That night, they sat out on her uncle Reda’s and aunt Nadine’s large terrace for a delicious dinner that stretched all the way through a brilliant sunset over Lake Michigan into a star-filled night. The bungalows they rented had fire pits installed on the decks, and Laila’s father and Reda got a blaze going. Her mom and aunties had outdone themselves, as usual. In honor of Zarif’s presence, they served Zarif’s favorites: a chicken tagine, sweet onions, almond and honey raghaif, and fruit. Despite her recent prickly mood, Laila found herself enjoying the excellent food and the happy, fire-lit faces of her family. She thought her father, uncles and cousins all looked very relaxed and handsome with their deepening tans following their fishing trip. Even Mamma Sophia had felt well enough to attend. Her thin face looked alight as she talked with her eldest grandson. During tea and dessert, Tahi, who sat next to her, whispered in Laila’s ear.
“Since it’s so hot, we’re moving over to Nadine and Reda’s sleeping porch tonight.”
“Really?” Laila whispered, relief sweeping through her. While they vacationed in Crescent Bay, they always rented the same three cottages on the beach. Zara’s family usually got the largest one, because they had the most children. That cottage possessed a screened-in porch that faced the lake. Traditionally, the three girls—Laila, Zara and Tahi—slept there on hot nights. Laila welcomed the idea tonight. In Crescent Bay, she had to share a room with Mamma Sophia. Normally, this was no problem for her. She loved her grandmother. They shared a special bond. Mamma Sophia had once possessed a lovely singing voice, and she’d taught Laila every Moroccan and traditional Arab song she knew. Until arthritis had crippled her fingers and her heart had grown weak, Mamma Sophia used to play the piano regularly. She’d been Laila’s first and best piano teacher.
Her grandmother also used to read to her frequently when she was a little girl. Laila credited Sophia largely with her love of words and music. Now that Mamma Sophia was older, and her eyesight and her arthritis had grown worse, leaving her bedridden much of the time, their roles had been switched. Laila now often read to her, or merely visited with her while they sipped tea and Mamma Sophia lay propped up in bed.
So she felt a little guilty at not wanting to share a room with her grandmother tonight. But she found the idea of sleeping in the open air of the porch especially appealing, given her recent bouts of restlessness and claustrophobia.
Of horniness, a snide voice in her head added.
But that didn’t change the fact that if she couldn’t be alone, being with her cousins on the large sleeping porch in the open air was the next best thing.
• • •
At around one o’clock in the morning, Laila, Zara and Tahi were still awake. The three of them formed a triangle on the floor of the sleeping porch, each of them lying on top of an air mattress and a sleeping bag. It was a warm, humid summer night. Thanks to the rows of opened screened-in windows, the cool lake breeze, her brief sleepwear and a humming fan, Laila was comfortable, however. The interior of Zara’s family’s bungalow had been silent and dark for hours now. Thanks to years of experience, the girls knew that the distant sound of waves hitting the beach and the fan easily muffled their quiet conversations from the sleeping household.
“He told me I should come to visit him in New York this fall,” Zara said, referring to Eric.
“Is that where he lives?” Laila asked.
Zara nodded. “He works in Manhattan. He’s the East Coast manager of marketing—or something like that—for Gaites-Granville Media. I know it’s something in marketing, and he’s the head of it. That’s just another thing Eric and I have in common: marketing.”
“You mean he’s taken two classes in it at the local junior college too?”
“Shut up, Tahi. You’re just jealous. You know Eric got his degree in marketing from Harvard last year. He lives in Great Neck Estates, where all these really rich people live,” Zara said, focusing solely on Laila.
“So he works for his daddy and lives with him too,” Tahi said drolly. “Do you really think all those stuck-up, rich WASPs are going to welcome you with open arms?”
“You live with your daddy,” Zara shot back, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“So do you,” Tahi reminded her.
“Cut it out, you two,” Laila said wearily in her frequent role of peacekeeper between her cousins.
“It’s not the same thing at all. Their house in Great Neck is a huge mansion, even bigger than Asher’s parents’ house on the beach,” Zara said, once again speaking solely to Laila. Laila couldn’t help but notice that her cousin had avoided responding to Tahi’s cynical comment about Eric’s family welcoming her with open arms. Knowing Zara, her cousin was having uncertainties about that issue too, and was willfully repressing her concerns. Zara always did have the ability to focus solely on a good time. “He has a whole wing of the house to himself, and his own entrance and everything. Can you believe it? I’ve never even met a millionaire before. Now I’m dating one. And you are too, Laila.”
“Asher and I aren’t dating,” Laila assured her. “And Asher isn’t a millionaire. His parents are wealthy, that’s all.”
“Same difference. Who do you think is going to inherit all that money? Asher is an only son, and Eric only has an older sister to split things with. Tahi, you should blow off that Rudy and focus on Jim. Eric said Jim’s family is loaded,” Zara said.
Tahi rolled her eyes and scooted closer to Laila. “You met with Asher today. There has to be something to tell. Jim said that Asher is really interested in you.”
“He did?” Laila asked, her skin roughening.
“Yeah. So did Rudy. You’ve been dodging our questions all night. Zara’s told us practically everything, including the direction Eric swirls his tongue when he kisses.” Zara made a disgusted sound and slapped Tahi’s shoulder. Tahi rubbed the spot on her skin and ignored her. “Come on, spill it. Tell us what happened when you met with Asher.”
“We just went to a beach close to the white house and swam.” Laila sidestepped the question. “We talked. He’s really smart. He’s starting work at the L.A. Times later this summer as an international reporter.”
“He’s so gorgeous,” Tahi said fervently.
Zara frowned. “Eric told me that Asher was going to work for GGM in Chicago.”
Laila’s heart jumped into her throat. “Oh . . . I shouldn’t have said that about the L.A. Times. Don’t say anything to Eric. Asher hasn’t mentioned it to his parents yet. Please, Zara? I mean it.”
Zara shrugged. “No problem, it’s no sweat off my back.” Laila exhaled in relief. She’d almost blown things for Asher. He’d want to be the one to break the news about his job to his parents, not have them hear it from Eric or by a rumor. “But why does he want a job as a reporter? He can’t make very much money doing that compared to the kind of job he’d get at GGM, can he? Unless the L.A. Times is one of GGM’s newspapers?”
“I don’t think so,” Laila said, thinking. “I don’t think Asher wants to work for the family business.”