PART 1
—Before we sing Las Mañanitas, I want to know if this blue-eyed girl is really my son’s daughter.
The entire hall froze.
Daniela Salgado felt Lucía, her one-year-old baby, cling tightly to her neck with biscuit-crusted little hands. The girl wore a white dress, a lace bow, and had enormous blue eyes that sparkled under the chandeliers of the private club in Polanco.
It had all been Teresa Aranda’s idea—her mother-in-law.
White flowers. Golden glasses. Immaculate tables. Relatives with long surnames and short smiles.