They’ve anointed her best friend already. She is asked to settle disputes, to explain mysteries, to exercise her authority as a local. Their high spirits infect her. She slips into the role of a much-loved aunt easily—much preferable to excommunicated sister—reveling in the ready intimacy that she’s rarely felt before with the children of her friends.

“How would it be,” she exclaims, surprising herself, “if I take tomorrow off and show the children around San Francisco?”

The table thumps to a halt. The children look at their parents, their parents look at each other.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tahera says, “Your father must decide.”

Ismail is clearly reluctant. The children immediately train their entreaties at him: they were promised the sights! They clutch at his arms. When he finally agrees, the children erupt in celebration. Seema realizes that, like Amina, she too has been holding her breath.

But the next morning, waiting in the lobby of the Fairmont Hotel to pick up the children, Seema feels only anxiety. What caprice has she yielded to? Here’s Tahera stepping out of the elevator, clad head to toe in rigorous black—black hijab, black jilbab, black shoes. Clutching her mother’s hand, Amina is in a pink dress embroidered with white flowers, a pink sweater, pink-and-white shoes, and a matching pink hijab framing her face and flowing over her shoulders. Arshad trails after them, in blue jeans, a tan fleece pullover, and white Adidas shoes, but on his head today: a white prayer cap.

Ismail has already left for his meeting, Tahera says, and she’s late for her session. She hands Seema a booster seat for Amina, gives her a few instructions—Don’t spoil the kids!—warns her children not to pester their aunt, and hurries away.

“Shall we go?” Seema asks, but the children continue to stand there, the intimacy of the previous day forgotten. To break the ice again, Seema lists the treats she’s planned for them: the aquarium, the exploratorium, the Golden Gate Bridge, ice cream.

Seema has picked right: the exploratorium excites Arshad, and he’s ready to make that the first stop. But Amina is not won over yet. She hugs her booster seat to herself, eyes scanning the lobby for her mother, resisting Arshad’s efforts to steer her toward the doors. Arshad lures her with the promise of visiting the aquarium first and makes a big fuss over the car—how like a toy it is!

It’s Fiaz’s Mini Cooper actually, borrowed for the day, since Seema has sold her car, like she’s sold or given away almost everything that reminds her of her life with Bill. She’s thankful Arshad can install the booster seat, since she knows next to nothing about it.

All formality evaporates as soon as they climb into the car and head out to the aquarium, down one of the steepest slopes in San Francisco. Amina closes her eyes and squeals. Arshad begs they do it again. Seema obliges, going around the block to repeat the same vertiginous descent. The car is filled with shrieks and laughter as they roller-coaster their way down to the Wharf.