A Family Affair

by Fern Michaels

  Was she supposed to entertain people here? She was about to blurt out the question, but instead bit down on her lip and followed Nada to her bedroom. She gasped aloud as she stared at the biggest bed she’d ever seen in her life. She almost asked where they got the sheets and coverlet but thought better of it. A dozen people could sleep in the bed, which had a small ladder one used to get into it. Maybe it wasn’t a ladder but a set of steps. God, what if I fall out? Wisely, she didn’t voice that thought, either.

  More chairs, more settees, priceless art on the walls. At least she assumed it was priceless art. Certainly not pictures bought at Target, like the ones in her town house back in Vegas. It was almost impossible to comprehend. Such wealth. Such decadence. If this was a guest suite, she could not help but wonder what Malik’s and Soraya’s suites looked like. She couldn’t begin to imagine.

  She was shown the bathroom and, once again, gasped aloud. It appeared to be gold from top to bottom, with gorgeous tile and ceramic work throughout. Like the sitting room, her whole town house could be fitted into the magnificent bathroom. There was a settee covered in scarlet silk, two chairs covered in gold silk. The walls were glass and mirrors, so that she could see her reflection a dozen different ways. The vanity was long and wide and held pots, jars, and ornate containers of God only knew what. A blow-dryer and a curling iron were set into niches in the wall, the plugs unseen. Luscious, healthy-looking green plants were nestled next to what she thought was the biggest bathtub in the world. She gave up trying to count the jets that she could see. Marble steps, padded with what looked like gold rubber strips, had to be climbed to a place where another set of steps descended into the tub. Again, she almost blurted out a question, how much water did it take to fill the tub? Dubai was the desert. Where did the water come from?

  Damn. What is wrong with me? Why was she being so critical? She needed to kick back and just enjoy her vacation instead of picking it apart. If she kept this up, her hosts would send her packing before she could catch her breath. Trish turned to face the two women.

  “It’s all so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous, so splendid. It takes my breath away.”

  “Wonderful. Malik will be so pleased that you like everything. He worries when we have guests. He wants to be a good host, as do I. I will leave you now. One of the servants will come for you for dinner, which is served at eight o’clock. Tonight dinner is not formal. Malik knows you will be tired, so he suggested casual clothing. Wear anything you feel comfortable in. There are many books and magazines in your sitting room. Nada will show you how our television works. There is also a stereo system, with all your American music. Malik is addicted to it, so he has all the latest tunes. If you care to swim, Nada will take you to the pool. It is very private, and no one will be in it but you. If you wish something to eat, Nada will have Zahra fetch you whatever you want. I will leave you now.”

  Trish wasn’t sure what she should do, shake hands, shrug, smile. The hell with that. She was a hugger, always had been. Her arms went out, and she clasped Soraya to her and almost drowned in the heady scent of her perfume. Screwup or not, she didn’t care.

  “We hug where I come from. It’s a show of thanks and affection.”

  Soraya giggled. “I like it. Malik told me of this. He said men slap each other on the back and shake hands, and women hug and kiss cheeks. Rest now. You must be tired after your long flight. Nap if you feel like it.”

  Trish wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, other than be alone with her thoughts and try to figure out how she was going to handle all the opulence that surrounded her.

  She turned to Nada and said, “I’m sure you have something else you would rather be doing. I think I’ll just walk out to the garden and sit there for a little while. I’ll be fine. Tell me what it is I need to do if I need you.”

  Trish was stunned when she saw Nada’s eyes fill with tears. Shit. Now what did I say? she thought. She found out quick enough.

  “But I am here to serve you. I can run your bath and turn down your bed for a nap. Would you like something to drink? I will fetch it. It is my job.”

  Ah, therein lies the rub, Trish thought. If Nada retreated to . . . wherever, others in the palace would think she, Trish, did not like the servant. So much to learn. “I don’t want a bath right now. Later, before dinner. I don’t wish a nap, because if I nap now, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I would just like to sit in the garden for a while and rest. Perhaps you could fetch me some coffee.”

  Nada’s face lit with a smile. A task to be performed. “But of course, Miss Trisha. I will do that immediately. Sheik Malik said we are to serve you American coffee. He has it shipped here from Hawaii for himself.”

  “Your English is flawless. Where did you learn it?”

  “Here in the palace school. It is mandatory. We have many American guests here who do not speak Arabic. It is a pleasant language.”

  A pleasant language. That was a new one on her. She needed to start a diary so she didn’t forget a moment of this visit.

  Trish kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot through the doors and out into the garden, which could only be described as an oasis. She heard trickling water and smelled scents she’d never smelled before. She almost laughed out loud when she saw the Adirondack chairs scattered about the garden, with gaily painted wooden tables also strewn about. There was grass and a wild profusion of colored flowers everywhere. Trees whose names she didn’t know, with glossy, shiny leaves. Little paths with colored stones that led to somewhere, probably to more chairs and little tables. The chairs had tufted cushions and looked comfortable. Hometown America. Sort of. Kind of.

  Trish sat down on one of the chairs and hooked her big toe onto a footstool to draw it nearer. She realized she still had her purse on her shoulder. If ever there was a cigarette moment, this was that moment. She didn’t smoke a lot and didn’t consider herself a smoker, but at that moment she found herself wanting a cigarette. Malik smoked, because she had smelled it on him the night he picked her up off the ground. And the suite she had stayed in smelled of cigarette smoke, so his entourage smoked, too. Did women in Dubai smoke? She had no idea. Obviously, someone smoked, because there were gold-rimmed ashtrays on all the little tables. She fired up a cigarette and almost immediately felt the tension leave her shoulders.

  Trish turned when she saw Nada out of the corner of her eye, pushing a little table on wheels with a full coffee service and several plates with cold domes sitting on top of them.

  “It is what we serve with tea in the afternoons. Sweets. Shall I pour your coffee, madam?”

  Trish nodded as she continued to smoke. Coffee and a cigarette. It was as American as you could get. She thanked Nada and reached for the cup. She sipped at the fragrant brew. Even back in the States, she didn’t think she’d ever tasted coffee this good.

  “Just ring the little bell on the tray if you wish anything else, madam. Before I leave, would you like me to bring the cell phone Sheik Malik left for you? He said yours will not work here and that you need a special one. He thought you might want to call your family or perhaps some friends from your home.”

  “Yes, thank you very much. I would like to call home.”

  “One moment. I will fetch it, madam.”

  Moments later, Trish was holding a cell phone that looked like any other cell phone. She clicked it on and pressed the country code for the United States and dialed the number. A moment later, she heard her sister’s voice. Trish squealed out a greeting, hardly stopping to breathe as she proceeded to describe the palace and the garden she was sitting in that very minute.

  She stopped for a moment to listen to her sister and responded, “No, no, I haven’t see him yet. I will tonight at dinner. Dinner is at eight, and it’s casual. Casual here might mean something different from what we consider casual back home. Yes, I am registered at the consulate. They did it for me.” She listened some more, then signed off, saying she wanted to call Connie. “Love you, sis. I�
�ll bring you a present from Dubai. Give Missy a hug for me.”

  Trish pressed in the digits of Connie’s number. She quickly calculated the time difference, knowing that Connie was about ready for the second show of the evening. When her friend answered, she could hear all the backstage chatter. She momentarily felt homesick. She started to babble as soon as she heard Connie’s voice.

  When she finally wound down long enough to catch her breath, she heard Connie say, “C’mon, cut to the chase and tell us the good stuff. What did he say? What did he do? Is he still as handsome as you thought? Did he kiss you yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him yet. Oh, Connie, I’m so overwhelmed. I’ve asked the most stupid questions. I feel like a hick. You would, too, if you could see this place. I don’t belong here. This is not . . . I could never get used to this kind of living.”

  “Trish, you’re just visiting. It’s a vacation of a lifetime. Can’t you just roll with it and enjoy it for what it is, a vacation of a lifetime?”

  “At the moment, I have no other choice. It’s all so new. I just can’t imagine all this wealth. It’s mind-bending, to say the least. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how it goes when I meet up with Malik. I have to figure out what to wear. What do you think casual means over here, Connie?”

  “Casual is whatever you want it to be. Wear the white piqué sundress. It will show off that wonderful spray tan you paid good money for. Wear your cross on the chain. This is no time to deny your faith. Are you listening to me, Trish?”

  “I am. I’m wearing it now, but it’s not noticeable under my shirt. You know I never take it off. My mother gave it to me on my tenth birthday. The white sandals with the inch heel, right?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll look like a million bucks, kiddo. No matter what they wear, you won’t be overdressed or underdressed. You’re a nervous wreck, aren’t you, Trish? I can hear it in your voice. Relax and just go with the flow.”

  “Easy for you to say. God, Connie, why do you think he invited me here? I know you said he likes me, but he’s half a world away. There’s no way we could have a long-distance relationship and make it work. Remember, he’s not a prince anymore. He’s the sheik. Just because Malik helped me when I was sick doesn’t explain this . . . this vacation. There has to be an ulterior motive somewhere. I just can’t figure out what it is.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Gotta go, Trish. Showtime. We just got the final call.”

  “Love you. Tell everyone I miss them. I’ll bring presents for everyone, all the way from Dubai.”

  The moment the connection was broken, Trish closed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt lost and all alone. The words ulterior motive kept ricocheting around and around inside her head. She poured more coffee and fired up another cigarette. She needed to think.

  An hour later her thoughts were no different. She was tired of smoking cigarettes she didn’t want, tired of drinking the excellent coffee. She needed to move about. A walk through the garden, sniffing the fragrant flowers, might help. She realized she was still in her bare feet. The mossy, spongy grass felt good beneath her feet. Such a simple pleasure in this land of unbelievable wealth.

  Trish let her thoughts go to Malik and how she’d been attracted to him from the moment he lifted her in his arms. She remembered how safe she felt there. She thought then about all his visits to her sickroom, the inane conversations. She remembered how her heartbeat quickened at the look in his eyes, how happy she felt when he smiled at her. All the dreams she’d had of Malik. Sweet, wonderful dreams. She’d cried when he told her he was leaving to return to Dubai, knowing she’d never see him again. She’d cried into her pillow so no one would know how she felt.

  When Trish finished her tour of the garden and was back on the Adirondack chair, she ignored the cigarettes and coffee. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She shifted her thoughts to her sister back in New Jersey and her friends in Las Vegas. For some crazy reason, she thought about Ernie and how shocked he was when she told him to return the thousand dollars to Malik. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

  Trish looked down at her watch. Hours to go till it was time to meet up with the man who had literally saved her life. Hours till she set eyes on Sheik Malik bin Al Mohammed.

  Just hours.

  Chapter 4

  TRISH LOOKED DOWN AT HER WATCH FOR WHAT SHE WAS SURE was the hundredth time. The time hadn’t changed much since the last time she looked, not even a minute ago. The little gold circle on her wrist said the time was 7:31 p.m. Dubai time. She had been awake now for close to thirty hours and was starting to feel it.

  The soak in the massive tub had almost put her to sleep. The heady scent of the bath salts had soothed all her senses. The bathroom smelled wonderful! She smelled wonderful! The world smelled wonderful!

  Trish could see her reflection in all the mirrors lining the walls. While a tad creepy, it allowed her to see every part of her body. She whirled and twirled. The white piqué sundress the girls back home had helped her choose was, in her eyes, perfect. At home, in the summer, she could go anywhere in it. To a summer party, out to dinner, on a movie date, out for a walk in the park . . . with someone. The gold chain and cross around her neck, the last gift from her mother, sparkled in the overhead lighting. She hadn’t applied much makeup; the spray tan had done its job. A little mascara, a little eyeliner, some lipstick, and that was it. What she would do when the spray tan faded, she had no idea. Maybe the spray tan was a bad idea. Too late to worry about that.

  Trish looked down at her white sandals. She’d paid way too much for them, but the girls had goaded her with the “once-in-a-lifetime vacation and throw caution to the winds” argument. And they did match the dress perfectly.

  Trish paced because she didn’t want to sit down and wrinkle her dress. She walked around the suite of rooms and was on her ninth lap when she decided to go outside and smoke a cigarette. She nixed the second half of that idea almost immediately as she didn’t want to smell like cigarette smoke. Instead, she peered at herself in one of the mirrors on her last lap to stare at her hair and the earrings one of the girls had loaned her. Real diamonds, but only half a carat each. Still, they were diamonds. Her hair, now, that was another story altogether. Fortunately, she and her sister had been blessed with natural curly hair, thanks to their father. What that meant was that she could style her hair just about any way she wanted to, and it would stay in place. The only thing she had to do was highlight it from time to time, something she’d done the day before coming to the Arabian Peninsula.

  The next thing she knew, she was out in the garden, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves. She wondered if Malik was as nervous as she was. Probably not. Men played it cool and didn’t get emotional the way women did.

  Fifteen minutes to go.

  Trish walked up and down the little stone paths. She stopped often to smell the flowers and finally ended up picking a vibrant scarlet flower she’d never seen before. She stuck it in her hair, over her ear, then giggled. Soraya would probably frown. Malik would probably grin. Damn, she could hardly wait to see him. That first moment, she knew in her heart, in her mind, in her gut, would tell her why she was there. That first one-second look would say it all. The girls back in Vegas had agreed when she told them that. Just one second, and she would know her destiny.

  Her adrenaline was at an all-time high. She knew when she crashed, it would be for twenty-four hours. Then she’d miss out on a whole day of her vacation. Was there an alarm clock in her bedroom? She couldn’t remember seeing one. Maybe she would need to tell Nada to wake her in the morning. Jet lag was awful, just awful.

  Ten minutes. Trish continued to walk in the garden.

  Five minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Trish headed back into the suite and walked to the huge sitting room. She just stood there, her eyes glued to her watch.

  Two minutes.

  One minute.

  Trish almost jumped out of her skin when she
heard the knock on the door.

  Nada appeared out of nowhere and opened the door. A tiny little lady wearing a pale yellow gown of some sort smiled and motioned for Trish to follow her.

  Nada whispered to Trish as she swept by. “You look ravishing, Miss Holiday.”

  Startled, Trish swung around and hugged her new maid. “Thank you for saying that. I was worried I might . . .”

  “You look perfect. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Like that was really going to happen. She wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of food. She was absolutely sure of it.

  “Where are we going?” Trish asked nervously after they had walked for over five minutes, up one hall and down another, then around a few corners.

  “To Sheik Malik’s apartments. He wanted dinner to be informal this evening. Normally, dinner is served in the dining room. Tomorrow or the next day, Nada will show it to you. My name is Lily, Miss Holiday. I am Princess Soraya’s personal maid.”

  Trish wondered if Malik had maids or male stewards.

  “Ah, here we are. Do not be nervous, Miss Holiday. I can feel you shaking as you stand next to me. The sheik and the princess are wonderful people. They will put you at ease. I am going to knock on the door now, then leave you. Have an enjoyable dinner and a pleasant evening.”

  Trish didn’t trust herself to speak. She had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, then opening the door. Which she did.