The house in Tayabas retained touches of its old glory. The iron gate was rusted a bit, yes, and the exterior needed a fresh coat of
whitewash, but the bones of the property were imposing. Tess saw beneath the current layer of deterioration, and viewed the environs exactly as they were described in Angelica’s letters.
“This heat,” said Tess’ mother. “Susmaryosep, I can barely stand it. I hope there’s air-con in there,” she added, glancing doubtfully at the old house.
Anastacia was wheeled out in a rattan-seated wheelchair to greet the arriving party. She was a frail and faded beauty, much like the house itself, but she held herself upright in such a way that
the wheelchair appeared to be a throne. “Well, look at you,” she said, singling out Tess. “Come closer, hija.” She placed a warm
