Free The Thai Amulet by Lyn Hamilton Page B

do with the family but instead with the possibility that Will Beauchamp was dead.
    Regardless of the reason for my disquiet, I couldn’t get to sleep for hours. Sometime very late I decided to see if there was some nice herbal tea in the kitchen, something preferably with the word
sleep
in its name. I tried to be exceptionally quiet, so as not to disturb Jennifer. The light was on in the kitchen, and I could hear low voices. It was Yutai and Khun Wongvipa. Yutai’s tie and jacket were gone, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. He looked much more casual and relaxed than I’d seen him heretofore. Wongvipa was in a silk blouse and slim black pants. As I watched from the dark of the hallway, Wongvipa reached up and took Yutai’s glasses off. It was a gesture so intimate, somehow, I was stunned. I turned back as quietly as I could, but in my haste to get away, stumbled on the edge of a carpet. The voices stopped abruptly, and I heard footsteps moving to the doorway. I was reasonably sure they saw me retreating quickly down the hall.
    Chapter 4
    The king certainly had much more than a serious little boy to worry about. The Burmese, long a weakened state with no power to threaten us, had suddenly grown strong under the leadership of King Tabinshwehti of Toungoo, who captured the Mon state of Pegu, acquiring all its people and wealth.
    When Prince Yot Fa was only two years old, King Chairacha was forced to raise a large army and march against the Burmese, when the evil Tabinshwehti attacked a müang, Chiang Krai, which sent tribute to Ayutthaya, and was thus entitled to our protection. A brilliant tactician and soldier, the king dealt firmly with his enemies, driving them from our region, and for a time, Ayutthaya enjoyed peace.
    But it was not to last for long.
    “I wonder if I might have a few minutes of your time?” Khun Wongvipa said to me the next day. “A private word, if you don’t mind.”
    “Certainly,” I replied. A twinge of apprehension tugged at the back of my mind.
    “I would appreciate your advice on a subject of some delicacy,” she said. I sincerely hoped I didn’t know what it was.
    “My husband, you see, is not really supportive.”
    No kidding,
I thought.
    “Would you mind accompanying me to the fourth floor?”
    “Not at all,” I said. I did, after all, have to be nice to my host and Jennifer’s beau’s mother, although what the fourth floor had to do with the subject was a mystery, and there was absolutely no way I wanted to discuss her love life. We emerged from the elevator into a bright, airy space with a wonderful view of the river. A desk and workstation had been set up, along with two drafting boards, and two young men were working away at drawings. There were bolts of fabric everywhere and some very fine reproductions of old Thai carvings and furniture.
    “This is the home of what I call Ayutthaya Design,” she said. “It has nothing to do with Ayutthaya Trading. I have started my own little business. My husband thinks it is a silly notion of mine. He doesn’t understand why, given we obviously don’t need another business, I would do such a thing. Before I met my husband, I was poor, and I worked very hard. Even in the early days of our marriage, I worked in the company. But then I had children, and the business did exceptionally well without me. Still, I would like to have something of my own. I cannot help but feel you will understand. Jennifer has told me about your shop, which sounds quite wonderful, and even though I am sure it is easier for North American women than it is for Thai, you must still have had many challenges. I really could use your advice as to whether you think there might be a market for my lines in North America, and if so, how I might go about getting started there. I’m hoping you could help me, if it is not too much of an imposition.”
    “Of course I understand,” I said. “And I’m flattered you would ask me.” And relieved, too, that it was such