At the end of the year in which Prem had died, Keith was promoted to managing director, one of only four on the West Coast. He worried the position might have been a sympathy gift before remembering that no one in investment banking did anything out of sympathy. As a partner, Keith was expected to bring in new business and clients, and he discovered he loved the thrill of chasing a deal. The combination of his modest suburban upbringing, the entrepreneurial spirit bred into him by his father, and his name-brand MBA made him the kind of guy everyone could relate to. It brought him great satisfaction to know he’d brought in a big piece of a business for the firm, which would be reflected in his year-end bonus.

As the numbers accumulated on Keith’s mental balance sheet, it became a security blanket he could wrap around himself and his family. He hadn’t been able to protect Prem, he couldn’t bring him back, and he couldn’t spare his family the pain that had descended on them. But he could do this one thing—perhaps small or inconsequential—but he could at least do this and do it well. He could give his family a sense of financial security and well-being for the rest of their lives, something his own father had not been able to do.

14 | Karina

January 2010

Sitting at a school library computer, Karina smiled at her first semester report card and printed out the page to tuck into her backpack. She declined Izzy’s invitation to come over after school and enjoyed her bike ride home despite the light drizzle in the air. She had worked relentlessly all semester, and to actually accomplish what she’d put her mind to filled her with hope. She was eager to share the news with her parents. Good report cards had always been a cause for celebration in their house; perhaps this was a chance to recapture something that had been lost. Her mother had been getting out more lately, usually to go to the Hindu temple. She’d also begun practicing new customs at home: praying before breakfast, lighting incense sticks, cracking open a coconut each weekend.

As they waited for their usual Friday night pizza delivery, Mom tossed a salad with dressing while Dad poured two glasses of wine and opened a bottle of ginger ale for Karina. Karina pulled the page out of her backpack and slid it across the kitchen island toward her parents. Her father picked it up and looked at her, a smile forming on his lips.

“Wow, look at this.” He showed the paper to Mom. “Karina’s report card. She totally kicked ass.”

Mom gave him a weary glance but didn’t remark on his language, then looked down at the page on the counter as she continued tossing the salad.

“Straight A’s out of the gate in high school,” Dad said, beaming now. “Who does that? Amazing.”

“A-plus in biology.” Mom made an effort to smile, though the sadness never really left her eyes. “That’s great, honey.”