Chapter 4

When Malena woke up, she was alone in Claudia’s room, a neatly made bed by her side. Somewhere in the neighborhood, a dog barked. So it hadn’t been a dream; she was at her mother’s house. Incredible she’d been able to fall asleep after spending most of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Claudia’s breathing and waiting for Liliana to show up in the room. But Lili never came. How strange that she hadn’t arrived yet. If something bad had happened to her, no one would even know to look for her. Oh, Christ. She couldn’t think of that now. Guilt was something she couldn’t deal with at this moment.

She pulled her valise from under the bed and set it on top of the covers. Her clothes—what little she had brought—were neatly organized by colors. She slipped into one of her better shirtwaist dresses and scrambled out of the room. The sooner she talked to the sisters, the sooner this deceit would be over.

The house was quiet, and the dining room empty. Malena pushed the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The temperature here was warmer than any other part of the house and a mélange of smells filled the room, among them spices and coffee. Trinidad stood by the sink, peeling potatoes. This morning, she had fixed her hair in two long braids instead of one.

“Buenos días, Niña Lili,” she said.

“Good morning, Trinidad. Where’s the family?”

“The men are at the store, Niña Claudia went to mass, and Doña Ana and Doña Amanda took their mother to the doctor for a checkup.”

And Alejandra? People in the house rarely mentioned her. It was almost as if she were another object in their beautiful home.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” She didn’t have a lot of time. Lili could show up any second now.

“They didn’t say, Niña. Would you like some breakfast?”

How could anyone eat at a time like this? She should have spoken to the sisters last night! She didn’t even want to think about the chaos that would ensue if Lili arrived before Malena had a chance to clarify her situation.

Trinidad brought a basket of bread to the counter and a jar of marmalade—no labels on the jar.

Then again, there might never be another opportunity to speak to the maid.

“Did you make this?” Malena raised the jar to eye level.

“Yes, Niña. It’s blackberry.”

Her neighbor Julia prepared her own marmalade, too. Perhaps she should call her soon and tell her she was fine—at least for now—and maybe get some advice from her only friend in Guayaquil.

Malena sat on a stool. “After twenty-seven years, you must know the family well.”

“That I do.” Trinidad placed a cup of café con leche in front of Malena.

“And you’ve met my mother, right?”

“Yes. Before she got married, she spent a lot of time in this house with Doña Ana. She was her only friend.” So María Teresa was Ana’s friend, not a relative. “But we haven’t seen her in fifteen years, at least. She never comes to San Isidro anymore.”

“My mother is a very busy woman.” Malena poured sugar in her coffee. “But she always talks about Ana. She also talks about another friend. A family friend. But she lost track of him years ago and asked me to find out what happened to him. So I thought that maybe … you knew him, too.” She set the spoon on the saucer. “His name was Hugo Sevilla.” It felt weird to say her father’s name aloud.

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I never forget a name, Niña.” She dried her hands on a hand towel. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go upstairs to tidy up the rooms.”

The woman darted out of the kitchen before Malena could say another word. Had Trinidad been honest? She seemed in an awful hurry to leave. Then again, if Malena’s mother had an illicit relationship with her father, it wouldn’t be so strange if Trinidad had never met him.

There had to be something in this house to prove that one of the sisters had a baby or at least knew Malena’s father. Photographs, letters, or maybe the birth certificate she hadn’t been able to locate in her apartment. There was that picture of the sisters in the study. She’d better take advantage of nobody being home and go there. Who knew how much longer before Lili arrived.

She fled to the study and pushed the door open.

“Do you need something?”

Malena flinched. She hadn’t seen Claudia standing by the front door, hanging her coat on the tree-shaped hanger.

“I just need a piece of paper,” Malena said. “To write a letter to my mother.”

Claudia removed the black lace veil covering her head while staring at Malena for an unnerving moment. The temperature rose in Malena’s face. Just one more lie. Soon this will all be over.

“Go ahead, then.” Claudia inserted her gloves in her purse and headed for the stairs.

Through the spaces in the staircase banister, Malena waited for Claudia’s thin legs to disappear onto the second story. Then, she entered the study and searched for a clue in all the desk drawers and underneath stacks of stationary paper, envelopes, and store documents. She found an address book, but her father’s name was not in there.

She removed the Platas sisters’ picture from the hook. Judging by the girls’ dresses and hairdos, it must have been more than twenty years old. Yet Malena could still recognize the mole on Amanda’s cheek, Ana’s pointy chin, and Alejandra’s big brown eyes. At the center of the frame, Abigail looked directly—almost defiantly—at the camera. Malena looked for a resemblance between the dead woman and herself, and identified the same unruly hair and full mouth. A teenage boy stood by a very young Alejandra. He was handsome and oddly resembled Mamá Blanca.

The peal of the doorbell made her drop the picture to the floor. Liliana! She picked it up, wiped the glass with her sleeve, checked for cracks, and returned it to the hook. The doorbell rang again. She had to open it before Trinidad or Claudia did. She had to talk to Lili, beg her to help her.

She dashed to the front door and pulled it open. The face in front of her wasn’t Lili’s. It was a man’s face, and she had seen those sad eyes before. She recognized him then. He was the man sitting in the restaurant across from the hotel; the man staring at her; the man drinking by himself; the man in the fancy suit. He wore a similar suit today, and he had an armband on.

“Good morning.” He seemed confused. “I’m looking for Claudia.”

She lowered her gaze, as if that simple motion would prevent him from recognizing her. If he did, if he said something, she would have to explain herself, to lie again. Under his polished black shoes lay a piece of paper, an envelope. She could read a portion of the sender’s name: Liliana. Her palms moistened. It must be a letter from her. He followed her glance to the ground and, upon seeing the envelope, moved his foot.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”

She picked up the envelope so he wouldn’t read the name.

“Please come in. I’ll go get Claudia for you,” she said.

She kept the envelope behind her back while holding the door for him.

He walked into the foyer. “Have we met before?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I just arrived here. I’m a family friend.” She pointed at the stairs. “Claudia is upstairs. I’ll go tell her you’re here. I’m sorry. Your name is?”

“Sebastian Rivas.” He extended his hand.

She switched the envelope to her left hand and shook his firm hand. This close, she could smell his citric cologne mingled with a mild cigarette scent. He was tall, a head or so taller than her, and so she focused on his thin black tie as they shook hands.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” She took two steps back, still holding the envelope behind her.

All her instincts forced her up the stairs before he could say another word. Had she stayed there any longer, he might have remembered seeing her, or asked about the letter. She held onto the rail as she read the addressee’s name on the now wrinkled envelope. Sra. Ana de Dávila Platas. Her address was scribbled underneath. In the upper left corner, that girl’s name: “Liliana Paz.” It was printed, not handwritten or typed, and no return address was given.

Malena folded the envelope in half, unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, and inserted it inside her brassiere. Then, she opened Claudia’s door without knocking.

Claudia stood by her bed with Malena’s valise on top of it, her hands on the zipper as if she was about to open it, or maybe she was closing it.

“What are you doing?”

Claudia ran her palm by her forehead. “I was going to put your valise in my armoire. So it wouldn’t be in the way.”

“I don’t think it’s in the way under the bed.”

Claudia gripped the handle and placed the valise on the floor. “I was just trying to do you a favor, but if you don’t want it there, that’s fine.”

Malena made a brief inventory of her valise’s contents. Her mother’s letter was inside her purse in one of the night table’s drawers.

“Forgive me,” she told Claudia. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Malena shoved the valise under her bed.

“Someone called Sebastian is waiting for you downstairs.”

“Sebastian? Why didn’t you say so?” Claudia examined her reflection in the vanity mirror, pinning the loose hairs in her ponytail and pinching her cheeks. “How long has he been waiting?”

“Not long.”

“Should I change?”

Malena shrugged. To her, all of Claudia’s clothes seemed nice, and the pink cashmere sweater she wore was no exception.

“I don’t think you should keep him waiting.”

Claudia sighed. “You’re right.” She put on her necklace and straightened the cross. Before stepping out, she turned to Malena.

“There’s a piece of paper sticking out of your blouse.”