“I need to talk to you about something important,” I say, keeping my voice calm even though my heart is racing. “Can you wake Loretta? I need all three of you awake for this conversation.”
Leonardo goes to the bed and gently shakes his sister.
“Loretta. Wake up. Mami needs to talk to us.”
“I don’t want to,” she murmurs, rolling over.
“Loretta,” I insist. “It’s important, sweetheart.”
Something in my tone alerts her. She sits up abruptly, her eyes searching for danger, probably expecting someone to be sick or hurt.
“What happened? Is Nonno okay?”
“Nonno is perfectly fine. Everyone is fine. But I need to explain something to you that… that is complicated. And I need you to listen very carefully, all right?”
All three nod with that seriousness children adopt when they sense something
