But she would not have freedom.
And if her stepmother could prevent it, she would not have a husband either.
The first man who asked about her was Julián Ferrer, an honest merchant from the neighboring town. He had seen her in the market calmly resolving a dispute between two suppliers. He admired the way she spoke, her composure, her habit of listening before answering.
He visited the house formally to ask permission to court her.
Doña Mercedes received him with coffee, perfect manners, and a flawless lie.
She told him Alicia was going through a delicate situation and was not in a position to receive attention.
Julián left confused.
Alicia never knew he had come.
The second was Gabriel Castañeda, a young notary with a good reputation. He too was gently rejected, with words polite enough that he could not argue them.
And Alicia knew nothing about him either.
All she knew was that something in her life was being withheld.
As if every door that could lead her to a future of her own narrowed just before she could cross it.
Then came the news that stirred the entire region.
Don Cristóbal de Montenegro had returned from the capital with the intention—according to rumor—of marrying that very year.
He was thirty-five years old, immensely wealthy, with lands, vineyards, cattle, and an impeccable reputation. He was not a man given to scandal or easy flirtation.
Precisely for that reason, every mother with an unmarried daughter saw him as the opportunity of a lifetime.
Doña Mercedes did too.
From that day on, everything in the house revolved around Rebeca and Zulema.
Piano lessons.
New dresses.
