“Jose Alexandre Davis-Reyes. We call him Zé.” Her eyes were bright and she took a fortifying swallow of her drink. “I can’t paint him as the villain in the story. We’ve been close a long time. He was the first friend I made in Rio. He helped turn things around for me. Helped me lift my head up and look in the mirror again. He was there when I got the news my father died.”

Kennet passed her his handkerchief. He felt similar to the way he felt when Astrid’s train pulled into Clayton—like he was standing on the precipice of his entire life. Except this time, it was her life as well, spread out before him like the open pages of a book.

You have a stake in this story, he thought. Cliché or not, take what’s written here seriously. Take what she puts in your hands and hold it carefully.

He pushed emotions to the side, lit more cigarettes, and listened.

Zé Davis-Reyes was born in Washington, DC, the son of a Brazilian diplomat and an American mother. His father had been personal secretary to Joaquin Nabuco, the first ambassador from Brazil to the United States.

Zé’s mother was a Davis, of the Philadelphia and St. Petersburg Davises. Her uncle, the publisher F.A. Davis, founded the city of Pinellas Park on the Gulf Coast of Florida.

“So those are the ‘friends’ in Florida,” Kennet said. “Where your mother is staying right now.”

Astrid nodded. “Zé’s family has a house on Snell Isle. They divide their time between Brazil and the States.”

“Is Zé in publishing, too?”

“He works for Assis Chateaubriand at Rádio Tupi.”

The names meant nothing to Kennet, but radio, damn, that was something. Radio was the soundtrack of Kennet’s life. Not just music but news, stories and sports. Nothing was anything until you heard it on the radio.

He almost envied the guy.

“You want another drink?” he asked.

“No, I’ll fall out of my shoes. Just something soft.”

She went to powder her nose, and Kennet asked Major for two quinines.

“Everything all right?” Major said, garnishing the drinks with lemon and lime. “You two look like you’re plotting murder.”

“We are,” Kennet said.

“Excellent. Can I assist?”

“We have it under control, but we may need some bodies buried later.”

“You know where to find me.”

Astrid came back, and it was as if intermission had ended and the curtain went up on a new act.

“So your mother considers you officially engaged,” Kennet said. “You do not. What does Zé officially consider you?”

“He wants to marry me,” Astrid said. “His family wants it, too. But Zé isn’t stupid. He knows my mother’s motivations. He hasn’t officially proposed and he won’t until…”

“Until?”

She explained it was Zé who insisted Astrid take this trip, before they entertained the idea of getting engaged.