Elena sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her faded T-shirt as her friends chattered around her. Maria leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of concern and enthusiasm, and placed a warm hand on Elena’s knee. “Girl, you’re only forty-one. Look at you—those curves, that smile. You’re too beautiful to be wasting away like this. You could get married again in a heartbeat.”

Elena forced a small laugh, but it didn’t reach her ...