She wanted it there, in the walkway.

So that if Colonel Salazar tried to leave carrying the baby, she would have to pass it in a hurry, in front of everyone, and…” Ophelia’s voice broke.

“So that she might trip.

With Alma in her arms.”

Marisela’s mind went, all at once, to the night before — to the flowered table set strangely close to the door, to the sideways step she had taken without thinking to clear it, to her sleeping daughter in the crook of her arm inches from a marble edge.

Chapter 16 — No Longer a Cruel Remark