Chapter 12

My phone rang as we exited the exhibit hall.

Nariya had paled a bit when the gaggle of djinni surrounding us evaporated as we walked through the doors. The ringing of my phone seemed to bring her back. I was grateful. Carrying her to her office had been an effort. I had no idea how far away, or even where, the first aid station was in the Convention Center.

It was Warren.

"Uh, Dad..."

"You're going to be working late, and you were wondering if..."

"How'd you know?"

"I'm psychic. I'm also your parent, as you every so often choose to remind me. And, once upon a time, long, long ago, in a far, far away land, I was twelve, once."

"I'm willing to believe the second but I've got serious doubts about the third. Anyway, Kumar and I are behind schedule..."

"We covered that already."

"Would you let me finish? And it's OK with Rajiv that I stay over in their guest room and that we work all evening and then we finish up in the morning and then I'd be home mid-afternoon or something like that."

"I forgot to check. Is your homework all done?"

"Dad, I'm twelve, they still go easy on that. I finished it up on Friday, and we checked and Kumar got all the same answers that I did, except in English. Rajiv went to Oxford or something, so Kumar tries to copy his dad's style."

"So we'd see you Sunday. Let me talk with Rajiv."

"Sure."

Rajiv's voice could boom over the telephone. "So how does freedom feel?"

"I had about two minutes of it. Lisa showed up just after you and Sanjit took off." Lisa slugged me in the arm. Not hard, but painful.

"Congratulations. But I hate losing my banker. When's the wedding?"

We hadn't announced anything. Well, we had told Nariya. So, how had he reached that conclusion? Were we that obvious? Or just that oblivious? "We're still trying to figure that one out."

"And now you're dumping your kid on me so you two can have a lover's night out."

I could hear his grin as he continued. "As Sanjit would say, 'you degenerate Americans.' Where did you find that one? If I had a dozen like him we could pass Merck in five years."

He laughed. "I'll make sure that Warren gets home tomorrow afternoon. Have fun."

May's house was easy enough to find. Charlotte came out and reminded us that we didn't need to pick Sarah up until at least eight on Sunday, so they could finish dinner.

I looked at Lisa. "Well, what do we do with rest of our free afternoon?"

She laughed. "I forget that you're a parent, and now that you've got your kids we won't get time alone too often. We'll have to fix that. So, we could head home... or we could do that after dinner. Gwen muttered something about my needing a trim, so I'll call her next week. On the other hand, you need to look like something other than recycled engineer. You're my recycled engineer, but you should look like a banker. Naah, no, not really a banker, someone who can buy and sell bankers... and Don Corleone. I get it, let's do Nordstrom while I'm in a shopping mood. Except for the makeup lady, most of the folks at that wedding show couldn't sell ice cubes to Eskimos, uh, to the Amazon, uh, in the Amazon, uh, dammit, on the Amazon. Whatever. Anyway, you know what I mean."

Lisa got a kiss for that.

We headed up the freeway.

"Bedding. You need bedding. What is that stuff that we're sleeping on?"

"I think it's cotton. Or mostly cotton. Cotton something. I got it on sale."

"And it's going. Tonight. There are times that I don't always have you between me and the mattress. Do the djinni deliver?"

"I guess so. I didn't have to go anywhere to pick up Sarah's iPod."

"Good. I could never get into carrying an armload of stuff out to the car. Even now that I have you to carry it."

Lisa got another kiss for that.

We picked out way through the bedding section. Lisa ran the display samples over her cheek.

"I'd really rather test them where I'm actually going to lie on them, but it's not really nice to do that in the store."

Lisa got another kiss for that. I was handing out rewards freely.

"Now, it's time to fix your appearance." She grabbed my hand. "This is going to be painless. Watch."

She led me to the women's clothing section. Lisa saw the confusion registered on my face.

"Trust me, dear. This is the easiest way."

An well-dressed woman glided out from between the gondolas. Confusion and concern registered on her face.

"Oh, hi, Lisa. You were in only six weeks ago. Is there a problem?"

"It's not me, it's him. He needs to look seriously, uh, executive. It's makeover time."

"So why here? Don't you want to take him over to menswear?"

"No, I want you to take him over to menswear. He's not a GQ model, and he joined the bank yesterday. So I need him to look like that. You know. It's imperative that he look like your idea of an executive, not some salesman's concept out of GQ. When he walks in, the first four seconds have to leave them weak in the knees. Before he opens his mouth. Or mine."

"Ah, you know the store." She extended her hand to me. "My name's Stacy, and I'll be your saleswoman today." She produced a business card. "And I hope to be your saleswoman in the future."

Lisa waved the card away. "You haven't changed your number, have you?"

"No."

"Then I've got it."

I looked at Lisa.

Lisa had her Cheshire cat grin. "She's allowed to sell anything that's in the store. And she spends Saturdays trolling for clients. She solved my shopping problem eight years ago."

Stacy turned to Lisa. "What's his budget?"

"It's the bank. He needs a new wardrobe for around here, and he needs something for overseas. They're a bit more, uh, old world over there in, uh, the Old World. And he needs to look good by, well, Wednesday. We don't have anything scheduled for Monday, and Tuesday one of his friends gets sworn in as a citizen, so we can go in whatever."

Stacy smiled. I guessed that this was going to be a very good day for her. The salesmen in menswear looked daggers at her. She flashed them a happy smile.

In short order I had five new sport jackets, seven pair of new slacks, three new pair of shoes, four new suits, and seventeen new silk ties. And twenty-four silk dress shirts and a dozen fine Egyptian cotton ones. ("I'm sorry, honey, but those button-down business shirts just don't go with the new you.")

Lisa signed for it all. You could buy a new Corolla for what we spent. "That will get us started. Can we pick everything up on Wednesday?"

"Wednesday? Yes, we can have the alterations done by then. Come in, try everything on, and we can send you home with what fits."

Lisa looked at Stacy. "If we forgot anything, add it to the pile and we'll look at it when we come in." The salesman lurking in the background perked up. Stacy might let him collect the commission on new underwear and socks. I revised my estimate upwards, to a new Solara.

Lisa grinned. "See? I told you. Painless. Every couple of months I call her and she's picked out a selection for me and all I have to do is say 'yes' or 'no.' Fast, easy, and I don't have to pick bits of salescreature out of my teeth."

Stacy was humming a quiet tune. She smiled at Lisa. "You seem to have moved up in world, too. Come in early on Wednesday and I'll have an upgrade waiting for you."

Lisa nodded. "OK." I revised my estimate upwards yet again. Serious college payment territory. Or maybe the five percent down payment on a Silicon Valley house.

She grinned. "Now, dinner? One of my clients told me about a great place in Sunnyvale."

"Mustafa's Lebanese" was in the back corner of a run-down strip mall off El Camino where Sunnyvale meets Santa Clara. A very-well dressed crowd for the neighborhood milled about on the sidewalk in front of the doors.

"It may be a bit of a wait. The proprietor only lets in who he wants to let in, and he doesn't chase you out as soon as you're finished. And some nights they have belly dancers with a live band."

A short round man in an open-necked shirt stepped out of the doors and scanned the crowd and the parking lot. With a fez on his head, he would have fit into a picture from Turkey at the turn of the last century.

"That's Mustafa."

An older man came out of the restaurant, and spoke with Mustafa. Mustafa nodded. The older man looked out over the parking lot again, then spotted us. He came over to us, throwing up his hands in greeting.

"Lisa. So nice to see you."

She got the Oriental greeting hug and the ceremonial kiss on each cheek.

"And this is..."

"Herb. He's my fiancé."

He turned to greet me. "Hello, I'm Ayman." We shook hands.

He turned back to Lisa. "You're getting married? Are you leaving the bank?"

Lisa smiled. "Yes, I'm getting married. No, I'm not leaving the bank. Herb is joining us, and I'll probably be giving up my clients."

"So Nariya will be picking out a new banker for me? Tell her that they will have to be shorter. You, I can talk to. Her, she's too tall. Now, come join us for dinner."

Lisa started to protest. "We can wait."

"No, I insist. Come."

He grabbed us both by the wrist. Mustafa parted the murmuring crowd and held the door open for us as we stepped inside.

The interior was as ornate as the exterior was decrepit. The room was broken up with intricate archways. Chandeliers filled with twinkling lights gave a warm glow to the room. Two low, carpeted alcoves along one wall were filled with diners lounging on large pillows.

"Come, come. I am having my family together for dinner. My daughters and their husbands. All here, except for my second. Her husband, you know he is a professor of mechanical engineering at Hayward. Brilliant man. Except he can get lost going from one end of the parking lot to the other. That is why we go outside to watch for him."

He led us through the ranks of tables to one of the alcoves. A row of women lounged on one side of a low table laid on the carpet. A row of men lounged on the other side.

Ayman turned to me and laughed. "I'm a traditionalist. We come here, we have dinner in the traditional style." He turned to Lisa. "You've met my daughters." His introduction of us was general. "This is Lisa, my banker. And this is her fiancé." He looked at his daughters. "See, she can get married, too." Lisa blushed. He turned back to me. "Lisa is why four of my girls went to law school. Thank God there are doctors and professors who are happy to have a lawyer for a wife. Otherwise I would be supporting six spinsters."

"Poppa..." The protests sailed across the table.

Ayman turned to us. "Come, wash your hands, and sit."

Lisa started to protest again.

Ayman was firm. "This is family-style. Mustafa is roasting a kid for us. Two more feasting, it makes little difference. He will be bringing vegetables for us until we are all sated, anyway. With a dozen people, what is two more?"