The Art of Purring (The Dalai Lama's Cat 2)

“There are many premises available around here.”

“I don’t know, Sid. As it is we’re starting to run into supply problems.”

“With the spices?”

“The Dharamsala markets are fine for medium-size quantities. But we need guaranteed continuity of the best-quality spices in larger amounts.”

“That,” Sid told her emphatically, “is something I can easily arrange.”

“How?”

“Through my business. We have access to producers across the region.”

“I thought you were in IT,” she said, her bewilderment deepening.

He nodded. “Among other things. Issues like fair trade in organic spices—these are very important to our community and important to me.”

During the postyoga conversations on Ludo’s balcony, Sid often referred to our community. This was something, Serena began to realize, that stemmed from a deeply held personal concern. But his mention of organic rang alarm bells. “What about pricing?”

“We would be buying direct. The cost would probably be less than what you pay in the market.”

He had said we, she noticed, sipping her coffee. She set down her cup and placed her hand on the table. “Even if I were to, you know, set up a separate business, the only reason spice packs have taken off is because of the Himalaya Book Café.”

Sid smiled, his eyes glowing with affection. He reached out and briefly rested his hand on hers. “Serena, the Himalaya Book Café was the reason you came up with the idea. But a successful business model doesn’t depend on it. The two are entirely separate.”

As Serena looked at him, the truth of what he was saying dawned on her. Of course the reason why people kept reordering spice packs wasn’t because of the Himalaya Book Café but rather because of taste, convenience, and price. But more important to her at this moment was the truth of why he was saying it. Sid had evidently given a great deal of thought to her and the challenges she faced—much more than she would have thought likely even a day ago.

As Serena considered this, other things were swiftly flashing through her mind. Like how often Sid sat next to her on the balcony after yoga class. How delighted he had been when she announced her intention to stay in McLeod Ganj instead of returning to Europe. How concerned he had been when she mentioned that Franc had lost his father. All of this was pointing in the same direction.

Just as Sam had remained oblivious to Bronnie until she was standing across the counter from him shaking his hand, for the first time Serena actually noticed Sid. He might have been there all along, but only now was she beginning to understand—and smiling at the realization.

“What about marketing?” she questioned, somewhat distracted. “The customer database belongs to the Himalaya Book Café.”

“Franc seems to be a reasonable man,” said Sid. “Even if he didn’t want to continue the spice-pack business, there would be no conflict if he referred business to you, perhaps for a royalty.”

She nodded. “That would be fine as supplementary income. But if I were to go out on my own …”

“You’d need much wider distribution, ideally overseas. And there is someone who can probably help you.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve already met him.”

That line again. “Here?”

“I don’t remember his name, but you mentioned that he was one of the most successful businessmen in the fast-food industry.”

Gordon Finlay, thought Serena. “Wow!” she said aloud. “If he opened the door to just one retail chain …” She was shaking her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of him.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to see these things from afar.”

For the longest time they held each other’s gaze.

“This is … amazing!” Serena said eventually. This time it was she who reached across the table, taking his hand between hers. “Thank you, Sid, for everything.”

He nodded deeply, smiling.

“Do you have a business card or something?” Serena asked. “In case we need to talk more?”