“Grandma, are you coming tonight?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“I want you to.”
“I want to see you too.”
“Where are you?”
“At my new house.”
“Can I come?”
“My door is always open for you. If your parents want to bring you for a few hours, you’re welcome.”
Carla took the phone.
“No. Gabriel is having dinner with us.”
“I understand.”
“You’re confusing him.”
“I’m not the person who excluded his grandmother from Christmas Eve.”
“Margarita, please don’t create a scene.”
Around me, Felipe’s staff carried dishes into the kitchen while Olivia arranged family photographs. Beyond the windows, the Pacific glittered.
“I’m preparing dinner, Carla. The scene is somewhere else.”
I ended the call.
Guests arrived around four.
Mauricio checked the address three times before coming inside in dark jeans, boots, and a clean work shirt. His hands still carried faint marks from years around engines.
