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She sounded disappointed. She thought that the UCLA piece was better, and the piece on the prime minister seemed dull to her.
    “And I’m going to Dubai tomorrow night, to interview a Saudi prince who is a major oil company executive. He’s supposed to be a very interesting guy. There’s a rumor that his brother is a terrorist, but no one knows for sure.”
    “Are you going to ask him?” Salima loved the idea and laughed at the thought.
    “Probably. I’ll see how it goes. I’ll be back after that. I’ll just be gone for three days.”
    “I’m fine, Mom,” Salima reassured her. It was she who always reassured Blaise, not the reverse.
    “I’ll come see you when I get back. How’s school?”
    “Boring. I’m trying to get all my required classes out of the way. They’re awful. I only have one elective this term.”
    “What is it?”
    “History of Italian Renaissance music,” she said, sounding delighted, and her mother groaned.
    “Oh my God, now
that
sounds awful. I’d rather take math,” Blaise said with feeling, and Salima laughed.
    “I love it. And the music is gorgeous. I keep humming it when I get home.”
    “Only you,” Blaise said, smiling. Salima loved to sing and could sing almost anything. She had a beautiful voice, and an incredible memory for music. It was a gift she’d had even as a child.
    They chatted for half an hour, about the school shooting, her other classes, some gossip she’d heard about two of the teachers at her school having an affair. She didn’t know who, and there were rumors like it from time to time, but it was always intriguing to hear. Her source had been vague. Salima was easy to talk to, and it made Blaise feel guilty again, talking to her, thinking she should call her more often. But Salima was busy with her own life, and always in good spirits. She was very independent and didn’t sit around waiting to hear from her mother. And Blaise had always been busy. Salima was used to it.
    “I’ll call you as soon as I get back,” Blaise promised. “I’ll try to come up this weekend.”
    “I’m fine, Mom,” she told her again. “Don’t come up if you’re too tired after the trip.”
    “We’ll see.” She loved visiting her at that time of year anyway. The turning of the leaves in New England always thrilled her. But itwas a bigger thrill to see her daughter. Even though she didn’t see enough of her, Blaise loved her. And Salima understood the priorities that governed her mother’s life.
    “Fly safe,” Salima said as they hung up, and Blaise sat thinking of her for a minute, and then went to get dressed. She had just enough time to grab something out of the fridge and make her flight.
    Tully was waiting for her when she got downstairs. He looked a lot more tired than Blaise, whose day had been just as long, and she had been busier. And she was quiet on the way to the airport, thinking of Salima again. She was determined to go to Massachusetts now on the weekend. She hadn’t seen her in a month, since Labor Day weekend, right before school started. It was time for a visit. She tried to get up to see her once a month, or if she was traveling a lot, every six or eight weeks. Sometimes it was the best she could do. It was always fine with Salima, she made that clear to her mother. She was nineteen now after all, not a baby. But even when she had first gone away to school, she had been very brave about it, and never begged her mother to visit or take her out of school. She was just happy when Blaise came to see her. She was completely undemanding. It would have been easier for Blaise if Harry visited her occasionally too, but he rarely did. Only Blaise. He was a good man, but a lousy father. Once Salima went away to school at eight, he hardly saw her, and they had no relationship to speak of now, and never had.
    Two officials from British Air met Blaise at the airport and escorted her to a private VIP room, where they let her relax until it was time to board