9
Sarah stood by the stone knee-wall on the teahouse terrace retying her ponytail while peering out over the Namche valley below. Beside her, Greg was going through his backpack looking for something. She glanced down at him, wondering what he was after, before peering back up at yet another pristine, blue-skied morning. Finally, she said, “What are you looking for?”
He glanced up, perplexed. “What . . . oh, my power adapter.”
“I have mine if you need it,” she offered.
“Thanks, but I want mine.”
Sarah smiled. Though he never really knew his father, Greg was so much like him when it came to his belongings. She knew enough to leave him alone and suppressed the urge to help. “So, we’re on to Tengboche today.”
Greg ducked his head back into his pack. “That’s the plan.” Over his shoulder,
