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care.
    “How about some hot cocoa to warm us up?” she said.
    Angelina appeared to be about th e same age as Mina, and not as young as first assumed. She was also taller than Mina, and her Eng lish sounded better than when she spoke from behind the glass divider at Bosom Bodies . “Let me see if I can find a pillow and some blankets for you. It gets cold at night.”
    “Can I go out on the terrace? Maybe I can see the boat parade.”
    “Sure, but it’s a little late for the parade.”
    Angelina was already out on the dark terrace. Mina went to set out some towels in the guest bathroom. She wasn’t prepared for an overnight guest. That was for sure. It was easier than she expected. All her linens and towels were in the same clearly marked box. She recognized Brian’s handwriting, of course.
    By the time the kettle hissed, Angelina came back in. “Brrr, it’s cold, but so beautiful, stars in the sky, boats lit up like stars in the water. You are so lucky.”
    Mina had to bite her lip to keep from pointing out the price of such luck. She would trade all the luck in the world to have Paola back, if only for one more day. So much she never had a chance to say to her.
    Mina put the instant cocoa in the cups, filled with boiling water, stirred and then handed one of the white mugs to Angelina.
    “Could I bo rrow a sweater?” Angelina asked. “You were right, i t’s cold.”
    “Sure, let me get you one. Be right back.”
    Mina came back with a zippered hoodie she knew was clean because it smelled of shampoo.
    “Here Angelina, you may want to wear this in the morning when I take you to the bus. I hope you know where the bus stop is . I’m not familiar with this side of Orange County yet. I used to live in Missi on Viejo.” While they sipped their hot cocoa, it occurred to Mina they had nothing in common but the accent.
    “I like the name Mission Viejo,” Angelina said, “so romantic.”
    “Yeah, but it should be Mission Vieja .”
    “Mission Vieja ? Why?”
    “You know, mission is feminine, viejo is masculine, so the correct adjective for mission should be vieja .” How can she not know the difference? She is from Guatemala. They speak Spanish.
    “Oh, sí . Sorry, wasn’t thinking.”
    Something wasn’t right. Mina felt awkward in her own home. She wished she'd had the courage to say no to Angelina. When would she ever learn? Bleeding heart, that’s what Paco called her the other day when she insisted on giving money to a beggar. She picked up the empty mugs just to be doing something.
    “Let me do that for you.” Angelina stood up.
    “Not tonight, it’s your night off,” Mina joked. She rinsed the mugs and put them in the dishwasher. Her stomach made gurgling noises. Maybe she drank too fast. She yawned.
    “I usually watch the news and Jay Leno, but between the office and finding out about poor Barbara, I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to sleep. You are welcome to watch TV or whatever you want to do. So, what time should we leave to get you to the bus?”
    “Tomorrow is Tuesday. If I could get there by eight a.m. I’ll be okay.”
    “How much money do you need for the bus? I’m not sure I have cash on me.” The envelope with Angelina’s name and the hundred-dollar bill was still in her pocketbook. Somehow Mina didn’t feel like mentioning it.
    “I have money for the bus fare, thank you.”
    Mina yawned again, her head felt heavy. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Good night then, see you in the morning.” She headed to her bedroom.
     
    Something woke her. Almost. She wanted to open her eyes but her eyelids wouldn’t budge—so heavy, stuck together. Mina moved her fingers, to lift the eyelids. Where were her fingers? She couldn’t feel her fingers. She had fingers; that she remembered.
    She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to be awake, to understand why her brain and her body no longer functioned. Too tired. She was too tired to think, but she didn’t want t o sleep. She