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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