Us Against the World

19. Meet the Argon Family

I'm still floating on cloud nine when Aceline drops me home later that day, promising to come to pick me up again for a girl's day out soon. I'm a little sad when she leaves, I'll admit, because Aceline filled the gap that Riya had left when she returned to India. Of course, I still had a spot open for my favorite, annoying cousin, but Aceline has become a person that I can rely on and trust...it also helps that she's my date's sister and knows more about him than anyone else.

Evening is falling by the time we return home. The canvas of pink and blue swirls above me as I stand in the cool, refreshing air of the cramped street that I call home. Craning my head, I stare up at the stale brown, brick building with a broken, flashing sign that I live in, trying to see if I can spot my apartment window.

"That's a smile that I haven't seen in a while," the bell boy tells me when I walk into the foyer of the apartment lobby, having given up my task of finding my room. He smiles at me. "Have a good day?"

"Well, I got a job," I grin. "So I suppose that counts for a good day, doesn't it?"

"Congratulations!" He says. "That certainly does sound like a good day." He pauses, as if a distant memory is returning to him. "Oh, perhaps I have something that will make it better for you?"

"You do?"

The boy retreats from the desk and into the room beside him, leaving me waiting in anticipation. I tap my fingers on my elbow as I wait for him, rummaging through the possible gifts that have been left for me in my absence. What could they be? Medical bills? Rent? Mausa's hospital report that Riya and I are splitting? Another reprimanding note for Chandini? The possibilities are endless, and none of them are encouraging.

"Here we are!" The boy returns with a small bouquet of flowers and a fancy notecard. He hands them to me, then plops a small velvet box atop one of the flowers. "These were left for you earlier."

"Really?" My gaze sweeps over the gifts. My heart thrums at an unsteady rate, trying to comprehend the generosity and identity of this mysterious gift-giver. "Did they leave a name?"

"Nope," the boy says. "But I'm sure it's in the letter. The man who left it specifically said that you should read the letter before opening the box, but," he shrugs. "I can't force you to. I'm just the messenger boy."

"Hm..." I'm trying not to let my girlish excitement show on my face. It's a humiliating emotion that will forever change this bellboy's image of me. "Can you at least tell me what the man looked like?"

"Not specifically," he replies. "I didn't pay attention to his face. He looked older, though. Dark-haired too. He was a bit bulky, but not like a bodybuilder. Oh, he was also wearing a suit."

Marcello! His name pops into my mind almost instantly. Ezra by no means looks as old as he is, and Marcello was initially the same way, but after learning his age, it seems like the version that I see of him has digressed to that of an older man. Besides, he's the only other rich guy I know apart from Ezra. I won't count Felix, because he didn't seem very interested in me.

"Thank you," I say finally, giving the bellboy a few coins and retreating into the stuffy elevator, spamming the "close door" button so that I have the tiny compartment to myself and not a sweaty or drunk companion.

Chandini doesn't seem to be home when I announce my presence at the doorway. Either that, or she's holed up in her room with her headphones on, blasting whatever rubbish music she listens to.

Carefully, I quickly make my way to the kitchen counter and try not to trip as I do so. All the walking that I've done with Aceline today has worn out my legs and they wobble dangerously. The kitchen stool scrapes unflatteringly with my pull and I sit down with a relieved sigh. Bringing the flowers to my nose, I briefly inhale the sweet scent that it emanates and then put it in a nearby mug, making a mental note to change the cup for a vase later. Then, I take the envelope and place the box in front of me. My toes tingle eagerly.