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37 Priya helped her mother scoop the rest of the gulabjamun out of the
pan. They worked quietly and easily, dabbing the extra oil from the golden
balls before dropping them gently into the syrup. When they were done,
Priya admired the rich, glowing batch of sweets they had made. She thought
how much Ama would have liked them. Then she took a deep breath.

38 “Maybe I could take these to school tomorrow, to share with my class,”
she said at last.

39 Priya’s mother cocked her head lightly from side to side, the Indian way
of saying O.K. It was a casual gesture, but Priya saw her mother smiling
behind her dark curtain of hair. Their eyes met, and Priya smiled back.
They never needed many words, Mummy and she.

40 As she stretched a thin sheet of plastic wrap over the bowl of gulabjamun,
Priya wondered if Lindsay had beautiful things from her country hidden in a
velvet pouch in her drawer. Maybe tomorrow she would ask.

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