He went to the shelves, searched the books, then pulled one down and walked back to her.

What is it?

Go ahead.

She looked at the cover: The Conference of Birds by Farid ud-Din Attar. She opened the first page.

I thought you might be interested because—he shrugged—the birds.

She laughed drily.

Well, it’s not exactly ornithological, he said. But the main character is, what do you call it…a hopi.

Hoopoe, she corrected. A coraciiform.

He gave her a questioning look. She waved a hand dismissively.

It’s nothing, she muttered. Just taxonomy.

Oh, he said. Anyhow. The Attar is a Sufi story, an allegory. You might find it, I don’t know…amusing. I’m not familiar with this translation, however, and Attar is not the real master.

Who’s the real master?

Pars’s face lit up.

Hafiz.

He gestured to the bookcases. Alas, he said, there is no Hafiz.

She thanked him and closed the cover of the book. They could hear the ocean outside. Ana laid a hand on her neck and looked uneasily toward the open windows.

Are you okay? he asked.

I think I need a drink.

Mrs. Liang?

Everything. She shrugged.

I saw a bottle of gin on the kitchen table, he said and raised an eyebrow.

We can attempt a martini, Ana said.

I wouldn’t know how, he confessed.

We’ll need vermouth to start. And olives.

I’m not very good at drinks, he admitted.

I can see that. Come—she waved—there’s got to be vermouth somewhere in the house.

She tucked the book in her back pocket, and Pars followed her out of the library. They went through the darkened halls. The lamps were out in the dining room. She found the switch in the kitchen and flooded the room with overhead light. A bottle of Gilbey’s sat alone on the stainless-steel counter.

Should we ask Kevin? Pars inquired.

He’s probably asleep, Ana said. I’m sure we can find some vermouth.

She checked the shelves by the stove. Cooking wines, sherry. Olive oil. She went into the pantry and searched among large vinegar bottles, fish sauce, sacks of sugar.

Maybe we should look at the bar, Pars suggested from the other room.

Ana peeked her head around the corner.

Why didn’t I think of that?

I don’t know, he said.