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copy of Salinger’s short stories on Liam’s bedside table.
Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters
. Liam had told her he always went back to his favorite writer, J.D., and that story in particular, whenever he was feeling bad.
    Something
was
bothering him. She’d known from the moment she’d seen him at the airport. He was hiding something from her. At first she’d thought that was only the result of time. The years they’d spent apart would naturally put some distance between them.
    She picked up the book and there, inside, being used as a bookmark, was an envelope made of a fine off-white linen blend. The same kind of paper her uncle used.
    Sure enough, as she turned it over, she saw it was addressed to Liam in Santiago’s familiar, spidery handwriting.
    Make yourself at home
did
not
include reading Liam’s mail.
    Except the letter
was
from her uncle and probably concerned her. And the temptation to find out exactly what her uncle had said to Liam was too powerful.
    Marisala opened the letter and began to read.

THREE
    L IAM SAW HER only by chance. Marisala was walking quickly down the street, nearly three blocks away from his condo. Her backpack was over her shoulders, her suitcase in her hand.
    What the hell?…
    He pulled his car in next to a fire hydrant, leaving his flashers on as he ran after her. “Marisala!”
    She turned to see him chasing her, then turned away, never even breaking stride.
    “Hey,” he said, finally catching up to her. “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”
    She didn’t slow down as she glared at him and let loose a volley of Spanish.
    His own Spanish had become quite good after two years in San Salustiano, but it had been a long time since he’d used it. He caught the gist of her words, though. Something about sewer rats, horse manure, and him. Something about a letter from Santiago that she’d found and read, something about deceitful, dung-eating former friends…
    She knew. Somehow, she’d found Santiago’s letter, and she
knew
.
    Liam swore sharply, running once again to catch up with her. “Marisala, I swear, I was going to tell you—”
    She spun to face him then. “Yeah?” she said. “When? When were you going to tell me that Santiago has asked you to teach me how to dress, and how to stand, and how to be quiet when the men are talking? When were you going to mention that he has asked you to teach me how to walk and make small talk and even how I should wear my hair?”
    She was furious. She was shaking with indignation, and Liam knew he’d made a mistake. “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away.”
    “I don’t need your help. I don’t need a guardian. And I
certainly
don’t need your false hospitality.”
    “Marisala—”
    “How could you make such a stupid agreement? How could you even consider doing what Santiago asked?”
    “It didn’t seem like such a big deal. All you need to do is learn how to come on a little less strong—”
    “So I come on too strong?” She all but kicked him in the shins, and Liam knew that she would have liked to. “Thank you so much for informing me of that fact. I had no idea I was so utterly
repugnant
!”
    “Marisala, your uncle is from another generation. It would be much easier for you to get along with him if you—”
    “If I do
what?
If I sit quietly in the corner and not interrupt when he is speaking, even if I have something important to add? If I wear the dresses and skirts he wants me to wear? Or if I spend the rest of my life with Enrique Morales, a man he paid off to marry me?”
    “Paid off? What are you talking a—”
    “I was almost married a few years ago.”
    Liam knew that. He’d been invited to the wedding, but he’d sent his regrets. He’d made up some excuse so he didn’t have to go and watch Marisala marry someone else. It hadn’t been until Santiago had written to him a few months ago that he’d found out the wedding plans had fallen through.
    “A few days before the