I found Teddy in the kitchen, still dressed in her cleaning clothes, her face a bit begrimed. A pot of mole bubbled on the stove. I could smell chiles rellenos in the oven.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“I’ve cleaned a few bathrooms in my life.” She turned her back to me and chopped the vegetables on the cutting board with cold precision.

“He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“He just popped in,” she said.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“My mother is dying,” I said.

Teddy placed the knife on the counter and turned around. “Your mother?”

“Yes. She hasn’t got long to live.”

“Oh, Charlie.”

Teddy came to me, arms outstretched.

“I haven’t spoken to her for ten years,” I said.

“I know.”

Her arms tightened around me, and I clung to her, but I was thinking about Arch. What would he think of our house? Would he like the food? How would he behave toward Pancho and Murray and Mariela?

Outside, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, turning the patch of sky through the window orange and pink.

“Arch wants me to leave with him tomorrow,” I said.

“Can you get a flight that fast?”

“He came down here on my stepfather’s jet.”

“Right,” Teddy said. “Of course. And how long will you be gone?”

“As long as it takes, I guess.”

The words gripped me with their cold finality. I was going home, I thought, to watch my mother die.

Teddy turned the gas down and covered the pot.

“I don’t know what to say, Charlie.”

“I don’t either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I said. “I am too.”

Teddy left the pot to simmer and went to her bedroom to get dressed. I went up to the roof and took out a cigarette and watched the sky purple as the last sliver of sun slid beneath the distant mountains and the lights began to come on along the church spires. Bells pealed from the Parroquia and the Iglesia de San Francisco, marking vespers.

It was almost dark when I heard a knock at the door below. I hurried down the stairs and opened the door for Arch. He was dressed in pressed slacks, alligator loafers, a polo shirt, and a navy blazer with gold buttons.

“Am I overdressed?” he asked.

I looked down. I was still in the same paint-stained clothes I’d been wearing when Arch found me in the park.

“Sorry,” I said. “I lost track of time. Teddy should be ready by now. Mariela and Pancho and Murray should be here in a few. Come on in. You can have a drink while I throw something decent on.”

I led Arch through the living room and into the kitchen and offered him a drink. I had bought a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch the day before for Murray. Arch helped himself to a tumbler and poured a few fingers over ice.