She meant every word, and I think she was right. And it seemed to comfort Rosalita, to have this one thing today that Alejandro’s hands had touched.

We stand under the tree, a great big old one that has watched over these grounds long before the Catholics claimed it as their own. She clutches a kerchief in hand, a beautiful one edged in lace, but she has yet to use it. Her eyes have remained dry from the first word the priest spoke.

“What will you do now?” I ask her.

With a shaky little sigh, Rosalita folds up the kerchief with care. “Get back to it, I suppose.”

“What do you mean? Back to Esmeralda’s?”

At the mention of that rotten woman’s name, Rosalita’s face hardens. Gone is the gentle grief and the stoic mourning, replaced by something harder and sharper. Anger, but more than that, strength. “It is Esmeralda’s no longer. Haven’t you heard? I’ve taken over.”

“I had not.” I lean against the trunk of the tree, caring little for how it rucks up the back of my frock coat. I hadn’t worn a dress. I hadn’t felt like myself in a black gown. Hadn’t felt like the Ana that Alejandro knew. And that was who I wanted to be when I said goodbye to him. “You sure it’s a good idea?”

Rosalita nods, resolute. “As sure of anything. If the recent past has taught me anything, it’s that someone needs to protect those girls. That was Esmeralda’s greatest failing. Not her greed or her selfishness or her pride. She had a duty to every soul in her care, and she failed them.” She shakes her head, drawing herself upright, the stiff boning of the corset making her look as tall as a giant. “I will not do the same.”

“You would never.” I feel the corners of my lips twitch up at the thought of how fearsome Rosalita will be. “Any bastard who tries to start trouble under your roof won’t know what hit ’em.”

“That is my hope.” Inclining her head toward the place where Kiki and her father still stand, she says, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I didn’t.” When she looks at me, perplexed, I add, “Don Carlos de Sonza did.”

“What?”

“You heard me. His exact words were, ‘My son loved her. Where else should she be if not by his side?’”

Only now do the tears begin to gather on her long lashes. “I—I don’t know what to say. Alejandro and I—we had discussed what we would do. Where we would go. Never in a thousand years had either of us dreamed that we would be accepted. That his family—that yours—would allow us to be together.”

“Well,” I say with a soft snort, “they let me in. How picky could they be?”