Shayne grinned. “It’s perfect. Set it up, Reena.”

Reena immediately called Amira, who promptly agreed to call the Galahads and get back to them. They didn’t have to wait long. Her phone rang a scant ten minutes later with enthusiastic affirmatives that they could borrow the farm on Saturday, a list of the vegetables in season, and a warm offer to use whatever they needed.

“Not sure any of these will work,” Reena said, looking over the list she had jotted down: potatoes, carrots, beets, and acorn squash. We already did a vegetable curry and potato bhajias.”

Shayne let out an excited squeal. “Potatoes! Finally! Curried shepherd’s pie!”

Reena cringed. “No fusion. We’re not colonizing our food.” She bit her lip as she racked her mind for a home-style Indian recipe that showcased these ingredients.

“Wait,” Nadim said, “didn’t you say they had eggs and goat milk, too?”

“Yes. Goats and chickens are the only animals they keep.”

He smiled. “My mother came from Zanzibar. After she died, my father used to send me by ferry from Dar es Salaam to spend weeks with her mother, my nani. He said he didn’t want me losing touch with that side of the family. Nani used to make this dish all the time—a curry with hard-boiled eggs, potatoes, and local spices. It’s a Zanzibar specialty. I’ve only ever had it there, and it totally reminds me of home.” He glanced at Reena, a wistful look in his eyes. “I remember Zanzibar always smelling like spices—it’s one of the island’s biggest exports. Anyway, Nani died when I was twelve, and I’ve barely been back there since, but … ” He turned away, exhaling. “I’m sure egg curry would be spectacular with farm-fresh eggs and local potatoes.”

Reena watched him. The modest space that had been between them on the sofa had dissolved as his leg now pressed against hers. His face had slackened as he talked about his grandmother. Reena had never been to Zanzibar, but visiting the island off the coast of her parents’ hometown was on her bucket list. Pictures of spectacular sunsets over the Indian Ocean and the breathtaking old Arab architecture in Stone Town had called to her, but the way Nadim talked about Zanzibar was not someone talking about a cherished vacation spot. He was talking about home, a place with bittersweet memories and a deep sensation of belonging there.

Nadim suddenly took her hand and squeezed. Reena looked at him, wondering if her eyes betrayed the uncertainty she felt. After another squeeze, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“We should go,” Marley said, standing. “We’re all set for Saturday. I’ll find something agrarian-chic for you two to wear. Let me know if you have any ideas.”

Immediately after Shayne and Marley were out the door, Nadim pulled Reena back on his lap and started kissing her neck. If he kept doing things like this, she would never be able to finish a thought about this “relationship,” or about her place in his life.