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it also have much beauty. The houseboats is something very special of Srinagar. You will very much like yours, I’m sure.”
    “I agree,” my canny boss says. “I was sent some lovely photos. Wait until you see the one where we’re staying. It has four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, a living room they call a lounge, a dining room, a kitchen and big ol’ pantry—and it even comes with its own houseboy. Imagine that! I sure was surprised when I learned all this. Of course, I couldn’t pass up the chance.”
    Of course she couldn’t. She’s Miss Mona Latimer. A woman with a keen sense of adventure. And I’m one with a keen sense of smell. Remember that stink I thought I smelled?
    Well, I smell a rat too. Last I heard, this was supposed to be a mission trip, to check out an orphanage for kids who lost everything in the quake. Tourism agents and houseboats don’t add up to missions to me. They make me think of, well, tourism.
    Did Miss Mona lose her way?
    Or is she mixing faith with pleasure?
    And how about that keen business sense? Would she miss an opportunity?
    Doubt it. Remember Glory and Allison? Uh-huh. They’re in the van’s rear seat, each sporting a big tote bag full of gear.
    Miss Mona’s never missed the chance to turn even a business trip into an experience in every sense of the word. Not that I’m questioning Glory’s and Allison’s urge to serve at the mission.
    I knew going in who I was dealing with. I shouldn’t be surprised.
    At least the idea of staying in a floating house is a far cry from the reality of foreign government officials chasing us across a third-world country with weapons drawn. Yeah. Been there, done that. With Miss Mona, once was enough.
    Fifteen minutes later, the van stops in front of one of the houseboats. Inside lights shine through detailed carved wood trim to give the vessel an ethereal, lacy appearance.
    I’m charmed—what woman wouldn’t be? Smiling, I slam the mental door on the spooky feeling I’ve had since we left the plane.
    Dumb? Maybe.
    Out of the van, I stare. Can’t help myself. The houseboat is amazing. Then I catch sight of Aunt Weeby. She’s staring too. Speechless.
    Cool, huh? Aunt Weeby. Dumbstruck.
    Maybe I misread the whole Kashmir experience back at the airport. Maybe Miss Mona and Aunt Weeby are right. Maybe I do need to get myself an attitude adjustment when it comes to this glamorous place.
    Oh, okay. Maybe. So a little bit of mystery isn’t all bad. Right?
    “Can we go inside?” The breathy sound of my voice catches me by surprise. After all my years in New York, it takes a lot to enchant me. Guess what? Kashmir’s done it—and in the dark, no less. Can’t wait until I take a look at this strange new world in the daylight.
    “Yes, miss,” Robert says. “We care for your luggage. Go. Go in. You will like it.”
    I do, I do! The houseboat’s interior takes my breath away. A posh living room, its intricate walls made up of carved wooden panels, spreads out before me. It’s much bigger than I would’ve expected from the outside, bigger than Aunt Weeby’s parlor back home. Two half-moon sofas, overstuffed and cushy looking, wear ultrarich red wool upholstery and fill the two corners at the far end of the room, one on either side of the entrance to the dining room beyond. A cabriole-legged coffee table stands before each of the sofas, and all the furniture sits on a thick ivory carpet—no stains. Even on a boat.
    Wow!
    Then I look up. The ceiling is rich with more exquisite carvings that give it a texture like that of the quilted silk-satin bedding at Saks—out of my price range, that’s for sure.
    When I spot the pièce de résistance, I feel as though someone has just plunked me down into the set of The King and I . Suspended from that faboo ceiling hangs the most graceful chandelier I’ve ever seen—and I’ve lived in New York, capisce ? Golden branches hold crystal lotus petals, lit from within, to form a cluster of