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door to the welcoming smell of strong coffee and sizzling bacon. She followed the smell to the kitchen where Helena dressed in her signature kelly green silk tunic and flowing white trousers placed a platter of fresh tropical fruit on the counter. Along with the coffee, fresh guava juice, bacon and croissants, the aromatic cloud carried Sofia to her seat. Accustomed to a carton of yogurt or toast on the go, this was ambrosia. Joe looked up from his breakfast and newspaper.
    “Sofia, I apologize for my abruptness earlier. My only excuse is that I had not yet had my cafe Cubano.”
    Helena laughed, “God help us if we were ever stuck on a deserted island without coffee.”
    A rich tenor called from behind her. “No kidding.”
    Sofia looked around to see Quint entering, shirtless and glowing with health, obviously just returned from a run. Sofia had a difficult time focusing on her food.
    Quint accepted a glass of juice from Helena and continued “I’ve run into him a time or two before breakfast. It’s not pretty. But, I don’t see any bruises, so he must have restrained himself.”
    Joe huffed with a mock offended air. “You see the provocation I have to endure Sofia? It’s no wonder I need so much coffee in order to be civil. Even my Desert Rose is against me.”
    “Desert Rose?” Joe looked at his wife whose eyes danced through lowered lashes. Joe swept his arm towards Helena like Shakespeare reciting a sonnet.
    “She was a wondrous bloom in a barren desert.” Everyone clapped appreciatively. Helena held up her arm to show the rose gold Rolex.
    “Just about every piece of jewelry he’s bought me since has been made of rose gold.” Sofia’s liking of the couple grew; she had never seen such devotion and romanticism. It was a rare thing, especially in the prim, straight-laced groups to which she was accustomed.
    After breakfast, Sofia met Helena on the gangway. “What is the mission today?”
    “Well, tonight we’ll be attending a party at Senor Roberto Aldama’s home in Coral Gables. It’s a chance for you to discover the car’s location. So, you need to wear something that stands out.” Sofia had brought her own clothes but this didn’t seem like the time to argue.
    Instead, she asked, “Is someone particular going to be there?”
    “Many particular someones, but it’s going to be up to you to discover if they have special knowledge about the car’s location.”
    “I see.” Sofia dearly wanted to ask for clues but understood none would be forthcoming. Maybe she would try to talk to Quint before the party.
    As Sofia and Helena approached a cherry red Lamborghini, Sofia glanced at her. She couldn’t see Helena choosing such an ostentatious car but nonetheless said, “Nice car”.
    Helena rolled her eyes. “This blunt instrument? Dear, it is not mine I assure you. Whatever Joe says about these being crass and for young socialites, it doesn’t stop him leasing one every time we stay in Miami.” She cut a conspiratorial look at Sofia. “I prefer something more refined, subtle. But, you know men. They have their vices.”
    “So, better this than another woman then?”
    “Love is all about compromise. We don’t own a car, and I don’t have that strong of an opinion so, why not let him have his way?”
    They valeted the car at the Bal Harbor shops and Helena steered Sofia into Valentino. After the manager greeted her by name, Helena proceeded to make a beeline for a mini three-quartered sleeved cocktail dress. Sofia stared. Seeing her blank expression Helena said, “You don’t like it?”
    “It’s beautiful, but I’m a bit concerned about the color.”
    The dress was a vibrant red. True, it was tasteful, but she would be very visible. Plus, Sofia never wore red. Her father used to make her mother wear it to parties to “infuse festivity”, he said, but the purpose was really to distract his business opponents. Her mother had been wearing just such a red gown on the night of her