4
Estela watched Ramiro go and tried not to feel the ache in her heart. He had been so strange since his return that in some ways she no longer knew him. Where was the boy whose eyes had followed her even when he himself hadn’t dared? It had taken her until he had left to understand that perhaps the quiet boy was the good one and the ones who were so brash and confident—especially those waving about their drug wealth—were not so kind. But now?
Now Ramiro would barely speak with her. And somehow, her seeking the protection of the Americans was yet another offense. She would have to do something about that—when she didn’t have a restaurant crowded with customers and Jesús to worry about.
The dinner service ran by so fast as it always did when she was busy. She was outside in the soft twil
