“She didn’t mention it. But at least she saved your belt. I believe Govind put it back in your room.”

We walked a little farther, and she asked me if I had any ideas of what to do about Chhotu.

“It seems there are two options. Either we pay him or we challenge him to rat us out to Willy.”

“There’s a third option,” she said looking down at the footpath as she went. “We kill him.”

I smiled despite our predicament. And then I wondered if she was serious. I offered a fourth idea.

“We can run off together.”

She laughed. “Mad or what? And leave him in my house? My houses? Where will I stay?”

“Your bungalow in Lonavala. You said he doesn’t know about it.”

“Danny, I’m not ceding two valuable properties to him. Besides, what would we live on? I have very little income, in case you thought I was rich.”

“But the houses?”

“Not liquid, are they?”

We walked a spell in silence, then I asked her about the three properties.

“My great-grandfather built the Poona house and the one in Lonavala. The penthouse, my father bought shortly before he died. I inherited the lot.”

“I’ve got my salary,” I said meekly.

She stopped and looked me in the eye. “Sweet Danny. That’s kind of you, but I’m afraid—”

“Of course you can accept it. We’ll be together.”

“No, I was going to say we’d never survive on your salary. Please don’t insist. I’ll keep thinking of what’s to be done. And you do the same.”

We had coffee in the German Bakery on North Main Road and agreed to talk about anything but our troubles. I told her our time together should be happy. She said nothing, but the skepticism was clear on her face.

She wanted to hear more about me, my family, my life in the States. I knew she didn’t like to talk about herself. She’d warned me twice not to ask about her father.

“My dad’s a law professor,” I said. “Retired. He’s had some health problems in recent years.” I paused to consider how to say what came next. “He’s … older than my mother. She’s a pediatrician.”

Sush sipped her coffee and grinned naughtily at me. “How much older?”

Growing up, I’d always felt uncomfortable discussing this very topic with my friends. Or whenever Dad came to my baseball games or picked me up from school. I loved the guy, of course. He was kind and gentle, brilliant, loving, and generous to all. I admired his politics. Despite his successful career and a knack for investments that paid off, he remained a fierce liberal. He believed in the brotherhood of man and defended the poor, the black, the brown, and everyone in between, both in court and in society.