“Aunty Josephina, Aunty Rajini, hello. Aunty Preeni, my, look at your haircut. I see you’ll haven’t started your meeting yet. Has my mother kept you’ll waiting by being fashionably late again?” She went over to the ladies, who were suddenly trying to look like they couldn’t care less about Mrs. Fonseka’s outburst, and she pressed each of her cheeks against theirs in turn.

“I hope Amma didn’t alarm you’ll. This is what happens when we work on our invitation lists separately. And if you ask me,” she said in a mock whisper, “I think all this wedding stress is getting to her even more than it is to me.” She gave a charming little laugh and the aunties laughed along with her. How was she so at ease with them? She was like a magical piece of pink ribbon that wove her way through the fiercest current—floating along, bending and moving with the tide, never appearing to be anything but smooth and elegant and totally in control. I’ve missed her.

One of them gave me a quizzical look, and Kaavi beckoned me over.

“You must remember my friend Amaya, don’t you, Aunty Josephina? We were in school together. And university, too, in the US.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Amaya. Sarita’s daughter, no? You look just like her. Fairer, of course. Lucky you. I suppose you get that from your father’s side.”

“Y-yes. Hello, Aunty. How are you?” I had no idea who Aunty Josephina was, and I doubt my mother would have known her, either, but this was Colombo, where in the ’80s, a private school–educated Sinhala Buddhist girl didn’t run away from home and marry an Englishman against her parents’ consent without word getting around.

“Nice to see you, darling. You’re looking well,” one of the other aunties said, clawing for some attention herself. The way she said it made me feel anything but.

“I have to go get ready now. Aunty Preeni, Aunty Rajini, you will excuse me, won’t you? I have a jacket fitting with Andre soon.”

The aunties oohed and aahed as was befitting the mention of Andre’s name.

“I suppose you are here to accompany Kaavi to her fit-on, then?” one of the aunties asked me.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond, and Kaavi had already managed to extract herself as gracefully as possible and was on her way up the stairs.

“Go on. I’m sure you young ones have plenty to catch up on.”

Aunty Josephina flapped out her arms and turned her face toward me, inviting me for a Sri Lankan cheek kiss as well, which I awkwardly obliged with all the aunties, since to kiss just one would be terribly insulting to the others.

“We’ll see you soon, no doubt,” she said. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

I was just turning around when I heard one of the aunties whisper—

“Is that the girl . . . ?”

“Shh!” She was silenced by Aunty Josephina, who didn’t let her smile slip.