Frank opened the door of KJM’s service van and let Sarah out into the afternoon warmth that was swabbing the sprawling capital of Kathmandu. Last night he’d managed to fix things between them, although he really didn’t know what he’d said that hadn’t already been said. But he wasn’t going to overanalyze it. He grabbed their packs, thanked Doku with a thousand-rupee note and sent his former employee on his way.
“Wow,” Sarah said. “I’d forgotten the madness of the roads here. How do people do it?”
“It’s all they know,” Frank said.
“I guess. I’ll never complain about traffic in L.A. again.” She took her pack from him and eyeballed the hotel. “The pictures on their website don’t do this place justice.”
Frank swept his gaze over the dark blue pond with its island of flowering rhododendron.
