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My jaw dropped. Her mom had been talking about arranged marriage since my friend was old enough to dress her Bride Barbie in a red silk sari. I’d never thought Westernized Amarjeet would go for it.
“Oh my God,” Kimberly said, “it’s so Dark Ages.”
“Not in India,” Amarjeet responded.
“You aren’t in India,” I said. “You were born in Vancouver, Canada. Not two miles from where we’re sitting.” The three of us had attended the same elementary school, where we’d become best friends forever long before anyone had invented that term.
“Indian families care more about tradition,” Amarjeet said softly. “You know my parents. You’ve been to my sister’s wedding here, and heard me talk about my brother’s in India.”
I nodded. “Not to mention all those cousins. Seems to me, every few months someone in your family is getting married.”
“And a lot of them are arranged.”
“But you’ve always resisted,” I said, as Kimberly said, “It’s archaic.”
Amarjeet raised her shoulders, smooth and brown against the Kelly green top she was wearing, and rotated them as if to ease out tightness. “Dating hasn’t worked. Perhaps too much choice is a bad thing. I’ve wasted time. I want to get married and start a family.”
“I’m impatient too,” I admitted. Good friends and a great job were all very well, but I’d always dreamed of a husband and children. It was time.
“So,” Amarjeet said, “you and Triple-F want the same thing.”
“True.” But how to achieve it? Jokingly, I asked, “Are you suggesting we get your mom to arrange me a marriage too?”
Amarjeet’s eyes sparkled with humor. “She would so love to do that.”
“So would your granny, Jade.” Kimberly bowed her head and spoke in a dreadful Chinese accent. “Me, ancient Chinese grandmother, say sweet innocent granddaughter marry nice respectable Chinese boy.”
The three of us laughed. Yes, my mom’s mother had a slight accent, but she’d been in Canada since, at 18, she married a Chinese-Canadian—in an arranged marriage. She was fluent in English, had obtained a degree in fine arts in her 40s, and now, in her mid-70s, was stylish, attractive, and anything but “ancient.” The sentiments Kimberly had expressed were, however, bang on. Granny had grown to love my black Québécois papa, but she’d never quite forgiven Mom for not marrying a Chinese man. She hoped I would make up for my mom’s disobedient behavior.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s agree my goal—for personal and work reasons—is to find Prince Charming and get married. Leaving aside arranged marriage, what’s my best strategy?”
“Meet lots of men,” Kimberly said promptly.
“I have. I’ve wasted years dating frogs.”
“Hone your frog detector,” Kimberly said, “so you don’t waste time.”
I nibbled on crab tempura. “How about this? I’ll date like crazy—even let Granny fix me up—and on the first date I’ll decide whether the guy has Prince Charming potential.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Kimberly asked.
“He’s a write-off. On to the next guy.”
“It’s not a bad plan,” Amarjeet said. “But it could take time to find the right man. What about the job promotion?”
Our conversation had helped me realize my problem. In my dating life, I had lacked the focus I brought to my work. I’d hang out with an okay guy for months, knowing we had no future. Now I had a plan and a goal, actually two goals: marriage and promotion. I was highly motivated—I’d be realizing two dreams—and when I was motivated, I could achieve great results. “I’ll go on lots of dates. I’ll go on a date every night. If I apply myself, how long can it take?”
“Months,” Amarjeet said, “or longer. If your granny arranged a marriage, you could have a fiancé in a week. I’m sure she has men in mind.”
“No, I believe in free choice.” That was how my parents, who’d married against both their families’ wishes, had raised me. And look at how solid and loving their relationship was.
“I have a better idea.” Kimberly’s blue eyes sparkled as brightly as her ring. “Have you seen the posters for ‘It’s Raining Men’?”
“The bachelor auction?” What woman could ignore the posters featuring hot guys in everything from bathing suits to tuxes, all holding umbrellas? “The one that benefits the new children’s wing at the hospital? What does that have to do with my problem?”
“You could buy a faux fiancé. The children’s wing is a great cause, right up your alley. Bid on an amazing guy, tell him to pretend you’re engaged, and trot him around to the office.”
“Deceive them? I can’t.”
“Why not?” She stuck out her chin. “They’re all set to break the law by discriminating in favor of image-perfect Candace.”
“They might not. I could still get the job.”
“Even the playing field a little. Candace has the Hallmark card family. Get yourself a cute, successful, devoted fiancé.”
“Hmm.” I glanced at Amarjeet. “What do you think?”
She frowned into her drink. “Deception is a bad thing. But you do intend to get married and have a plan for finding a husband.” She glanced up. “Wait. How could you date if you tell Triple-F you’re engaged?”
“Good question. Uh…First dates will be casual, just coffee or lunch. When a guy makes it to a second date, we’ll find activities that aren’t too public.”
“Way to go!” Kimberly winked.
I giggled. “Dirty mind.” Though the idea of sex was tantalizing. I’d gone months without.
“But,” Amarjeet said, “what happens to the faux fiancé after Triple-F announces the new CEO? Or if you find a serious boyfriend before then?”
“Um…”
Kimberly tossed her curls. “You tell Triple-F the jerk fiancé dumped you, and they’ll be sympathetic.” With her chopsticks, she picked up the last piece of salmon sashimi and dunked it in dipping sauce.
I liked the people at the Families First Foundation, and I had a rep for being honest and straightforward. No one would doubt me if I said I was engaged, which in a way made it even scummier to lie. But I really, really wanted that job. I’d make a better CEO than Candace, and if she got the job, she’d dig in for years and years of unimaginative leadership.
Damn it, the position should be awarded on merits, not marriage.
I took a deep breath, then hoisted my martini glass. “Okay, ladies, we’re going to a bachelor auction!”
2
From: Jade Rousseau [[email protected]]
To: ‘Amarjeet Nagra’; ‘Kimberly Brock’
Subject: Write-off: Brian’s cousin Peter
How shallow am I to be repelled by a potbelly? I’m not saying a guy has to be gorgeous, but how about at least moderately fit??? It’s not just about looks, it’s about health. (See, I’m not REALLY that shallow <g>.) No 2nd date for Peter. (Kimberly, I know he’s your future cousin-in-law. He’s nice, just a couch potato.)
Frog detector