Bianca and Tomás's engagement had its own particular texture.
They were planning a smaller event — a civil ceremony in Lisbon in the autumn, a dinner for the people who mattered, none of the estate-and-wisteria architecture that came with the Vasconcelos name. Bianca had been clear about this from the beginning with the directness that was her medium: she was not a large-event person and anyone who'd known her for five minutes knew that the orange coat showed up regardless of occasion and required no special staging.
But the two engagements had a specific companionship to them. Camila noticed it in the way the four of them occupied Saturday evenings — at whoever's kitchen table happened to have food on it, talking about things that weren't weddings and then about things that were, the co
