Amparo filled a glass with ice and cold water and carried it out.
Daniela was no longer beside the stroller. She was standing at the tiled edge of the pool with her arms folded, and the stroller had been moved — two metres from where it had been, turned so that it faced the water.
“Señorita, the baby—”
“It’s fine,” Daniela cut in. “I just moved him a little. For the shade.”
There was no shade there. Amparo saw that clearly, and she felt it in her stomach before her mind could finish the thought. She set the glass down on the small table and stayed close, her hands damp, her heart tapping too fast for no reason she could name.
The wind moved through the lemon tree. The water made that soft lapping sound Amparo had always found calming.
That afternoon it sounded like a warning.
