Sun shone on the sandstone surfaces of the elegant hotel buildings, and a light breeze ruffled the rows of majestic palm trees. “Your phone’s ringing,” Celia, his brother Salim’s wife, called from beside the pool, where she was relaxing with Sara, the wife of his brother Elan. They’d just eaten a leisurely poolside breakfast and were planning a day of relaxation on the nearby beach. Quasar was soaking wet and bouncing his three-year-old niece, Hannah, on his shoulders. “I doubt it’s anything important. I’m taking a break from business.” “Throw me!” Little Hannah could yell surprisingly loud for such a small human. “I can’t. You can’t swim.” She’d watched him tossing her cousin and was desperate to join in the fun. He ducked down and almost dunked her, then rose up fast, making her scream. “You’re so good with kids. You should have some.” Sara sipped her nonalcoholic cocktail.
