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“Is that a house or a resort?” Dina asked. Beside her, Arshad gave a low whistle, and she could see a gleam in his eyes that she didn’t like. From the back seat, her father piped up.

“I have seen bigger homes. My father’s compound in India—” he started, but Nasrin interrupted, sounding testy.

“Your father’s compound was the work of many generations, Azeez. Your daughter’s sasur built this in one generation. Hania has found herself a magnificent match.”

“I thought I was your favorite son-in-law,” Arshad said, turning around to shoot his mother-in-law—ex-mother-in-law, Dina thought grimly—a roguish grin.

“Of course, beta,” Nasrin said automatically. “But you must admit, it is a very impressive home. I think you have some competition.”

They got out of the Lexus SUV they had rented for the wedding, and before Dina could open the trunk, a smiling man in uniform appeared by her side.

“Allow me, miss,” he said with a strong English accent. He opened the trunk and started unloading the car.

Dina, who had not grown up with this level of service, felt momentarily flustered. “Thank you,” she said. “Um, and you are?”

“Mr. Yahya and Ms. Rabia call me Evans, but my name is actually Haroon,” he said. “I serve as the household director at Crescent House.”

Dina could practically hear the name of the house in capitals. “Nice to meet you, Haroon,” she said. “I’m Dina, and this is—”

“Your husband Mr. Arshad, and your good parents, Mr. Azeez and Ms. Nasrin Haq,” Evans said, bowing slightly at the party. “Please, refer to me as Evans while on the premises. It adds to the mystique,” he said, his eyes twinkling. Haroon/Evans looked to be in his early fifties, with dark-brown skin, thick eyebrows, and a large nose. He was an impish man of small stature, but more than capable of lifting three suitcases plus several duffel bags. He indicated they should follow him up the circular drive.

As they walked, Dina admired the surroundings. The house was a massive colonial structure, with white pillars in front of a circular driveway that could easily park two dozen cars with room to spare. A separate garage stood several yards away and had been used to store the former owner’s exotic car collection, according to Evans/Haroon. “Mr. Azeez uses it to store his extra tools,” the butler said with a smile.

“How long have Yahya and Rabia lived here? And how much land do they have?” Azeez asked. He was impressed but trying hard to look nonplussed by the wealth surrounding them.

“They bought the property just over six years ago and have been adding to it ever since. The property is just under six acres. I believe Ms. Rabia has plans to open a community retreat on the grounds, and of course Mr. Yahya continues to grow his collection.”

“Of tools?” Dina asked politely.

“Mr. Yahya has many collections,” Evans said mildly. “I am sure he would be happy to show you, Ms. Dina.”

The front door looked more like the entrance to an Indian palace—dark stained teakwood with intricate floral arrangements, clinging vines, and birds fashioned onto the surface. The handles were large brass fixtures that gleamed in the afternoon light.

“Imported from the Punjab province of India, where it was handcrafted for the family,” Evans/Haroon said. With one free hand, he grasped the door and ushered the party inside. A wide foyer opened before them, the floor a cool white marble, the walls a warm terra-cotta, the interior decorated to resemble a nawab’s palace. From intricately carved wooden screens to massive potted palms and dark wooden accents along the arched doorways, the result was a welcoming and beautifully arranged oasis. Across the wide foyer, Dina spotted huge patio doors and a pool that gleamed blue in the sunshine.

“You’ve arrived!” Rabia said, descending from the grand staircase at the side. She was dressed in a dark-green tunic paired with white embroidered pants. Her short hair was pinned back from her face, and she wore minimal makeup. She kissed the women and nodded at Arshad and Azeez, chatting about their travel and all the plans she had made for the next few days. The walima would be the day after tomorrow, on Friday night.

Dina took advantage of her family’s distraction to pull Rabia aside. There was no way she was going to get stuck with a “there’s only one bed” situation with her ex-husband.

“I snore, and I have night terrors,” she told a sympathetic Rabia. “Arshad and I haven’t shared a room in years. I hope that won’t be a bother? I should have mentioned it before accepting your kind invitation.”

“I completely understand,” Rabia said. “Evans will be happy to set up an extra room for you. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re near Arshad’s room!” She winked, and Dina smiled weakly.

They rejoined the rest of the group, and Rabia pointed to the large patio doors at the other end of a wide hallway. “I know you will want to see Hania first thing. She’s outside by the pool with Samir.” Their party followed Yahya and Rabia to wide patio doors.

Outside, the grounds were impeccably landscaped. A large pool took center stage, surrounded by a cabana large enough to hold a dozen people, lounge chairs, an outdoor kitchen, and two large hot tubs. Hania was spread out on a lounge chair, dressed in flowing chiffon pants and a loose cover-up, her hijab tied turban-style, a big floppy hat and oversize sunglasses completing the look. She jumped up when she spotted her family and rushed over, trailed by Samir.

“You should cancel your honeymoon and just hang out here,” Dina said, making a show of looking around. “Club Med could never.”

Hania was beaming. “Isn’t it beautiful? If I had known Samir’s parents had this type of setup, I wouldn’t have turned him down three times before I said yes,” she joked, turning to grab her new husband’s hand.

“A man likes to keep some things a surprise,” Samir said, looking at his wife indulgently. “I wouldn’t want you to marry me for my parents’ house. My place is not nearly this elaborate.”

“It is rather a lot,” Rabia acknowledged. Her smile turned sly. “Yahya insisted we buy it.”

Her husband laughed, shaking his head. “I believe it was you who insisted, jaan,” he said.

Rabia shrugged. “Perhaps we both fell in love with it at the same time. And the best part is sharing it with our family,” she added. “I’m so pleased you all agreed to stay at Crescent House. The tents for the walima reception will be set up at the other end of the property, so we will have plenty of privacy here. Evans can show you around the grounds later, perhaps before dinner.”