Jenna smiled in spite of herself. Imagine Malik, the old rule-breaker, now the rule-maker. Yet, it wasn’t so funny, not from the standpoint of her niece’s happiness.

She tried to think of something to say, something that didn’t sound pat and professional, something that would tell her niece she really cared. But nothing safe came to mind. “Maybe later, when we’re both freer,” was the best she could do.

“Could I have your phone number?” Laila asked suddenly. “I’d like to talk to you once in a while—if that’s okay.”

Jenna couldn’t resist. “Of course, it’s okay. Anytime. But will you promise to keep it just between the two of us?”

“Be, like, secret friends?” “Yes.”

Laila laughed. “Sure. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to run home and tell Papa about the lady who rescued me in Saks.”

Jenna laughed, too. “I never thought of it that way. So, have you decided on a college yet?” Anything to prolong the moment, the talk, the presence of her niece.

“Columbia. Papa’s been hinting he’d like me to go to the Sorbonne, but I’d much rather stay in New York. I love it here.”

Did Laila’s choice have just a little bit to do with her? Jenna wondered. It was a pleasant thought, a consolation prize.

They shared something called a Chocolate Crisis for dessert. When the last morsel was gone, there was no avoiding the fact that their time together was ending, too. The decision had been made. But Jenna’s heart pleaded for a reprieve, for a few minutes more.

“Shall we walk a bit?” she asked. She would miss her plane. Too bad. “Sure,” said Laila.

They strolled down Fifth Avenue, along Central Park. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, Jenna tried to pretend this wasn’t the last time she would see Laila. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe …

When they reached the Plaza, they hailed two taxis. “Well … ciao,” Laila said, trying to smile.

Forgetting caution, Jenna threw her arms around her niece and held her tight. “Good-bye,” she said. Good-bye, my dearest Laila.

32. Cameron

Cameron

The call came on a cool September night.

“Can you come over, Ms. Sorrel? Like right away?”

“What’s the matter, Josh?” His voice had changed so much she hadn’t recognized it for a moment.

“My dad kind of hurt my mom. He’s gone now, and she asked me to call you. I—can you hurry?”

Jenna did. At the Chandler house, she took one look at Carolyn’s face and went to the phone. Apparently, Cameron had forgotten his “little trick” of hitting where it didn’t show.

“What are you doing?” “Calling 911.”

“No.” Carolyn pulled the receiver from Jenna’s hand and hung it up.

“Carolyn, please try to understand. You may be badly hurt. You’re certainly in danger. Will he be back tonight?”