A Family Affair
That’s it. He holds my hand. Are you telling me you have no advice for me?”
    “I guess I don’t, Trish. What do the two of you talk about?”
    “Everything and nothing. Malik’s time in the States. His cave, where he goes to unwind and relax. He talked at great length about his father’s passing. He wasn’t ready ‘to step into his father’s sandals,’ as he put it. He thought he would have at least another thirty years of being a prince before he became a sheik. He said his father sent him to school in the States so he would learn business, because the oil is running out here and it yields only a six to eight percent return.
    “He needs to run this country commercially, and I guess he’s pretty good at it, to his own dismay. Everyone over here is concerned about the country’s prospects when the oil runs out. He said that Dubai would be doomed if his father hadn’t seen the handwriting on the wall earlier and put plans into motion for the country. Now he has to follow through on those plans.”
    “It sounds like he has a lot on his plate,” Connie observed.
    “He does. Soraya told me several days ago, just in passing, that Malik did not want to step into his father’s sandals, but he had no other choice. Here’s the kicker, Connie. Soraya would love the job, but since she’s a woman, that can’t be. The only way, according to Soraya, a woman could step in is if she was married to the sheik and he passed away. Only then could a woman, the wife, step in. I don’t know if that’s carved in stone or something Soraya just thinks could happen. Sometimes, to be perfectly frank, she’s a little ditzy. Can you imagine a life dedicated to shopping, massages, manicures, pedicures, facials, and having teas? That’s her whole life.
    “Soraya can be a bit of a spitfire, though. She refuses to marry any one of the men her father picked for her. Malik says she’s going to be an old maid if she doesn’t make up her mind soon. The flip side to that is there is no chance she can find a man, because she is not free to pick one and goes nowhere where she could find one. Secretly, I think she has a thing for Rashid.”
    “Sounds like palace intrigue to me. I miss you, Trish. The girls and I can’t wait to see you again. Let’s get together the moment you get back.”
    “Okay. Guess it’s time to go to sleep. Did I tell you they use pure silk sheets here, and they get changed every day? It’s hard not to get used to some things.”
    Connie laughed as they said good night.
    Trish curled up and tried to settle herself. Was she in love? How could she not love the kind, considerate, handsome man who had held her in his arms twice? A tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away, but then more tears flowed. In less than forty-eight hours, she would be on her way home.
    Since sleep was out of the question, Trish got up, put on a robe and slippers, and walked out to her own garden, where she sat down and smoked a cigarette. Then she smoked another, and still another, all the while crying and sniffling. She wished she had a strong drink, maybe two drinks. Anything to take away the pain she was feeling.
    Trish sat for a long time, the tears trickling down her cheeks. When she couldn’t stand sitting any longer, she got up and paced up and down the little paths until finally she thought maybe she could sleep.
    She didn’t see the many eyes that watched her, and she had no idea that the palace grapevine operated in the dead of night. Within minutes, Sheik Malik bin Al Mohammed was wakened and apprised that his guest was crying in the garden and smoking cigarettes. She had been doing so for hours, he was told.
    Alarmed at this strange news, Malik called in Rashid, then his sister, to demand an answer to his guest’s distress. Both Rashid and Soraya stared at Malik as if he had sprouted a second head, saying they had no clue as to what was wrong.
    Unsettled at being awakened in the middle of the night, Soraya fixed her

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