Sonia’s voice hushed into a secret between just them.
“I love it here in New York, it is the only city for me. Except Paris. And Venice, of course. But sometimes I miss very much California, I miss those sunsets—you know the ones I mean—but most of all what I miss from California is something one finds nowhere else on earth . . .”
“Taquitos?”
Sonia laughed; her laughter rolled around them like soft pearls.
“Well, that, too,” she said. “But what I really miss is the sea. Are you still by the sea?”
“It’s out my window,” Jacaranda said. “It’s only three blocks from me.”
“Ahhh, very good,” Sonia said. “I remember how I feel the first time I see you there—jealous. So beautiful it was. You go still?”
“Tomorrow,” Jacaranda said, standing now by the threshold about to go home. “Tomorrow morning.”