Angelica. Angelica the beautiful, the petulant. Tess glanced again at the letter and realized she was clutching it so tightly that the paper
was crushed. She immediately laid it against her thigh and smoothed it out, grimacing when she noticed that the India blue ink was slightly smeared where her thumb had pressed particularly hard.
She ran a hand through her hair and moved slowly towards the cocina to get a glass of water. The heat and stillness of Manila had always given her headaches—even as a child. Back then, her
Yaya had eased them with a glass of ice water flavored with a squeeze of kalamansi. She asked Vicky for this now. The young maid had been fanning herself in the kitchen, just as listless and
slow-moving as Tess.
Tess sleepily thanked Vicky for the drink, and then moved
