I stood by the window. Angélica wore a navy-blue sequin dress with a gorgeous drape that reached the floor. Catalina crouched beside her, pinning the hemline of her dress. She held a couple more pins between her lips.
“Go higher,” Angélica told her.
“I already agreed to the short sleeves, Angélica. Don’t push your luck.”
“You’re not my mother! Besides, you owe me obedience. I’m your older sister.”
No, dear Angélica, I am.
“Well, are you going to guess who I saw or not?”
“I don’t know. One of Mamá’s friends? Let’s see, who’s still alive?”
“No. None of Mamá’s friends,” Catalina said. “I saw Silvia.”
Angélica’s body stiffened, making her look even taller. Her cheeks turned red. But Catalina was oblivious to her sister’s reaction as her gaze was fixed on the hem.
“She’s a widow now and apparently she just got back,” she said.
Angélica didn’t answer.
“Like this?” Catalina showed off her work.
Angélica nodded absently.
“I never understood what happened between you two.” Catalina stood up straight, resting her hand on her lower back. “You used to be such good friends. And then one day, she stopped coming, she got married and left. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Without even saying goodbye.”
“Can I take this off now?” Angélica reached for the button at the nape of her neck.
“Wait, wait.” Catalina stood behind her and undid the zipper.
Who was this Silvia person? But more importantly, why had Angélica reacted so awkwardly upon hearing that this woman was back in town? Could she be the same elusive woman I was looking for?
Catalina raised her head and spotted me through the window. “Don Cristóbal! I didn’t know you were there.”
Angélica rushed behind an Art Nouveau folding screen.
“I apologize.” I stood by the threshold. “I was just admiring your talent. You have a great eye for design and construction.” I couldn’t help but think of my mother. She was the one who’d taught me the basics of sewing. She’d also been an excellent knitter.
“Catalina is a superb seamstress,” Angélica said behind the screen.
Angélica reappeared in the room, wrapping a black silk robe around her slim frame. “I’m so lucky to have my own seamstress here at home.” She smiled at her sister. “Catalina sews all my clothes.”
“You’re a box of surprises, Do?a Catalina,” I said.
She smiled at me shyly. There was some yelling coming from the kitchen.
“I need to speak to him!” a woman said.
“I told you he’s not here!” Julia said.
I immediately recognized the voice.
“Don Cristóbal, I need to speak to you,” Soledad Duarte said as soon as she saw me. Had she figured out my sinister connection to her son?
My sisters turned to me with curiosity.
“I’m desperate!” the curandera said. “I don’t know what to do.”
I held her arm. “Do?a Soledad, let’s go to the parlor.”
“I apologize for this intrusion, Don Cristóbal, I tried to stop her,” Julia said.
“It’s fine.” I was already pulling the woman into the living room.
“Wait!” Angélica said. “What is this all about? You can’t barge into our house like this, Soledad. I demand to know what’s happening.”
“It’s my son, Do?a Angélica. Franco is still missing and it’s been a month already.”
I glanced at Catalina, whose cheeks turned slightly pink, but she didn’t utter a word.
“Franco? What does he have to do with this gentleman?” Angélica said. She seemed so oblivious to Franco’s connection to me that for the first time I questioned if she had anything to do with Cristóbal’s murder.
Either that, or she was an excellent actress.
“This gentleman promised to help me find him.”
I scratched my forehead. I’d forgotten all about Soledad’s request. Not that I was seriously considering contacting the police about a missing man. If anything, I would accuse him of killing my husband.
“I said I would help her, but I’m no detective,” I told my sisters. “I offered to talk to the police since Do?a Soledad said they won’t listen to her.”