As soon as Diego opened the door between the garage and house, my stomach growled at the delicious aroma permeating the kitchen coming from a stock pot on the stovetop. The woman at the counter looked up and smiled. If I were to guess, she was older than Josefina. Her dark hair had gray highlights and was pulled back in a stark bun. Her trim figure was covered by a black dress and apron. Her eyes shone as she looked at Aléjandro.

“Bienvenida a casa,” she said.

“Thank ...