Rosa’s smile brightens further. “Oh, hello, Señora Esguerra, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her English is even better than Ana’s, her accent barely noticeable.

“Thank you, Rosa,” I say, taking an immediate liking to the girl. “It’s very nice to meet you too. And, please, call me Nora.” I look toward the housekeeper. “You too, please, Ana, if you don’t mind. I’m not used to the ‘Señora’ bit.” And it’s true. It’s especially strange to hear myself addressed as Señora Esguerra. Does this mean that Julian’s last name is now mine? We haven’t discussed this yet, but I suspect Julian would want to follow tradition in this case as well.

Nora Esguerra. My heart beats faster at the thought, some of yesterday’s irrational fear returning. For nineteen-and-a-half years, I have been Nora Leston. It’s a name that I’m used to, that I’m comfortable with. The idea of changing it makes me deeply uneasy, as though I’m losing another part of myself. As though Julian is stripping me of everything that I used to be, transforming me into someone I barely recognize.

“Of course,” Ana says, interrupting my anxious musings. “We’re happy to call you anything you wish.” Rosa nods vigorously in agreement, beaming at me, and I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat.

“Thank you.” I manage to give them a smile. “I appreciate it.”

“Would you like to see the house before we go outside?” Rosa asks, smoothing her apron with her palms. “Or would you prefer to start outdoors?”

“We can start indoors, if that’s okay with you,” I tell her. Then I thank Ana for the breakfast, and we begin the tour.

Rosa shows me the downstairs first. There are over a dozen rooms, including a large library stocked with a variety of books, a home theater with a wall-sized TV, and a sizable gym filled with high-end exercise equipment. I’m also pleased to discover that Julian remembered my painting hobby; one of the rooms is set up as an art studio, with blank canvasses lined up in front of a huge south-facing window. “Señor Esguerra had all of this put in a couple of weeks before you came,” Rosa tells me, leading me from room to room. “So everything is brand-new.”

I blink, surprised to hear that. I had assumed that the art studio was new, since Julian is not into painting, but I didn’t realize he’d redone the entire house. “He didn’t have a pool put in too, did he?” I joke as we walk down the hall.

“No, the pool was already there,” Rosa says in absolute seriousness. “But he did have it renovated.” And leading me toward a screened back porch, she shows me an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by tropical greenery. In addition to the pool itself, there are lounge chairs that look amazingly comfortable, huge umbrellas that provide shade from the sun, and several outdoor tables with chairs.

“Nice,” I murmur, feeling the hot, humid air on my skin. I have a feeling the pool will come in quite handy in this weather.