Louisa arrived on a Saturday without calling at first.
This was how she always arrived. She was Savio's oldest friend and the closest thing to an aunt Sera had outside of blood, seventy-one years old and sharper than most people half her age. Rosa let her in and brought tea without being asked, and by the time Sera came downstairs from the study, they were already in the sitting room and the good cups were out.
Sera heard her voice from the hallway and felt, the way she always did, the particular combination of warmth and bracing that Louisa's presence produced. Warmth because this woman had loved her since she was seven years old and the love was unconditional and permanent. Bracing because Louisa did not allow people to lie to themselves in her presence. She never had. She considered i
