She glared at Christian. “Don’t mention the jewelry. I’ll never hear the end of it,” she said. She also didn’t want to give her mother another reason to dislike Ash when she came home. Becca and Christian headed back inside, where her mother and father were inspecting the living room as though they were CSI lab techs. Virginia Ortiz spotted Becca and strode across the living room, managing to appear both concerned and judgmental with one sharp hawklike look.

“Seriously, Rebecca, I cannot believe this is happening. Rafi, isn’t it terrible?” she said.

If there was one skill her mother possessed, it was stating the obvious. Tiny, five foot three with dark hair styled in a pixie cut, she wore a hot-pink pantsuit from Chico’s and a face full of makeup in similar shades, a look Becca dubbed “LA telenovela.”

People often underestimated Virginia because of her diminutive size. She didn’t mind. Growing up, Virginia always told Becca and her brother Robbie that her personality was what allowed her to escape poverty. “People think coming to America is the dream, and it is, but once you’re here, you’ve got to show this country what you’re made of.”

Later, after Becca’s brother died, Virginia said her entire life had prepared her for a tragedy of that magnitude. “I’m strong because I decided to be strong,” Virginia liked to say. “Because if you let it, the world will break you.”

Sometimes her mother’s strength overpowered everything, like a solar eclipse blocking out the sun. All Becca wanted was to focus on Ash. Now that Virginia was here, she would have to endure her mother’s steady stream of questions, each one tinged with her patented brand of disapproval. Becca saw her father hovering in the background. Raphael “Rafi” Ortiz remained the quiet anchor of the family, a successful real estate investor. He was wearing his usual uniform—a lovingly worn Dodgers T-shirt, and jeans. He reached out for Becca and kissed her on the forehead.

“Mija, we’re so sorry…,” Rafi began.

Virginia cut him off. “I guess Ash hasn’t come home?” her mother said, surveying the house.

“Actually, Mom, she’s right here. It’s difficult to see her because of her powers of invisibility,” Becca said.

“Becca.” Her father sighed his “don’t start” sigh. Her mother didn’t bat an eye at Becca’s sarcasm.

“It’s okay, Rafi. I know Rebecca’s just upset. We’re here because we wanted to help,” she said.