Luz spluttered for a moment but answered before Manu could. “I was explaining to Manuela that I can’t afford more wardrobe-related expenses in Paris.” Aurora was always her ally in matters of moderation and restraint.

“Well, you can’t,” Aurora decreed. “Not until the situation with your inheritance is sorted. You know that, Manu.”

Manuela heaved a sigh, then pursed her lips dramatically as she reached for the cup of tea she’d handed Luz for a bolstering splash of Caña Brava. “Fine, no spending on frivolities.” Luz was certain she didn’t imagine her friend’s mocking tone, but she refused to take the bait.

“Did you write your letter?” Manuela asked, taking the conversation in a different direction, which was her way of conceding to Luz’s wishes.

“Yes,” Luz nodded, folding the document in question to place in an envelope. After tea she’d ask the concierge to post it to Mr. Childers once they reached the port. “Hopefully, I’ll receive some news within the next couple of weeks.” Her friends nodded encouragingly while Luz’s stomach twisted in knots.

Among the many surprises Luz had to grapple with in the past year, the most disconcerting one had been the realization that her father had never changed the conditions of the trust he’d set up for her when she turned sixteen. At the time, he’d arranged for it to be managed by Prescott Childers, an old friend in Edinburgh. It made sense then. She’d been young and could’ve used the help navigating her finances, but now, at twenty-eight, it was at best an inconvenience and at worst a potential disaster. The conditions, as they were, only granted her access to her inheritance with permission of the trustee or if she married and her spouse released it to her. To further aggravate her already-precarious situation, Prescott had been ill in the past year and had scarcely responded to her letters. The first she received in almost six months came only weeks before she departed from Santo Domingo, informing her that Mr. Prescott Childers had passed away and the trusteeship had passed to his oldest son, Percy.

Percy was as elusive as his father.

She would never know if her father neglected to change the terms before he died because he assumed he had time or if he didn’t trust Luz with the management of her inheritance. To think her father found her lacking in the ability to care for herself and her sister had been devastating. It still was. She didn’t know if that wound would ever properly heal.

“Are you still with us, Luz?” Manuela teased. She’d been lost in thought again.

“My mind keeps wandering,” she said by way of an apology.