Deanna was eager to share the details of her conversation with Haas. “I’m starting a new tradition,” she told James over the phone. “The third-year resident cooks dinner for the first-year resident!”

“How could I break a tradition that I helped inaugurate? I’ll see you at 6?”

“See you then. Here’s my address.”

Deanna’s apartment was in Clayton, the upscale suburb full of young professionals and hospital faculty. It was more polished than any resident’s apartment, fitting for an ambassador’s daughter. James parked in front and imagined the grander homes she must have lived in during her years in Brazil and Switzerland.

“Hey, Dr. Berkowitz!”

“Dr. Deetan! Welcome!”

James handed her a chilled bottle of champagne. “I thought I’d return the favor from the other night.”

“You’re sweet, James. Appreciated but unnecessary. Come in.” Jasmine enveloped him as he entered. Burgundy leather sofa, dark oak furniture, glass-topped table on a Malachite base. Cozy. Inviting. Classy. It was Deanna.

“Have a seat, dinner’s almost ready.” James sat, noticing a photo album on the table. Deanna popped the cork and handed him a flute. “Go ahead, look.”

The pages exploded with color—fall foliage, meals, landmarks, schools. Brazil, Switzerland, France, Boston. And at the center of nearly all of them: Deanna.

“Fall. My favorite time of year!” She clinked her glass to his. “Cheers!” She pointed to one page. “This is Brazil. My family always visited this area. I love autumn everywhere I’ve lived, but Brazil is still my favorite.”

James smiled. He’d love to visit Brazil someday.

“Lai chiah oh!”

James blinked. “What?”

Deanna laughed. “Isn’t that how you say ‘let’s eat’ in Chinese? In the Fukien dialect?”

James’ mouth fell open. He’d heard it thousands of times from his family—but never from her. “Yes. But how did you know?”

Deanna turned a page and pointed to a girl with a brilliant smile. “Lin. My best friend in Brazil. She was Chinese and Japanese. She taught me Mandarin and some Fukien, plus a little Japanese. We were inseparable.”

“Was?”

Deanna’s eyes lingered on the photo. “She died of leukemia the year I left for Switzerland. I was with her at the end. I promised her I’d become a doctor to help others like her.” She swallowed hard. “That’s why I was so shaken in the morgue that morning. The young patient reminded me of Lin. Fourteen years later and it still cuts deep.”

James ached to comfort her, but Deanna broke the moment with a smile. “Got a surprise for you.” She brought out golden-brown morsels.

“Pão de Queijo!” She placed two steaming cheese breads on plates. “Brazilian street food. Try one.”

James bit into chewy, cheesy heaven. “Oh my…this is incredible.”

They laughed, and soon bossa nova filled the apartment. James closed his eyes. “Desafinado. Jobim and João Gilberto. I love bossa nova.”

“Impressed,” Deanna teased. “Didn’t know you were such a fan.”

“My passion is jazz guitar. Played semi-professionally in the Philippines.”

“Do you sing too?”

“All Filipinos sing.” James playfully crooned a line of “Desafinado.”

“You have a lovely voice. Do you know what the song is about?”

“Out of tune?”

“More than that. It’s about love—feeling slightly out of tune with the world, yet still daring to love.”

She handed him her guitar. James tested the strings, then launched into the introduction of “Girl from Ipanema.” “I never looked back once I heard jazz. Quit classical the next day.”

“Impulsive! Didn’t expect that from you.”

He grinned, riffing cleanly. “When I want something, I go after it.” He caught her gaze and stopped himself.

“Play something for me.”

James strummed “Wave” and sang softly:

So close your eyes, for that’s a lovely way to be

Aware of things your heart alone was meant to see

The fundamental loneliness goes whenever two can dream a dream together…

Deanna leaned closer, spellbound.

“You’re making me homesick.”

“That was my plan.”

They laughed, but then Deanna’s eyes softened. “I spoke to Haas.”

James’ stomach dropped. “You did? What happened?”

“She says she’s not angry with you. That you misunderstood. She only wanted to make sure you followed protocols.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m wary too. But James…before you came, she was different. Loved. Brilliant. I think her miscarriage broke her. Maybe she needs time. Space to grieve.”

James remembered. Anyone would. But his father’s shadow loomed larger.

Dinner interrupted them. Deanna lifted the lid of a cast-iron pot. “Feijoada. Pork and black bean stew. National dish of Brazil.”

The aroma was intoxicating. “This is better than Pão de Queijo!”

Deanna beamed. “My mother made it whenever I was down. Food heals.” She sipped her champagne. “You know, my father was a diplomat. He always said real leadership was reading people, bringing them together. He loved Churchill—always quoting him. ‘We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.’ That’s what he lived by. That’s why I try to be generous, even with people who make it hard.”

James felt the words hit their mark.

“And my mother,” Deanna continued more softly, “used to tell me a line from Rabbi Julius Gordon: ‘Love is not blind, it sees more, not less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.’” She traced the rim of her glass. “That shaped me. Love isn’t ignoring faults. It’s seeing them and staying anyway.”

James’ eyes stung. “Beautiful. I…wish I could see my father that way. He was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. He never told me. My mother finally did. He had to stop operating.”

“Oh, James.” Deanna moved beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I think he knew before I left for St. Louis. Maybe that’s why he was so crushed when I didn’t go into surgery.”

“It’s never easy.” She squeezed his arm. “When Lin got sick, she hid it from everyone until the end. I was afraid to let myself love anyone again after that. Afraid I’d lose them too.”

James pulled her into his arms. “I got you. Not letting go.”

Silence. Just jasmine and the rhythm of her breathing.

Finally Deanna whispered, “So…you’re 31?”

“Yes. A year older than you.”

“Then I have to call you kuya—older brother.”

“Which means you have to obey me.”

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes glistened. “And right now, your command is my wish.”

James brushed her hair back and touched her cheek. She didn’t pull away. Their lips met, jasmine flooding his senses.

“Never letting go,” he whispered against her hair.

“Shhh,” Deanna murmured, clinging to him. “Just hold me.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 23-Invitation