all over the place.’
Deborah made a little moue of distaste. ‘What a combination!’ she exclaimed. ‘Stuffy, and unsteady with it. It should be an easy mixture to resist.’
‘If you want to,’ Maxine sighed. ‘Only where Roger’s concerned, I don’t want to try!’
Deborah blanked Roger out of her mind with an effort. She wasn’t going to be given the chance to resist him. He had been quite clear about that! Maxine was welcome to him!
The sherbet was pale pink, very sweet, and smelt of roses. Deborah wished she had followed her first instinct and ordered coffee, but it was too late now, so she swallowed down the drink as fast as she could, wondering as she did so how Maxine could relish such a sickly taste. The American girl however, sipped her sherbet with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.
‘We’re being watched,’ she told Deborah. ‘Do you think he’s curious, or interested?’
Deborah’s eyes met those of the man in one of the mirrors on the wall. She expected him to look away, but he did nothing of the sort. Her expression changed to one of indignation, but he was quite unimpressed by her obvious displeasure. Slowly, almost languidly, he rose to his feet and came over to the two girls.
‘I am Dr. Reza Mahdevi,’ he introduced himself as he gained their table. ‘I think you are American, no?’
‘No,’ Deborah said, rather more curtly than she had intended.
‘I’m an American,’ Maxine chimed in.
The man smiled. ‘I have seen you here before,’ he told her. ‘I hoped you might be an American. My mother is an American also.’
‘Oh, really?’ Maxine was delighted. ‘Sit down and tell us all about her,’ she invited. ‘Does she live in America?’
‘She lives in our family home in one of the villages close by Shiraz.’ His gaze encompassed Maxine with obvious approval. ‘I thought at first you were a tourist on a brief visit to Shiraz, but I have seen you several times now over a space of about three weeks. I began to hope you had come to live among us?’
‘My brother is on an exchange at the university,’ Maxine told him. ‘I’m Maxine Reinhardt, and this is my friend Deborah Day.’
Dr. Mahdevi bowed to Deborah with a faint smile. ‘Miss Day must be British since she is not American? I hope you are enjoying your visit to Iran?’
‘Very much.’ He was nice, Deborah thought. She liked the way he held himself and the way he had checked his obvious admiration for Maxine from becoming too apparent.
‘That is good. You must forgive my coming over to speak to you without an invitation. My mother’s need must be my excuse. Now my father is dead there are few people close to her who can converse with her in her own language. It would give her great pleasure if you would agree to visit our home while you are here and talk to her about America—and Britain too, of course?’
‘Why, we’d love that!’ Maxine enthused.
Dr. Mahdevi looked inquiringly at Deborah. ‘And will you love it too?’ he asked with an inquiring look in his dark eyes.
‘If you think it will give your mother any pleasure,’ Deborah acknowledged. ‘But I expect she speaks Farsi very well by now—’
‘And the Turkish dialect of the Qashgai tribes to which my family belongs.’ He smiled at her surprise.
‘It is a long time since we travelled back and forth with our animals as most of our people do, but my grandfather used to do so. Even now we are settled, our lands are open to those of our people who still travel. We are proud to think we still belong to them.’
‘The Qashgai who make carpets?’
Dr. Mahdevi nodded. ‘Are you interested in carpets, Miss Day? My mother is very keen to market the products of the Qashgai on a more businesslike basis than is being done at present. But she will tell you all about that herself.’
Deborah’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘Then yes, please, I’d love to meet your mother. You see, I’m part-owner of a shop in London
Deborah made a little moue of distaste. ‘What a combination!’ she exclaimed. ‘Stuffy, and unsteady with it. It should be an easy mixture to resist.’
‘If you want to,’ Maxine sighed. ‘Only where Roger’s concerned, I don’t want to try!’
Deborah blanked Roger out of her mind with an effort. She wasn’t going to be given the chance to resist him. He had been quite clear about that! Maxine was welcome to him!
The sherbet was pale pink, very sweet, and smelt of roses. Deborah wished she had followed her first instinct and ordered coffee, but it was too late now, so she swallowed down the drink as fast as she could, wondering as she did so how Maxine could relish such a sickly taste. The American girl however, sipped her sherbet with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.
‘We’re being watched,’ she told Deborah. ‘Do you think he’s curious, or interested?’
Deborah’s eyes met those of the man in one of the mirrors on the wall. She expected him to look away, but he did nothing of the sort. Her expression changed to one of indignation, but he was quite unimpressed by her obvious displeasure. Slowly, almost languidly, he rose to his feet and came over to the two girls.
‘I am Dr. Reza Mahdevi,’ he introduced himself as he gained their table. ‘I think you are American, no?’
‘No,’ Deborah said, rather more curtly than she had intended.
‘I’m an American,’ Maxine chimed in.
The man smiled. ‘I have seen you here before,’ he told her. ‘I hoped you might be an American. My mother is an American also.’
‘Oh, really?’ Maxine was delighted. ‘Sit down and tell us all about her,’ she invited. ‘Does she live in America?’
‘She lives in our family home in one of the villages close by Shiraz.’ His gaze encompassed Maxine with obvious approval. ‘I thought at first you were a tourist on a brief visit to Shiraz, but I have seen you several times now over a space of about three weeks. I began to hope you had come to live among us?’
‘My brother is on an exchange at the university,’ Maxine told him. ‘I’m Maxine Reinhardt, and this is my friend Deborah Day.’
Dr. Mahdevi bowed to Deborah with a faint smile. ‘Miss Day must be British since she is not American? I hope you are enjoying your visit to Iran?’
‘Very much.’ He was nice, Deborah thought. She liked the way he held himself and the way he had checked his obvious admiration for Maxine from becoming too apparent.
‘That is good. You must forgive my coming over to speak to you without an invitation. My mother’s need must be my excuse. Now my father is dead there are few people close to her who can converse with her in her own language. It would give her great pleasure if you would agree to visit our home while you are here and talk to her about America—and Britain too, of course?’
‘Why, we’d love that!’ Maxine enthused.
Dr. Mahdevi looked inquiringly at Deborah. ‘And will you love it too?’ he asked with an inquiring look in his dark eyes.
‘If you think it will give your mother any pleasure,’ Deborah acknowledged. ‘But I expect she speaks Farsi very well by now—’
‘And the Turkish dialect of the Qashgai tribes to which my family belongs.’ He smiled at her surprise.
‘It is a long time since we travelled back and forth with our animals as most of our people do, but my grandfather used to do so. Even now we are settled, our lands are open to those of our people who still travel. We are proud to think we still belong to them.’
‘The Qashgai who make carpets?’
Dr. Mahdevi nodded. ‘Are you interested in carpets, Miss Day? My mother is very keen to market the products of the Qashgai on a more businesslike basis than is being done at present. But she will tell you all about that herself.’
Deborah’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘Then yes, please, I’d love to meet your mother. You see, I’m part-owner of a shop in London
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