Back at Lola Josefina’s house on Horseshoe Drive, Tess waited patiently, her bag packed and ready at the bottom of the stairs. Lola
Josefina had gone for a quick rendezvous with Dante. “Just running out for a quick dance lesson,” she’d called gaily on her way out the door, and Tess had laughed and laughed.
Paolo was busy as well, citing a number of errands he had to complete before being able to leave for the journey to Tayabas.
With nothing to do, Tess wandered aimlessly around the sala, touching the silver and capiz picture frames scattered around the Chinese table in front of the window against the far wall. The
women of the family stared back at her. There was her mother as a child, a debutante, a pregnant wife. Lola Josefina beaming with the Barcelona Cathedral looming in the back
