“Lovely. Just charming. Look at the smile on this little one here,” said the man, turning to Pía, who was grinning saucily at all the compliments. “I bet she gets her looks from her mother.”

“My daughters,” the father repeated to himself, almost in a whisper.

“Yes, your daughters,” said the man, confused. “Well, wherever those genes come from, they’re marvelous,” he added.

“Yes, my daughters,” the father said again, now trying to hide his surprise. “They’re lovely,” he added in a quietly affectionate voice.

“Well, then . . . who should we start with? The little one looks like she wants to go first.”

“Yes. Whatever you say. With her . . . but . . . you know . . .” He paused and forced a smile. “The thing is, I don’t have any cash on me just now, I’d have to go take some out. I’m going to run to the ATM and we’ll come back to take the photos.”

“If you want, you can leave the girls here. You can go to the ATM while we do the shoot.”

“No, I can’t leave them alone, you know . . . their mother . . . she’d kill me.” He apologized and let out an awkward giggle. “But we’ll be right back.”

The man sighed and twisted his mouth to one side. “I understand,” he said, but his eyes betrayed what he was thinking: “Once again, they’re wasting my time.” He stood up, and the father and Simona imitated him immediately. Pía stayed sitting another moment longer, fiddling with her dress, all smiles. The man walked quickly to the door and indicated the way out to the street, which was obvious. He didn’t mention that there was an ATM at the gas station on the corner. He knew they weren’t coming back.