She met him near the gate. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore no makeup. She was in her house clothes: flowing black silk slacks and a black, collarless tunic. But despite her casual dress she was openly delighted to see him. She smiled warmly through her blackened teeth, taking his right hand in both of hers and pulling him gently toward the house.

“Chao Ong, Cong Ly,” she said, speaking only Vietnamese. “You haven’t visited us for so long! Where have you been?”

“Chao Ba Tho,” he answered, following her into the house and shifting completely to Vietnamese as well. “I’m very sorry, but I have been constantly on the road. First, in Quang Nam with your husband. Then Hawaii. And after that, Australia. I returned only this morning.”

“Too busy!” They had entered the house and reached the dim-lit sitting room. She offered him a chair at their greeting table, pulling it out for him. “All for business?”

“Yes,” he said, taking the seat and suddenly sensing that Van had something to do with her question. “Only for business.”

“You work too hard, Cong Ly. You must find some time for relaxation now that you are back.” She left it at that, but her face held a knowing look. “May I get you some tea?”

“Thank you.”

“Van is upstairs,” she said as she walked out of the room. “I will get her for you.”

Her announcement jolted him, a sudden reminder that he had two differing relationships inside their home, each of which might threaten the other if handled poorly. It was urgent that he meet with Colonel Pham and that he keep the older man’s confidence. And yet Mrs. Pham was right to think that his unannounced arrival at their home on a Sunday would have been motivated more by her daughter’s beauty than the need to talk business with her husband.

Within seconds he heard shuffling feet and a quick, whispering exchange in the hallway, just around the corner where the family altar stood. He turned toward the noise and saw Colonel Pham walking into the greeting room. Condley stood to greet him, but the colonel motioned him back into his seat with both hands.

“No! No, sit, Cong Ly. You are my guest.”

The hard little man slapped him on one shoulder, a delighted smile on his face, and took a seat on the other side of the table. “Van is getting dressed,” he said, as if excusing his own presence. “But I have a little bit of news. Do you have time for a short discussion before she comes?”

“Of course,” said Condley, relieved to be taking the colonel’s cue. “In fact, I have some news for you as well.”

“Good.”