The job is yours, Marisol, if you’ll have it.” Valeria jumped up, clapping.

“Say yes, Marisol!

Please say yes!” Sofia tugged at her apron.

“Please stay!” And Marisol covered her mouth, tears shining in her eyes, and nodded.

“Then yes, Mr.

Vance,” she said.

“Absolutely yes.”

I want to dwell for a moment on why I gave Marisol that position, because it was not, whatever it might look like, simply a reward for good behavior, or an act of guilty generosity, though there was gratitude in it.