Excerpt from The Betrayers by David Bezmozgis, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

While they were speaking, Kotler had noticed that some of the people had taken a keener interest in them, as if having picked up the scent. When Kotler and Leora started toward the group, two people separated themselves from the others and stepped forward to meet them. They did not appear to be in league, rather at odds. Both were middle-aged women, and each held a hand-lettered sign advertising accommodations. The one who took the lead was stouter and darker complexioned. Her hair had been cut short and dyed an unnatural shade of burgundy. Her features were regular, the eyes, Kotler noticed, a striking dark blue, and though her skin had thickened with age, he imagined that she had been alluring in her day. The second woman was short, shorter than the first, and appreciably shorter even than the diminutive Kotler. She was sinewy, the twin points of her collar bones jutting from the top of her summer frock. She was younger than the first woman by as much as a decade, her hair longer, wheat-colored, and undyed. Both women wore small gold Orthodox crosses around their necks. Whereas, ethnically, the first woman was harder to place, the second had the snub features of a Russian peasant. Yes, the old game of deducing ethnicity: in this they were all participants, experts.

—Are you looking for a room? the first woman inquired.

—We are, Kotler replied.

—For how long?

—The week.

—I have it. If you'll come with me, I can show you.

—Why should he go with you? the second woman protested. I also have a room. And more convenient. Closer to the beach. Let's ask the client first what he wants.

—Here is the difference between my room and hers, the first woman said. Hers may be closer to the beach by five minutes, but it is smaller and lacks a private bath. So it depends what you want. In my experience, people today prefer to have a private bath.

—And the price? Kotler asked.

—Whatever she offers you, the first woman said, I will match it.

—And the others? Kotler said, regarding those who had remained in place and who, in the shade of the glass and concrete hulk of the terminal, followed their conversation with a flat, disconsolate interest.

—You're welcome to talk to them. But none of them will offer you anything better. And besides, do you have the time to see every place? Why not come with me? I believe you will be satisfied. But if not, you can come back and try with someone else.

—As usual, Svetlana, you're very aggressive, the other woman said.

—Pardon, madame? Svetlana replied, the French words heavily accented with Russian. Exactly who is being aggressive? You have some nerve to insult me in front of clients.

—It's correct that my room doesn't have a private bath, the second woman said to Kotler and Leora, making a point of ignoring Svetlana. But I wouldn't call it smaller. It is also clean and newly renovated. My husband, a qualified carpenter, did the work himself. And it is much closer both to the beach and to the bus station. In the interest of saving time, why not come see it first? To go with her will take you twice as long.

Kotler exchanged a quick look with Leora, to ascertain her opinion. What he saw from her was mostly demurral, abstention from the vote.

—Where are you from? Svetlana asked, thrusting herself more completely in front of the other woman.

—America, Kotler said and flashed another glance at Leora.

—Are you Jews? Svetlana asked ingratiatingly, in a tone Kotler had never much liked.

—Do you ask this question of all your clients?

—My husband is Jewish, Svetlana stated, as though it were an article of pride.

—Oh and what of it? the second woman declared, stepping around Svetlana. Maybe my grandfather was a Jew?

Excerpted from The Betrayers by David Bezmozgis. Copyright © 2014 by David Bezmozgis. Excerpted by permission of Little Brown & Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.