Rattan chairs and antique benches had been placed under the santol trees, and glass pitchers of kalamansi juice sat on small, round tables.
Tess waved at her sister, but Luz seemed to be in another world as she lay stretched out on a hammock, gazing up into a cloudless stretch of blue.
Conversations were taking place everywhere: Paolo, Josefina, and Dante loudly discussed politics. Dina sat demurely at the foot of her Lola Polly’s chair, looking up and nodding at the
older woman, who seemed to be dispensing advice. Tess’ mother and Elenita sat glumly beside each other and debated which of them had it worse: the one with the almost-divorced daughter and
the mother dating a young ballroom dance instructor, or the one with the daughter who had recently admitted to having an affair with a
