The Cairo Codex Read Online Free PDF Page B

light green sweater, gray linen slacks, and flats. Damp chestnut ringlets surrounded her face. With a small purse and jacket in hand, she descended the stairs to the lobby, exchanged money at the desk, and turned toward the restaurant known as The Caravan. The old Shepheard did not have a monopoly on ornate beauty, she realized. Chandeliers of amber glass reflected on richly carved wood known as mashrabaya, accented with lines of exquisite arabesque lettering. Gothic arches and flourishing palms towered over marble floors, and lamps shaped like lotuses lit the room. Above, a marble balcony circled the eastern side of the room, serving as counterpoint to the huge windows overlooking the Corniche and the Nile to the west.
    “Feeling better?” Nadia asked, walking up behind her.
    “Much, yes. Thank you,” she replied, turning toward the older woman, who was loaded down with a covered basket and satchel heavy with food and bottled juices.
    Nadia stood several inches shorter than Justine’s 5’8”, so her bundles nearly touched the ground. Justine took the heavier one and followed her toward the entrance.
    “Impossible to park close by,” said Nadia. “But the felucca is directly across the Corniche.” A policeman volunteered to escort them across the busy street and onto the wide sidewalk that lined the river for miles in either direction. “This is one of the main meeting places for Cairenes at night. It’s exquisite in the early evening when cool breezes blow in from the northwest.”
    Justine could feel the welcome breeze against her face, slightly ruffling her long hair, drying the ringlets in place. Several couples strolled by hand-in-hand while young girls wove through the crowd selling garlands of jasmine. Justine handed two Egyptian pounds to one of them and bent down while the girl of six or seven placed a garland around her neck. She handed a second garland to Nadia. “
Gameel
,
Gameel awee
,
very beautiful
,” said Justine, touching the child’s ivory cheek. The sweet smell of jasmine merged into the tantalizing aroma of corn roasting on a homemade grill built into half of a tin barrel, split lengthwise and balanced on wheels.
    “Hello there!” Nadia cried, waving as the two women descended the steps from the Corniche to the shore of the river and the moored feluccas. The odor of dead fish momentarily entered Justine’s nostrils, but was quickly masked by the fragrance of gardenias growing at the bases of towering date palms. “Justine, meet Magda Shehata and Amir El Shabry.”
    With their dark good looks, Magda and Amir could have been sister and brother. Magda was striking: lustrous black shoulder-length hair, eyelashes like little Chinese fans, and an eagerly warm demeanor. A classic Egyptian beauty. She took Justine’s hand and pulled her toward her, kissing her on both cheeks.
    Amir was handsome in that mysterious Arab way, although with a distracted expression and cool eyes. His handshake was limp, a little clammy. He clearly didn’t want to be here.
Then why is he here? A favor to Nadia?
    Nadia finalized arrangements with the manager of the small fleet, then stepped adroitly across the wide bow of one felucca and into their assigned vessel. She nodded to Amir to follow. Amir stood, one foot on each rocking boat, and gripped the forearms of Magda and Justine in turn as they navigated the unsteady course.
    The felucca was just as Justine remembered: a large, worn wooden boat with padded benches encircling a table in the middle. On the bow, a large mast was wrapped tight with the furled sail. An elderly man in kaftan and turban squatted on the bow talking to a young man in Western dress. The cherrytinted sun dropped behind the western skyline as lights around the river and on the island of Zamalek released the glow of evening.
    Justine felt the warmth of bygone pleasures. The last time she’d been on a felucca was with her parents.
We were still a family then, or at least I was young enough to