“How?”
She stared at me.
“Are you sorry you criticized my clothes?”
“Yes.”
“The food I brought?”
“Yes.”
“The gifts?”
“Yes.”
“Keeping Olivia away?”
“Yes.”
“Making Mauricio feel dirty in your home?”
“Yes.”
“Making my son call and tell me I wasn’t welcome Christmas Eve?”
“Yes.”
I held her gaze.
“Or are you sorry because the woman you looked down on turned out to own a house you admire?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I don’t know.”
I nodded.
“At least that is honest.”
Hugo stood.
“Tell us what to do.”
“I’m not giving you a checklist.”
“Then how do we fix this?”
“You don’t fix years in an afternoon.”
“What do you want?”
“Respect.”
“You have it.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I want respect that exists when you think I have nothing.”
I looked at Carla.
“Respect for Mauricio when he has grease on his hands.”
