by Morey, Trish
“Thank you. I’ll give credit in my brochure so everyone will know you helped.”
“No. No credit, no publicity.”
She started to protest but wisely agreed. “Okay. I’m cooling a couple of pieces now and once they are ready, I will begin taking pictures. I appreciate this.”
“You weren’t on the beach last night,” he said.
He had been, obviously.
“I, uh, needed to get to sleep early. Big day today.”
“Doing what?”
“Coming to ask you about the salon” sounded dumb. What else could she come up with?
He watched her. Ella fidgeted and looked around the room. “Just a big day. Why is my vase in here?”
“I was looking at it. I thought it was mine.”
“I guess. I should have said why is the vase I made in here instead of the foyer.”
“I wanted to look at it. I like it.”
She blinked in surprise. “You do?”
Amusement lurked in his eyes again. “You sound surprised. Isn’t it good?”
She nodded. “I just can’t imagine you—”
“Having an eye for beauty?”
“I wasn’t exactly going to say that.”
“You haven’t held back on anything else.”
“You are very exasperating, do you know that?” she asked.
“Makes a change from other names I’ve been called.”
If he drove the other people he knew as crazy as he did her, she wasn’t surprised.
Khalid stood and moved around to sit at the desk.
“So, you’ll be on the beach tonight?” he asked casually.
Ella shrugged. “Thanks for letting me use the salon for the photographs.”
“One caveat,” he said, glancing up.
She sighed. It had been too good to be true. “What?”
“I get to give final approval. I don’t want certain prize possessions to be part of your sales catalog. No need to give anyone the idea that more than your glass is available.”
“Done.” She nodded and turned. At the door she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “I do expect to take a walk tonight as it happens.”
She wasn’t sure, but she suspected the expression on his face was as close to a smile as she’d seen.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLA and Khalid fell into a tentative friendship. Each night she went for a walk along the beach. Most evenings Khalid was already on the sand, as if waiting for her. They fell into an easy conversation walking in the dark at the water’s edge. Sometimes they spoke of what they’d done that day. Other times the walks were primarily silent. Ella noted he was quieter than other men she’d known. Was that his personality or a result of the accident? She gathered the courage to ask about it on the third evening after he said she could use the salon.
“How did you get burned?” she asked as they were turning to head for home. She hadn’t wanted to cut the walk short if he got snippy about her question.
“We were capping a fire in Egypt. Just as the dynamite went off, another part of the well exploded. The shrapnel shredded part of my suit, instant burn. Hurt like hell.”
“I can imagine. I’ve had enough burns to imagine how such a big area would be almost unbearable. Were you long in hospital?”
“A few months.”
And in pain for much of that time, she was sure. “Did you get full mobility back?”
“Yes. And other parts were unaffected.”
She smiled at his reminder of her attempt at being tactful when he said he wouldn’t marry. A burned patch of skin wouldn’t be enough to keep her from falling for a man. She suspected Khalid was too sensitive to the scar. There were many woman who would enjoy being with him.
“Good. What I don’t get is why you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Put your life at risk. You don’t even need to work, do you? Don’t you have enough money to live without risking life and limb?”
He was quiet a moment, then said, “I don’t have to work for money. I do want to do what I can to make oil production safe. Over the last fifty years or so many men have died because of faulty equipment or fires. Our company has reaped the benefit. But in doing that we have an obligation to make sure the men who have helped in our endeavors have as much safety guarding them as we can provide. If I can provide that, then it’s for the good.”
“An office job would be safer,” she murmured.
“Rashid has that covered. I like being in the field. I like the desert, the challenge of capturing the liquid crude beneath the land, or the sea. I like knowing I’m pitting my skills and experience against the capricious nature of drilling—and coming out on top more than not.”
“Still seems ridiculously dangerous. Get someone else to do it.”
“It’s my calling, you might say.”
Ella was silent at that. It still seemed too dangerous for him—witness the burn that had changed his life. But she was not someone to argue against a calling. She felt that with her art.
She turned and he caught her hand, pulling her to a stop. She looked up at him. The moon was a sliver on the horizon, the light still dim, but she could see him silhouetted against the stars.
“What?”
“My mother is hosting a reception on Saturday. I need to make an appearance. I want you to go with me.”
Ella shook her head. “I don’t do receptions,” she said. “Actually I don’t go away from the estate much.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t,” she murmured, turning to walk toward home.
He still held her hand and fell into step with her.
“Consider it payment for using the salon,” he said.
“You already agreed to my using the salon. You can’t add conditions now.”
“Sure I can—it’s my salon. You want to use it, consider this part of the payment. It’s just a reception. Some people from the oil company, some from the government, some personal friends. We circulate, make my mother happy by being seen by everyone, then leave. No big deal.”
“Get someone else.”
He was silent for several steps.
“There is no one else,” he said slowly.
“Why not?”
“I’ve been down that road, all right? I’m not going to set myself up again. Either it’s you, or I don’t go. My grandmother helped you out—your turn to pay back.”
“Jeeze, talk about coercion. You’re sure it’ll only be people who live here in Quishari?”
“Yes. What would it matter if foreigners came? You’re one yourself.”
“I am trying to keep a low profile, that’s why,” she said, hating to reveal anything, but not wanting to find out her hiding place had been found.
“Why?”
“I have reasons.”
“Are you hiding?” he asked incredulously.
“Not exactly.”
“Exactly what, then?” He pulled her to a stop again. “I want to hear this.”
“I’m in seclusion because of the death of my husband.”
“That was over a year ago.”
“There’s a time limit on grieving? I hadn’t heard that.”
“There’s no time limit, but by now the worst should be behind you and you should be going out and seeing friends. Maybe finding a new man in your life.”
“I see my friends,” she protested. “And I’m not going down that road again. You’re a funny one to even suggest it.”
“When do you see friends?”
“When they come to visit. I’m working now and it’s not convenient to have people over. But when I’m not in the midst of something, they come for swimming in the sea and alfresco meals on my terrace. Did you think I was a hermit?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I never see these friends.”
“You’ve lived here for what, almost a week? No one has come in that time. Stick around if you’re so concerned about my social life.”
“
Mostly I’m concerned about your going with me to the reception this weekend.”
“No.”
“Yes. Or no salon photos.”
Ella glared at him. It missed the mark. He couldn’t see her that well. And she suspected her puny attempts at putting him in the wrong wouldn’t work. He did own the estate. And she did need permission to use the salon. Rats, he was going to win on this one. She did not want to go. She was content in her cottage, with her work and with the solitude.
Only sometimes did it feel lonely.
Not once since Khalid had arrived.
Dangerous thoughts, those. She was fine.
“All right, we’ll go, greet everyone and then leave.”
“Thank you.”
They resumed the walk, but Ella pulled her hand from his. They were friends, not lovers. No need to hold hands.
But her hand had felt right in his larger one. She missed the physical contact of others. She hadn’t been kissed in ages, held with passion in as long. Why did her husband have to die?
“I’ll pick you up at seven on Saturday,” he said.
“Fine. And first thing tomorrow, I’m coming to take photographs. I don’t want to miss my chance in case you come up with other conditions that I can’t meet.”
He laughed.
Ella looked at him. She’d never even seen him smile and now he was laughing in the darkness! Was that the only time he laughed?
“I expect I need to wear something very elegant,” she mumbled, mentally reviewing the gowns she’d worn at university events. There were a couple that might do. She hadn’t thought about dressing up in a long time. A glimmer of excitement took hold. She had enjoyed meeting other people at the university, speaking about topics far removed from glass making. Would the reception be as much fun? She felt a frisson of anticipation to be going with Khalid. She always seemed more alive when around him.
“You’ll look fine in anything you wear,” he said easily.
Just like a man, she thought, still reviewing the gowns she owned.
The next morning Ella carefully took two of her pieces, wrapped securely in a travel case, and went to the main house. Ringing the doorbell, she was greeted by Jalilah.
“I’ve come to take pictures,” she said.
“In the salon, His Excellency has told me. Come.” The maid led the way and then bowed slightly before leaving.
Ella put the starburst bowl on one of the polished mahogany tables.
Khalid appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the jamb and watched.
“What do you want?” she asked, feeling her heartbeat increase. Fussing, she tried pictures from different angles. She could hardly focus the lens with him watching her.
“Just wanted to see how the photo shoot went.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“No.”
She tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. She lifted the camera and framed the bowl. She snapped the picture just as the doorbell sounded. She looked at Khalid. “Company?” she asked. Maybe someone who would take him away from the salon.
He looked into the foyer and nodded. “Rashid and Bethanne. Good timing. They can help.”
“Help what?”
“You get the best pictures. You want to appeal to the largest number of buyers, right?”
“Of course.” The sooner she started earning money, the sooner she might move.
“Hello,” Rashid said, coming into the room with a tall blond woman. “Ella, this is my fiancée, Bethanne Sanders. Bethanne, this is Ella Ponti. Now, can you two talk?” he asked in Arabic.
“I also speak Italian and French and English,” Ella said, crossing the room to greet the pair.
Switching to English, Rashid said, “Good, Ella speaks English.”
“I’m so delighted to meet you,” Bethanne said, offering her hand.
Ella shook it and smiled. “I’m happy to meet you. My English is not so good, so excuse me if I get things mixed.”
“At least we can communicate. And you speak Arabic. I’m learning from a professor at the university. That’s not easy.”
“And the maid,” Rashid said softly.
Bethanne laughed. “Her, too.”
“Would that be Professor Hampstead?” Ella asked.
“Yes, do you know him?” Bethanne asked with a pleased smile.
“My husband worked at the university in language studies. I know the professor and his wife quite well. He’s an excellent teacher.”
“We came to see your work,” Rashid said. “I see you’ve started on the pictures.”
“Photographing some pieces for a preliminary catalog. I’d like to see if I can move up my timetable for a showing. Once I have enough pictures, I can make a small catalog and circulate it.”
“Why are you taking pictures here?” Bethanne asked, walking over to look at the bowl. “Oh, this is exquisite. You made this? How amazing!” She leaned over and touched the edge lightly but made no move to pick it up.
“I think the ambiance of the other furnishings here will show it off better. I want the background to be blurry, with only the glass piece in clear focus, but to give the feel that it would fit in any elegant salon.”
“And Khalid was all for the project, obviously,” Rashid said with a glance at his twin.
“Obviously—she’s here, isn’t she?” Khalid said. “You two can help with the project. Give us an unbiased perspective and select the best pictures.”
“I’d like to see the other pieces you’ve made,” Bethanne said.
“I’m happy to show you. Shall we go now?”
“Finish the pictures of these, then when you go to your studio, you can bring some more over,” Khalid suggested.
The next couple of hours were spent with everyone giving opinions about the best angle for pictures and which of the different art pieces Ella had created should be included. Rashid said he’d see if his mother had some recommendations on art galleries who would help.
Ella felt as if things were spinning out of control. She and Alia al Harum had discussed the plans, but they’d been for years down the road. Now so much was happening at once.
Khalid looked over at her at one point and said, “Enough. We will return to the main house and have lunch on the terrace. Bethanne, you haven’t told Ella what you do. I think she’ll be interested.”
Ella threw him a grateful smile. “I’ll just tidy up a bit and join you.”
Rashid and Bethanne headed out, but Khalid remained behind for a moment.
“They only wanted to help,” he said.
“I’m glad they did.”
“But you’re feeling overwhelmed. You set the pace. This is your work, your future. Don’t let anyone roll over you.”
“Good advice. Remember that next time you want your way,” she said, sitting down on her bench, touched he’d picked up on her mild panic and dealt with it. She hadn’t expected such sensitivity from the man.
“You are coming for lunch?”
“Yes. I just need a few minutes to myself.”
“I’ll come back for you if you don’t show up in twenty minutes.”
“Did anyone tell you you’re a bit bossy?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes,” he said, and left.
Ella took less than the twenty minutes. After a quick splash of cool water against her face, she brushed her hair and lay down for ten minutes. Then hurried to the main house. Khalid and the others were on the terrace and she walked straight there without going through the house.
Lunch was delicious and fun. It was a bit of a struggle to remember to speak English during the meal, but she was confident she held her own in the conversation that ranged from Bethanne’s career as a pilot to Rashid’s recent trip to Texas to the reception on Saturday night.
“Are you coming?” Rashid asked his brother at one point.
“Yes,” Khalid said.
Rashid and Bethanne exchanged surprised looks.
“Great.”
> “I’m bringing Ella,” Khalid continued.
Both guests turned to stare at her. She smiled brightly. Was this such an amazing thing? Surely Khalid had brought other women to receptions before.
“Condition of using the salon for the pictures,” she murmured.
“Of course,” Rashid said with another quick glance at his fiancée.
“Great. Maybe you could go shopping with me before then,” Bethanne said. “I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear.”
Ella hesitated. She hadn’t been shopping except for groceries since her husband’s funeral. Dare she go? Surely it would be okay for one afternoon. It wasn’t as if anyone was hanging around the main streets of the city looking for her.
“I don’t know if I would be much help.” She felt Khalid’s gaze on her and glanced his way.
“Help or not, don’t women love to buy beautiful dresses?”
“I don’t need one. I have several,” Ella said.
“Come help me find several,” Bethanne urged.
Rashid watched the interaction and then looked at his brother. He narrowed his eyes when Khalid never looked away from Ella.
“Okay, I’ll go tomorrow afternoon,” Ella said fast, as if afraid she’d change her mind.
When lunch finished, Ella thanked her host and fled for her cottage. She’d had more activity today than any time since Alexander had died. And she’d agreed to go shopping—out along the main district of Alkaahdar. Surely after all this time it would be safe. She had a right to her own life. And to live it on her terms.
That night she debated going for a walk. She was getting too used to them. Enjoying them too much. What happened when Khalid moved on? When he went to another oil field to consult on well equipment, or had to go fight a fire. That thought scared her. He was trained; obviously an expert in the field. He knew what to do. It was dangerous, but as he’d explained, except for that one accident, he’d come through unscathed many times.
But that one could have killed him. Didn’t he realize that? Or another one similar that might rip the helmet and protection totally off. She shivered thinking about it.
She went for her walk, hoping he’d be there. It was better than imaging awful things that could happen.
He sat on the sand near the garden.