Epilogue
Somewhere in the background, a woman was weeping. Joaquin wanted to tell her to be silent, that he needed to be alone with his thoughts, but he stopped himself. He would not show any outward grief over Matías’ death, and so he supposed he might as well allow Olivia to cry now, for the brother she had lost. His son deserved that much.
A black wreath hung on the door, and some of the Santiago women had come to the house to drape cloths on all the mirrors. Tomorrow would be the funeral, with a line of hundreds of cars going to St. Andrew’s in Old Town Pasadena, so all the Santiagos could grieve for the son of their primus.
Olivia’s tears irritated Joaquin, though. They had been estranged the last few years of Matías’ life, mostly because Olivia could not see past her own weaknesse
