The Cousin

Kemi arrived at the shop on Wednesday in a white Lexus, with a driver, and a perfume that preceded her by four seconds.

"Simi!" She came in with her arms open. She was exactly as Simi remembered: round-cheeked and golden and glowing with the unembarrassed happiness of a woman who has never been told no. "Cousin! Oh, thank you. Thank you for doing this. You are such a good person."

Six tailors stopped sewing. The radio seemed to hold its breath.

"Kemi." Simi did not stand. She kept her pins in her mouth and her eyes on the chalk line. "Sit."

"I cannot sit, I have a hundred appointments." Kemi plucked at the royal blue lace on the table. "Oh, this is gorgeous. My mother will cry. And the silver! Simi, you have outdone yourself."