Chapter 6- Dinner

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Chapter 6- Dinner

 “Cora, hey!” Sami held out her arms joyfully and embraced me at the door. When we released I glanced around the hall.

 It was so beautifully decorated. Varnished oak coated the floors, part of it concealed by a long, Persian rug that extended from the front door up to the impressive staircase. A calm, blue pastel colour donned the walls, bringing out the gold in the scattered ornaments placed meticulously about the place.

 There was a very old-looking collection of small, faded, porcelain figurines and a pretty silver tea-set on an extravagant, detailed cabinet with old-fashioned handles to my right. I couldn’t guess the age but it looked like it was getting on a century or two. An expensive-looking mirror hung above it, another matching one faced it on the opposite wall, pinning me in the line of reflection. I habitually avoided them both.

 I felt like I’d entered a palace camouflaged by a traditional, Canadian exterior. It took me aback with surprise. It was much bigger than their old house that was for sure.

 Sami snickered at my expression. “My Mom went a bit overkill on the grandeur,” she mocked, as she impersonated her mother’s voice.

 I grinned and then forced my lips back over my teeth.

 I heard a clicking of heels as a woman who looked very much like Sami, approached us in welcome. I hadn’t seen Mrs Nasrani about as long as Zak but she hadn’t changed a bit. Her hair had grown out of the short bob down past her shoulders and it was a few shades lighter, almost blonde. It suited her. I noticed both she and Sami had styled their hair nicely.

 Sami had straightened her black curls that I know must have taken a couple of hours to do and had squeezed her curvy hips into some black jeans, her creamy turtleneck accentuated her plump bosoms and as she turned to me I saw gold hoops jingling from her tanned earlobes.

 Her mother was wearing dangling pearl earrings with a matching necklace and bright red lipstick accentuated her full, plump lips. Her long black skirt swayed as she moved. She pulled the sleeves down of her cashmere, lilac cardigan before wrapping her arms around me in an embrace.

 I felt completely under-dressed in my questionably-clean dark pants, chunky sweater and disheveled hair hanging at my waist. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.

 “Welcome Cora.” She grinned, with a soft Arabic twang in her voice, leaning back to get a good look at my face.

 “Thank you for invitin’ me, Mrs Nasrani.” I replied, copying her actions as she kissed my right cheek, then my left.

 “Please call me Aunt Sara.”

 “Sorry, I forget.”

 She always used to ask me to call her Aunt Sara because she saw me as family -and apparently still does despite us not seeing each other for six years- but due to my upbringing, which was all about good manners and respecting elders, I couldn’t seem to shake off the Mr’s and Mrs’s.

 A smartly dressed man followed closely behind her. He and Zak looked so alike. As Zak moved to my side –I had forgotten he was behind me- I realized just how tall he was -even taller than his father. They both towered the room at over six feet. I felt more comfortable next to Mrs Nasrani –I mean Aunt Sara- and Sami who, although were both still taller than me, were closer to my petite five foot one.

“Nice to see you again Cora. Look how much you have grown!” Mr Nasrani –Uncle Ismael- announced in his usual formal, businesslike voice. He had a strong Canadian accent, you could barely notice the slight Arabic tone unless you were really looking for it.

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