“Tell us about her, Danny,” said Sushmita, smiling slyly at me now. “Did she break your heart, or did you break hers?”

I blushed. “No broken hearts. It was a brief thing.” My plan to impress Sushmita was failing miserably. “But she arranged for my position here.”

I stopped, recalling Harlan’s admonition about giving too much information. About letting my tongue get ahead of my mind. Had I just let them both know that my job was actually not in the crapper? I tacked quickly the other way to correct my mistake.

“Of course, she couldn’t save my job when Frank sacked me. She can’t appear partial.”

Dinner came and went with no more talk of my horrible lie about Kate. What had I been thinking? Smearing her name to pass myself off as a man of the world? I must have come across as a jerk. Sushmita was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out my attempts at self-aggrandizement. She’d seen right through me.

“All that is in the past,” said Willy. “They will regret sacking you, I’m sure. But the question now is what will you do next?”

“Something new,” I said. “Maybe learn the import-export business.”

Willy chuckled. “My dear Danny Boy, what do you know about imports? About exports? About business? You’re a smart young man, but your training has been in journalism. Perhaps you should look there first.”

“At least let me help around here,” I said, careful not to press too hard. “There must be some way I can repay your hospitality.”

“You mean like beat the rugs and mop the floors?” he asked with a broad smile.

“I could run errands for you. Post office, research at the library, write correspondence? I’m good at those things.”

“Please, Danny Boy. You should know that you are a welcome guest here. You don’t need to earn your keep.”

I dropped it there, heeding Harlan’s advice. But I didn’t know how long I could go on staying in his—Sushmita’s—house with nothing to do. Living so close to her would also be difficult. I was already longing for her touch or something as simple as a relaxed, intimate conversation with her. Knowing those things were out of the question was hell.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sushmita scolded me later when we had a brief moment alone in the drawing room. “You’re not a servant. Stop this farce right now.”

I didn’t get the chance to answer—not that I had any explanation I could share with her—as Willy returned to the room with a glass of juice for Sushmita. Any annoyance that had been apparent on her face vanished, replaced by an easy smile, not too bright, not forced. I could learn from her.