“It was, I imagined, originally her husband’s office. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and there was a slate floor with a rich-looking ruby oval rug under and around the desk. Covering the wall on one side of the office was a bookcase from floor to ceiling, each shelf filled with volumes of reference books and novels. On the wall behind the desk was a large portrait of Tía Isabela and her husband, dressed formally and standing in front of the fireplace in the living room. It looked like a po...rtrait of royalty. All they needed were crowns and scepters.In the picture, Tía Isabela looked much younger and resembled my mother much more. I felt sure now that she had had a plastic surgeon work on her face, changing her nose, especially, not that she wasn’t very attractive before that was done.She stood behind the large dark cherry-wood desk, folded her arms under her breasts, and nodded at the dark brown leather chair in front of the desk.“Sit,” she said, and I hurried to the chair.She glanced up at the portrait as if she needed guidance from her husband.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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