Leslie was turned to Ana, though she seemed to struggle to focus on her words. Well, who could blame her? She and Nate had spent all night on a plane before they'd driven up here to the chapel. Marisa should have suggested a place nearer to town, but she'd never been to Acapulco, and the chapel was the only place she knew to meet.

"Mama, are they coming home with us? Where will they sleep? On the floor? Or I can sleep on the floor, and they can sleep in your bed. But maybe not him." She tugged on Nate's shirt, and he turned back to face her. "You'll have to sleep on the floor with me. Did you bring a sleeping bag?"

"Uh..."

"It's okay," Ana said. "We can borrow blankets. Do you mind sleeping on tile? Abby says it's uncomfortable, but I don't mind. It's cool."

"Pajarita." Marisa chanced a glance at Nate, whose eyes were wide. She tried not to giggle. "They are not coming home with us. We're going to visit with them here."

"But I'd love to see where you live," Nate said. "I bet your house is very pretty."

"It is. Mama's paintings are on the walls, and she brings in flowers sometimes and puts them on the table. I like yellow flowers. Do you like yellow?"

"Of course," Nate said. "Is yellow your favorite color?"

"No." Ana shook her head solemnly, as if Nate had asked a very serious question. "My favorite color is blue."

"No way!" Nate said. "Me, too."

"Mama, did you hear that? His favorite color is blue! Can we drive in this car all the way home? Oh, wouldn't Abby be jealous."

Marisa smoothed her daughter's hair. "That's not a very kind thing to say."

Ana frowned and nodded. "You're right." She brightened immediately. "But we could give her a ride, couldn't we? Oh, can we, Mama? Abby's never even been on a bus before!"

"Not this time, pajarita. We are going to visit with Aunt Leslie and Nate for a little while before we take the bus back."

Ana's disappointment lasted long enough for her to take a breath. Then she started chattering again like a little bird.

More than once, Leslie looked between Marisa and Ana, eyes squinted as if she were trying to work out a difficult problem. Leslie looked older, of course, but aside from a few wrinkles, she seemed just like the big sister she'd been eight years earlier. Brusque, impatient, but kind and protective. Marisa's heart swelled as she took in her sister's presence. How Marisa had missed her.

"She's adopted," Marisa said. "Or almost. It's a really long process in Mexico."

"Oh." Leslie's glance went to Marisa's left hand. "Are you married?"

"Nope."

She waited for Leslie's next question, but Ana's sweet voice started up again.