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mortgage so they could decorate the place. It was perfect.
    Unfortunately, Maureen’s discouragement had only grown in the weeks since the two returned from Spain.
    “If God worked so hard to provide for us here, why didn’t he work in Spain? Why didn’t he make your father want to stay with me? It’s hard to be thankful for a house when my life has fallen apart.”
    Natalia had learned to stay quiet. Her attempts at helping Maureen either resulted in tirades or tears—neither of which was pretty. Or beneficial.
    “All right, ladies, I’m going out to get some lunch. I need a Big Mac and some fries to get me through the rest of this day.” Jack laughed, stretching his back muscles and grimacing with the effort. “You guys want something while I’m out?”
    “I would love a salad.”
    “No,” Maureen snapped. “We’ll take care of our own lunch. Jack, you’ve done enough. Go ahead home and we’ll put these things together.”
    Jack and Natalia both looked at Maureen as if she were crazy. “Maureen, don’t be silly. It would take you guys forever to put all of this together. Besides, your sister would skin me alive if I came home now. Natalia wants a salad. What about you?”
    Defeated but still angry, Maureen gave Jack her order and watched as he walked out the door. As soon as his car pulled out of their driveway, Maureen began to cry.
    “Why does my sister get a guy like him? They’ve been married ten years, and he still does whatever she asks. He treats her like a queen . . . He’s a great dad. It’s not fair!” Maureen slid down the wall to the hardwood floor.
    Natalia vacillated between anger at Maureen for wallowing in self-pity and anger at her father for causing Maureen so much pain. She finally decided the best thing she could dowould be to pray—pray for Maureen to get over her dad and pray for herself not to strangle Maureen in the meantime.
    Natalia grabbed her suitcases, which had arrived five days after she did, and took them up to her room. A bare mattress on a metal frame sat underneath the lone window and boxes were piled along three walls. Inside those boxes were her nightstands, dresser, and headboard. Jack was right: this would take forever.
    I may not be able to put my things together, but I can at least make my bed.
    She walked over to the pile of bags and found the one with her sheets—bright red jersey cotton to go with her red-and-white floral bedspread. Natalia relaxed as she placed them on her bed. She wasn’t used to beds being so high, and she would need to return to the department store and get a bed skirt to cover the ugly black rollers at the base of the bed frame. She folded down the bedspread and placed her pillows against the wall, then surveyed her work.
    It’s a start. She smiled.
    “Lucy, I’m ho-ome!” Jack bellowed.
    Who was Lucy and why was Jack calling for her? Natalia still hadn’t deciphered what he had meant when he said Carol would “skin him alive” when he came home. Natalia doubted she’d ever fully understand Americans.
    “. . . and I brought backup!”
    Natalia came down the stairs and smiled when she realized she knew what he meant by “backup”—thanks to the American cop shows so popular in Europe.
    “You’re smiling like the cat that ate the canary.” Jack laughed at Natalia.
    “What?”
    “The cat that ate the canary,” Jack repeated.
    When will people realize that saying something twice doesn’t make it more intelligible? Natalia looked behind her stepuncle and froze midthought.
    She had never seen hair quite so red. It had golden streaks and was wavy, the locks cut short but spiked. Below the hair was a giant. Her father, a little under six feet, was considered quite tall in Spain. But this young man stood almost half a foot taller. Natalia had to crane her neck to see his face. He had a warm smile—very white—with a strong nose and full, rosy lips. He was paler than most of the boys she knew in Spain, making his hair