The door of the dance hall swung open. Cristóbal, René, and Beatriz came in. Alejandro crossed his hands over his bright red torso.
“No audience at a dress rehearsal. That brings misfortune, and we already have more than...”
“I have to ask you something.” René cut him off. The priest looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days. “Would you recognize the daughter of Víctor Pérez if you saw her?”
Alejandro’s left hand sank away from his chest; the other hand remained on his heart, exactly where the B was located.
When he’d stopped talking about his new plan and waited for the opinion of his table companion, Manuel persuaded himself that he looked distinguished in his blue suit, cream shirt, and blue and white striped tie. He had carefully chosen a hotel bar in one of Valtiago’s
