Free A Bitter Veil by Libby Fischer Hellmann Page A

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    Nouri’s father leaned forward. “Your travels were satisfactory, I hope?”
    “Long, but fine,” Anna said.
    “If you are tired, you must nap.” He spoke English with a crisp British accent.
    “I never sleep during the day. I’ll go to bed early.”
    Parvin offered Anna a glass of tea. She took it carefully. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Samedi.”
    “Oh, but you must call us Maman-joon and Baba-joon,” Nouri’s father said with a smile.
    “Dear Mother and Father,” Nouri explained.
    Anna nodded shyly. Then, “Oh, that reminds me.” She put down her tea, got up from the couch, and went to the stairs.
    “Where are you going?” Nouri asked.
    “You’ll see.”
    She climbed the stairs back up to her room. The servant was almost finished unpacking. That was a problem, Anna thought. She had no idea where the woman had stored her things. She flipped up her hands in a questioning gesture, then realized the servant had no idea what she was after. She tried to sketch a box in the air with her fingers.
    “The present. The gift,” she said. “Where is it?”
    The servant shook her head. Anna searched the room. She didn’t see it. She knew she’d packed it in her big duffel. Then she opened the door to the closet. There it was on the top shelf: a pale blue box with a dark blue ribbon. She reached for it, but the shelf was too high. The servant was taller and retrieved it.
    “Khayli mamnoon. ” Thank you very much. It was one of the few Farsi expressions Anna knew.
    The woman dipped her head. “ Khâhesh meekonam .” You’re welcome.
    Anna took the box back downstairs and handed it to Nouri’s mother. “This is for you, Maman-joon.”
    Nouri’s parents exchanged glances.
    “Open it,” Nouri said.
    Anna watched as Parvin opened the box. She had obsessed over the gift for weeks. It couldn’t be too lavish, but it couldn’t be cheap or shoddy. She’d finally settled on a pair of Lalique crystal candlesticks. They’d cost a small fortune. She hoped it was an appropriate choice. “I know the name Nouri means light. As his wife, I hope to bring a bit more light into your lives. I am honored to be part of your family.”
    Nouri’s father translated. Parvin examined the candlesticks carefully. A slight frown furrowed her forehead. She spoke in Farsi.
    “What did she say?” Anna asked nervously.
    Nouri translated. “She said she can’t accept them.”
    Anna’s stomach flipped over. “What do you mean? Why not?”
    “Maman says they are beautiful. So beautiful we should keep them for ourselves.”
    “But it is a gift for her,” Anna said. “Tell her.”
    Nouri did, but Parvin shook her head.
    “Please…” Anna’s stomach tightened into a knot of anxiety. “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong? Doesn’t she like me?”
    Nouri’s father barked out something in Farsi. Parvin answered him. They went back and forth. Bijan had the last word. It sounded decisive. Then Parvin looked at Anna. “Okay,” she said in broken English. “Is okay.”
    “What’s okay?” Anna was totally confused.
    Nouri piped up. “It is an Iranian custom. Ta’arof . Iranians always decline a gift before we accept. It is our way. But Baba knows this is not the custom in the West. He was explaining that to Maman.”
    Parvin rose, went to Anna, and gave her a hug. “ Khayli mamnoon. ”
    “They are beautiful,” Bijan said. “And thoughtful. But the honor of having you join our family is ours.”
    Anna sat back, tired but relieved. Immersing herself in Persian culture was going to be more challenging than she’d anticipated.
    Bijan changed the subject. “I have called the head of the company with the Metro contract. They would like to meet with Nouri in two days. I assume that will be suitable?”
    “Of course,” Nouri replied. “Thank you, Baba.”
    “And you, Anna. I know you will be busy with the wedding and your new home. But after you’re settled, will you want to work?”
    She