course Izzy would deflect. It was her way. He’d do better by answering her questions, then circling back to the subject of her health.
“I like Harper. We had a good time together.”
“But now you’re home.” She dusted off her hands. “Time to put your vacation romance behind you and find someone more suitable—”
“Izzy, I’ve appreciated you not interfering in my life over the years. I always thought I was lucky being Anglo-Indian, so you weren’t as relentless as the Indian aunties who make matchmaking a national pastime. So why the sudden obsession with finding me someone suitable?”
He made air quotes around the last two words and she frowned, making disapproving clucking noises under her breath.
“Because I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“I saw this Harper woman at the wedding. She’s not for you.”
“Why?”
It may be cruel getting her to spell it out, but he was lulling her into a false sense of security before getting back to the subject at hand: her health.
“She’s Australian, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you said she styles food?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where is the common ground? Where are the shared interests?” She flung her arms in the air dramatically. “Where is the real connection? Culturally, you’ll have little in common—”
“Izzy, I’ve been raised in Australia. I’m Australian.”
“But your heritage is Anglo-Indian, and we’re a dying race. It is better for you to procreate with someone of your own—”
“Whoa, who said anything about having kids?”
“You would make a wonderful father.” Izzy’s lips compressed into a thin line. “You are forty; it is time you started considering a younger wife, someone to have children.”
Knowing it would antagonize Izzy but unable to resist, he said, “Harper’s only thirty.”
“Again with this Harper.” She waggled her finger at him. “Women who indulge in flings don’t make good wife material.”
Manny didn’t want to get into an argument regarding something that would never happen. He didn’t want to marry, but that didn’t mean he had to sit here and listen to Harper being disparaged when he happened to think she was pretty damn fantastic.
“Do you have any idea why you’ve lost weight? Because I think you were avoiding answering me earlier.”
Izzy froze, her startled eyes flying to his, before she heaved a hefty sigh. “I have noticed. And I’ve been to my doctor, who ordered tests.”
Izzy had gone to the doctor voluntarily? For as long as he remembered he’d had to badger her into getting an annual physical, let alone a doctor’s visit if she was feeling unwell. She didn’t believe in medication for colds, preferring the old-fashioned remedies of salt water gargles and drinking copious amounts of rasam or steeped ginger and turmeric.
Her visit to the local doctor, who she referred to as “that quack” on a good day, made him worry even more.
“What tests?”
“Comprehensive blood tests, and you’ll be the first to know if they show anything other than I’m over-the-hill, but let’s get back to this Harper woman.”
“Izzy, I’m not going to discuss her with you, other than to say she’s the first woman in a long time to spark my interest beyond a date.”
Izzy’s eyebrows rose so high her forehead wrinkled in a plethora of creases.
“I want to meet her.”
“No.”
“Why not? Are you ashamed of her?”
“Of course not, it’s just that we’ve got busy schedules, so I’m not sure when I’m going to see her next.”
Utter crap, because he had every intention of contacting the gorgeous Harper soon.
Izzy’s head pitched to one side in a classic gesture he’d seen many times growing up. She’d never capitulate no matter how many times he gave her the brush-off.
“Rest assured, my boy, if she’s as special as you say she is, I will meet her. And soon.”
39
The last thing Harper felt like doing after landing back in Melbourne was visiting her mom, but Lydia had left a message for her while she’d been in flight, and Harper didn’t like the way she’d sounded.
Her poised mother rarely made demands, so the urgency in her tone imploring Harper to visit ASAP meant when the taxi dropped her home she dumped her suitcase inside, grabbed her car keys, and headed for the house she’d grown up in, in Glen Waverley. She only lived a few suburbs over, in leafy Ashwood,