Trish opened her eyes and stared down at the cream-colored envelope. She tapped it against her knee as she wished someone was here with her when she opened it. Finally, she couldn’t stand the suspense a second longer. She picked at the wax seal with a fingernail. Inside was an exquisitely worded invitation inviting her to Dubai three days from then to celebrate Dubai’s national holiday, aptly named National Day. A private jet would be waiting for her at McCarran International Airport if she accepted the invitation. She read the invitation several times, till she had it committed to memory. She was about to slide the heavy card back into the envelope when she realized there was a folded note still in the envelope. She unfolded it with shaky hands. A personal note from the prince, but he wasn’t a prince anymore. He was a sheik. She smiled when she read the note.
Hello, Miss Holiday.
Greetings from Dubai.
I hope you are well and fully recovered from your ordeal. In the spirit of the holiday season, I would be honored if you would accept my invitation to join my sister and me to celebrate National Day, our national holiday. If you are agreeable, please call the number at the bottom, and I will have arrangements set in place. Be mindful there is an eleven-hour time difference. My sister and I look forward to entertaining you and showing you our beautiful country.
It was signed simply “Malik,” with no title in front of his name.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
Three days! Could she be ready in three days? What to pack? Did she have the right clothes for a trip to Dubai? She’d packed away all her summer clothing months ago. She didn’t have anything fancy. What to do? What to do? What to do?
Trish walked out to the kitchen, looked at the turkey carcass and all the things she had ready in preparation for making turkey soup. Without thinking, she scooped up the remains of the bird and tossed them into a trash bag. The vegetables were returned to the refrigerator; the soup pot and spices were returned to the cabinet. She wasn’t making soup that day. She reached for the trash bag and raced out to the Dumpster in the parking lot. She tossed in the bag, then ran back into the house. It was freezing cold. Dubai was hot and dry. She thought she could feel the sun warming her bones.
Back in the living room, she picked up the phone to call her sister, Emma, but the call went straight to voice mail. She then called Connie, who lived in the same gated community she lived in. Connie’s sleepy voice came across the wire.
“Oh, Connie, I’m sorry for waking you, but I have to talk to you. Now! Can I come over? I made some cinnamon buns earlier. I’ll bring them with me. Please, Connie, I have to talk with you.”
“Bring the coffee, too,” Connie grumbled good-naturedly.
Ten minutes later, Trish was sitting at Connie’s dining-room table. She watched as Connie read the engraved invitation and the personal note.
“You’re going, right?” Connie said, her eyes wide as saucers.
“I don’t know. Should I? I want to. I don’t have the right clothes. It’s seven degrees outside. Dubai is hot and dry. I’ve heard stories about women who go to places like Dubai and are never seen again. I tried calling my sister, but the call went to voice mail. For sure, Nathan will fire me if I take off for a few weeks.
“Think about it, Connie. When will I ever get a chance to do something like this again? It just fell into my lap, so to speak. I read up on Dubai when I got back home after being sick, and it’s a modern city. It has the seventh largest shopping mall in the world. It has the highest building in the world. I can’t remember how many feet high, but it is the highest. They’re in the middle of building an airport that will be the biggest in the world when it’s finished, and they have some fancy-dancy hotel that cost over six hundred fifty million to build. I think everyone who lives there is a millionaire. Oh, I’m so confused. Why me? Why did he pick me?”
“Maybe because you’re pretty, not full of yourself, you did return his thousand dollars, and in the end, he had his people take care of you when you were so sick. Maybe he’s like the Chinese. You save a life, then . . . whatever that saying is. Maybe, Trish, the guy fell in love with you. Did you ever think of that? You have stars in your eyes when you talk about him. I rest my case.”
“Nathan . . . I’ve taken so much time off already. My sister is not going to approve.”
“When you get there, sign in at the American embassy. If they don’t have an embassy, then go to the American consulate. I doubt Nathan will fire you. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard via Ernie, who seems to know just about everything, that the prince had a talk with Nathan, as did one of the owners of the casino. That means to me that you are golden as far as he is concerned, and no matter how much time you take off, your job will be waiting for you.
“Your sister? Well, she’ll get over it. You’ll never get another chance like this. I can guarantee that. Sometimes, Trish, you have to reach for the brass ring. As to clothes, I think we girls can outfit you so that you won’t be a disgrace to the prince. But you said he’s not a prince, but a sheik. That’s even better. I’ll make some calls. But first, you have to decide if you really want to go or not.”
“I do! I do!”
“Then let’s get this show on the road, no pun intended. First, hair, nails, pedicure. You have a passport, so that’s no problem. I think you should get a light spray tan so you glisten. Highlights in your hair. The works, Trish! Clean out your bank account if you have to. This is a once-in-a-lifetime gift that’s been given to you.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I don’t have any fancy luggage. Do I need fancy luggage, Connie?”
“We’ll work on that. So are you going to call and accept?”
“You betcha. Okay, I’m going home to make my appointments. Thanks, Connie. You can call me on my cell, okay?” At the door, Trish turned. “You’re sure this is the right thing to do?”
“Yes, I’m sure, and I’m jealous. All the girls will be jealous, but in a good way. You know that. Get going. But leave the cinnamon buns.”
Trish laughed as she slipped into her jacket. “Nathan would skin you alive if he saw you eating all those buns.”
“I’ll do an extra half hour on the treadmill. Go!”
Trish walked down the portable stairs of the private Gulfstream belonging to Sheik Malik bin Al Mohammed. It was hot and dry, not to mention breezy. She could see a Mercedes stretch limo with the flag of Dubai whipping from the front of the vehicle. The door was opened by a man in a long white robe. Out stepped one of the most beautiful women Trish had ever seen, dressed in Western clothes. She smiled at Trish and held out her hand. “Welcome to Dubai, Miss Holiday. I’m Soraya, Malik’s sister. He wishes me to apologize to you for not being here personally to welcome you to Dubai, but he had to go to Abu Dhabi early this morning. However, he will return in time to dine with us this evening.”
Soraya had the same warm, caring eyes as her brother. The same welcoming smile and, Trish suspected, the same sense of humor. “Thank you. Please, call me Trish.”
“Then you must call me Soraya. Did you have a good trip? Was everything satisfactory?”
Trish found it hard not to stare at the beautiful young woman welcoming her to Dubai. The outfit she wore had to have cost more than Trish earned in a year. Chanel, if she wasn’t mistaken. Her jewelry looked to be priceless and probably was. She was as beautiful as her brother Malik was handsome. They had the same warm dark eyes, the same tawny skin, the same wonderful smile. She felt dowdy in comparison.
“Absolutely. It was marvelous. The food was wonderful. I enjoyed the special tea and the rice cakes. I need to learn how to make both. I slept a lot, so the trip went faster than I thought it would. I also read up on your country. I can’t wait to see it all, so I can tell my friends all about it.”
Soraya stepped aside so that Trish could slide into the limo. It was as plush as the Gulfstream. Glasses of sparkling water filled with ice cubes waited for her on a little shelf. Soraya motioned to her to drink it.
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�One must drink a lot of water here.”
When both women were settled, Soraya started to talk. “Malik has appointed me as your tour guide. I love showing off Dubai. In return, I would ask that you tell me everything there is to tell me about America. Malik shared the experiences of his school years with me, but I want a woman’s perspective. My dream has always been to travel to America, but my father would not allow it. I cried for days when Malik left. My father paid no attention. I was to study here, and that was the end of it. Malik has promised me that I can make the trip soon. I am not sure whether he is placating me or not, but I can be relentless when it comes to things like that.” She laughed, the same musical sound as her brother’s laughter.
“Can’t your mother intercede?”
“I have no mother. She died giving birth to me. Malik and I grew up motherless. Having a mother was something we both missed sorely. That is not to say my father ignored us, but it is not the same as having a mother. My mother was very beautiful. It has been said that we both look like her. My father was neither handsome nor beautiful. He had swarthy looks, and his face was heavily pockmarked. He used to say that he could not believe my mother chose him to marry when she came of age when he was so ugly. He referred to himself as ugly at all times. When he would tell us those stories when we were little children, we thought of them as fairy tales. He said he could never marry again, because he could not replace such perfection as my mother. Do you have parents, Trish?”
“I did, of course, but they died from carbon-monoxide poisoning. I was away for a weekend sleepover at a friend’s when it happened. I have a divorced sister who lives with her fourteen-year-old daughter, my only niece, in Princeton, New Jersey. I miss my parents and think of them every day. My sister took over my care until I was old enough to go it alone and be on my own. We’re very close, even though she lives at one end of the country and I live on the other end. We talk daily and try to see each other at least twice a year, sometimes three times, depending, of course, on our finances. Air travel across the country is expensive.
“Soraya, can we stop at the consulate so I can register? My sister made me promise I would do that.”
“It has already been taken care of, Trish. Malik filed the papers the day you said you would accept his invitation. I had one of the servants place the papers in your suite. You, of course, can call the consulate yourself when you feel like it and speak to your people. We can even stop by if that will make you feel more comfortable when we do our tour. Malik wants you to see everything.”
“I’m beyond excited,” Trish gushed. “Between us girls, I wasn’t sure if I should come or not. My friends encouraged me. It seems like I should be doing something for your brother, instead of the other way around. I don’t know if he told you this or not, but if he hadn’t found me when he did, I would have died out in the cold. I will never be able to repay him for saving my life. And yet, here I am. It isn’t quite computing in my head.”
“That’s Malik for you. He’s a wonderful person, even if he is my brother.” This last comment was said with a wink of the eye. Trish laughed.
“It is not much farther, Trish. I know you must be tired. Air travel is wearying. Perhaps you would like to take a swim or a nap. It’s the heat of the day, and you aren’t used to our weather here yet. Tell me, what is it like to be a dancer? How is it you decided to do this?”
“It’s exhausting, but I love it. I always wanted to be in show business. Ideally, I wanted to be a movie star, but I simply wasn’t good enough. I have always loved to dance and took lessons all my life. Las Vegas was the closest I could come to fulfilling my dream. All the girls in the chorus are friends. We’re like our own little family. I can’t imagine doing anything else, but I do work part-time sometimes when I need extra money for something or other that is not in my budget.”
Soraya leaned forward. “Budget? What is that?”
Trish laughed. “Living within your means, not spending money recklessly. I have a mortgage payment, and my car is old. I paid that off, and now I have to get a new one. That’s going to be a huge bill, so I’ll be working weekends again. Normal household bills. I had to budget rather harshly because I needed to buy a new bed. It took me ten months to save up for it, and I had to work in a department store weekends. I did that because as an employee, I got thirty percent off anything I bought in the store. I guess you don’t live on a budget.”
“No. I must try that. Malik lived like that when he was going to school. He did not call it a budget, though. He just said he lived like the other students. He had a ledger with a list of his expenditures. It made my father crazy that Malik wore jeans with holes in the knees and sneakers that looked like they were soaked in mud. He bought food in a store and listed in great detail strange goods. My father would have to look it up to see what he was buying. My father’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw that Malik had bought something called a rattletrap. He asked me what that was, and I did not know. It’s a car, but we only figured it out when he called Malik to ask. He paid three hundred American dollars for it. My father was appalled.”
Trish burst out laughing. “Sounds just like my car. A lot of college kids drive rattletraps. I’m sure your brother just wanted to be like his friends, so he would, as the saying goes, blend in and not be different.”
“But Malik drove it himself! He had to learn how to do that. Rashid was supposed to drive him wherever he wanted to go, but Malik would not hear of it. My poor father was beside himself. He simply did not understand or refused to understand. In the end, he thought Malik was becoming too Americanized. They had sharp words, with Malik threatening to stay and not return. Then my father had his accident. If that had not happened, I think Malik would have stayed in your country.”
Trish thought Soraya was too chatty. It almost seemed like she had a list of things she wanted to talk about and was in a rush to get them all out. Things her brother wanted her to speak of. Why? On the other hand, Soraya was young, and maybe she just liked to chatter to another female near her own age. Though Trish thought she was perhaps five or six years older than the young woman sitting next to her.
“We’re home. This is the palace, Trish.”
She was there! At a palace! Trish strained to see through the heavily tinted windows but was unsuccessful. In a minute, she’d be outside. Then, a few minutes after that, she’d be inside the palace. A real palace.
Oh my God! I’m actually in Dubai.
Chapter 3
AND THEN TRISH STEPPED INTO ANOTHER WORLD. SHE FELT like a tourist must feel when visiting Las Vegas for the first time. She needed sunglasses to ward off the glare from all the gold she was seeing. It appeared that everything was trimmed in gold, coated in gold, or was gold. She knew she was gawking like a rube, but she couldn’t help it. She wondered if she was supposed to say something. Like, “How beautiful,” or maybe, “I never dreamed I would see something so opulent, so unbelievable.” So decadent. So tacky. In Las Vegas, at least you knew it was make-believe, a place to have fun and games, with all the gilt and noise.
And then she said something so stupid, she couldn’t believe the words had actually come out of her mouth. “Who polishes all this gold?”
Soraya stopped in her tracks, her expression puzzled by the fact that a guest should ask such a question. “I have to admit, I don’t know. I would imagine the servants. If it’s important for you to know, I can find out.”
Trish flushed a rosy pink. She shook her head and mumbled something as she followed her host to an elevator whose interior was as big as her living room back in Las Vegas. Inside, there was seating for four with satin-tasseled, gold-covered chairs. Ankle-deep carpeting. Art hung on the walls. In an elevator no less. Absolutely mind-boggling. She hoped she would be allowed to take pictures, because she knew her friends and her sister would never believe it when she tried to describe the incredible wealth she was seeing.
The operator was dressed in a kubaya, and he pressed a button the m
oment the doors slid soundlessly shut. Evidently, royalty didn’t press buttons on their own. What did royalty do to pass the time? Did they do anything for themselves? How had Malik survived in California for seven years on his own? How had he blended in with the other students? She wondered if she would ever find the answers to her many questions. Then again, maybe questions were out of bounds, off-limits. She made a mental note to play things by ear.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Soraya stepped aside to allow Trish to go out first. The servant bowed, his face expressionless.
“This is your suite, Trish. You will have three servants, Zahra, Nada, and Ara. They will see to all your needs and tell you how things are done. Later, we will introduce you to Mustafa, who will be your bodyguard. Samir will be your personal driver. Hasim is your backup driver and bodyguard in case neither Mustafa nor Samir is unavailable.”
“Six servants! Oh, Soraya, I don’t require all that. I’m used to taking care of myself.” Crap, another verbal screwup, according to the expression on Soraya’s face.
“But who will draw your bath? Who will turn down your bed? Who will fetch you your early morning coffee? My brother ordered all this. One does not argue . . . ever, with Malik. His words are law.”
Trish felt like a schoolgirl caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She forced a smile she didn’t quite feel, and said, “I guess I am just not used to so much attention. I’m sorry if I misspoke.”
“It is of no importance. Do not fret.”
The heat on her face made her uncomfortable. Easy to say not to fret. She was fretting. Big-time.
A small lady, whom Soraya introduced as Nada, motioned to Trish to follow her. Gawking again—she simply couldn’t help it—Trish followed the little lady through the suite of rooms. Silks and brocades, the furniture trimmed in gold, patches of ankle-deep carpeting, overhead fans, though the suite was cool. There was obviously air-conditioning coming from somewhere, because she could feel cool air swirling around her ankles. Everything was so magnificent, it took her breath away. She whirled and twirled as she tried to take it all in. She could fit her entire town house into the sitting room. She got dizzy trying to count the number of chairs and what appeared to be love seats.
A Family Affair Page 3