aquamarine eyes glitter with moisture—but the color makes her sympathy seem phony. Nancy says she understands how worried everyone is feeling. She, too, has sisters.
The other woman is the investigator that Kempowski contracted to do some local gumshoeing, Dorothy, call her Dot. Antonia would never have guessed the elderly woman was a private investigator. But Kempowski claims Dot is the best there is in surveillance. Everyone talks to Grandma. She has been interviewing Nancy in the back sunporch. They were just finishing up. Dot will swing by Nancy’s office later to pick up a copy of some signed paperwork and Izzy’s cell. Nancy will hold on to Izzy’s deposit for now, to be totally refunded if—
Dot and Nancy exchange a glance. No need to go there now.
Nancy leaves, tooting her horn in a way that feels too perky given the circumstances. Antonia and Mona link arms. It’s the closest Antonia has felt to her baby sister in a while. They keep butting heads over how to respond to the Izzy situation.
Ay, sister, sister. Mona leans her head on Antonia’s shoulder. What’s that line in that poem of yours? Something about how we make the spirit out of what we own / no angel lives abroad but in the bone.
That is an oldie all right! Antonia laughs. I wrote that, like, in college. I don’t even have a copy of it.
I don’t know how many times I’ve quoted that poem to my patients.
Mona quoting poetry, Antonia’s poetry no less! Did it help? Antonia wonders out loud.
I haven’t a clue, Mona snorts, a rare moment of self-doubt. I mean, I think my patients felt accompanied—and that’s sometimes the best we can do for each other.
If that’s all we’re asked to do for each other, is Antonia off the hook by writing her poems? Or is that just outsourcing her compassion? Conveniently removing herself from the havoc that the troubled cause in the lives of others.
Mario, Estela, Izzy . . . What does she owe them? It’s no longer an abstract dinner-party or classroom question. Besides, it’s not for others to answer for her. No angel lives abroad but in the bone. The height of self-care: the divinized self. Go easy, Antonia says in her GPS voice. Recalculating . . .
Inside the cottage, it’s like a pajama party gone awry. Maritza is giving everyone supportive back rubs. Mona uncorks a bottle of wine. Dot puts a hand over her glass. She’s on the job. Just water, thanks. Dot wears no jewelry, nondescript clothing, no brands or logos. If the point is not to have any identifying marks—tabula rasa—she better get rid of those funky glasses.
Dot has run every check on Nancy—litigation and criminal history: none of the databases turned up a thing. The gal is clean. Which doesn’t rule out greed, self-interest, finding an easy mark and taking aim. There is a lot in this world you can get away with and still be within your rights. It is not a crime to profit from the troubled or soon to be missing.
But what about Nancy ending up with Izzy’s cell phone? Isn’t that kind of fishy?
I thought the same thing. Mona nods in confirmation. But Dot has already worked this angle and lays it all out. Possession of Izzy’s cell phone is not in itself suspicious. It’s plausible. Say someone leaves behind their cell phone in your house. Obviously, you can’t call them to let them know. You figure they’ll retrace their steps once they find it missing. Remember, Nancy had no idea that Izzy was someone who had gone missing. Besides, Izzy was supposed to come back on her way home from Chicago. That’s what she told Nancy. So, if worse came to worst, Nancy was planning to return the cell phone then.
Mona and Antonia lift their eyebrows at each other. An expression of incredulity all the sisters share with their mother. Mangos under the tree. They’re not buying it.
I’ll tell you what I would have done, Mona says with the righteousness of the aggrieved youngest whose ideas are always discounted. Mona would’ve gone to Recent Calls and called every last one of those numbers. Left a message. Please let Izzy Vega know that she left her cell phone at my house. Maritza agrees. That’s what she would have done, too.
Some people are careless, Dot reminds them, giving the Realtor the benefit of the doubt. A benefit they will all need to avail themselves of in order to get out from the