I quickly identified the Hotel Camino, as it was the only hotel in the area, and went inside. At this point, I could tell that if I didn’t sit down, I was going to pass out. I went into the hotel bar and scanned the room for Theobroma Marquez. I looked for a girl who resembled Sophia, though aside from her height, I found I could barely remember anything about her. The bartender had not yet come on duty. The only one there was a boy around my age.

“Buenos días,” he said to me.

I really was on the verge of fainting—rather Victorian of me, I know—and so I sat down at one of the tables. I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my hair.

I became aware that the boy was staring at me. It made me self-conscious so I put my hat back on. The boy came over to my table. He was grinning, and I felt as if I were the punch line to some great joke. “Anya Barnum?” That settled it. I was relieved to know that I was a girl, but not a Balanchine. This seemed a fine compromise. He offered me his hand. “Theobroma Marquez, but everyone calls me Theo.” The name was pronounced Tay-oh. I was also relieved that Theo spoke English.

“Theo,” I repeated. Though he was short, Theo looked sturdy and strong. He had eyes so brown they were almost black, and dark eyelashes like a horse’s. He had stubble that indicated the beginnings of a beard and mustache. It was sacrilegious to say it, but he looked a bit like a Spanish Jesus to me.

“Lo siento, lo siento. I did not recognize you at first,” he said. “They said you would be pretty.” He laughed as he said this, not in a mean way, and I didn’t feel all that offended that I’d just been called ugly.

“They told me you were going to be a girl,” I replied.

Theo laughed at that, too. “It’s this estúpido name of mine. A family name, though, so what can I do? Are you hungry? It’s a long drive to Chiapas.”

“Chiapas? I thought I was staying at a cacao farm in Oaxaca.”

“You cannot grow cacao in the state of Oaxaca, Anya Barnum.” He said this in a patient voice that indicated he was dealing with someone impossibly ignorant. “Granja Mañana is in Ixtapa, Chiapas. My family supplies to and has chocolate factories in Oaxaca, which is why I am the one who has to get you today.”

Oaxaca or Chiapas. It didn’t matter either way, I supposed. “So, are you hungry or not?” Theo asked.

I shook my head. I was hungry but I was also eager to get to my destination. I told him I needed to use the bathroom, and then we could be on our way.

In the bathroom, I took a moment to consider myself in the mirror. Theo was right. I wasn’t pretty anymore, but luckily, I wasn’t all that vain either. Besides, I had a boyfriend, sort of, and I wasn’t in the mood for seducing boys anyhow. I washed my face, paying special attention to the sticky residue

that the mustache adhesive had left on my upper lip, and slicked back my hair. (Readers, how I did miss that mane of mine!) I threw the necktie into the trash, rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, and wentback out to join Theo.

Theo studied me. “You are less hideous already.” “Thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Come, the car’s over here.” I followed him out of the bar. “Where are your things?” I told the same lie about them being shipped.

“No matter. My sister will lend you whatever you need.”

Theo’s “car” was a green pickup truck. On the side, GRANJA MAÑANA was painted in gold, and beneath that was a grouping of what I thought at the time were leaves in fall colors.

As it was a big step up to the truck, Theo offered me his hand. “Anya,” he said with a furrowed brow, “don’t tell my sister I said you weren’t pretty. She thinks I have no manners already. I probably don’t, but…” He smiled at me. I suspected that smile got him out of (and into) all sorts of trouble.

We drove out of the town of Puerto Escondido and onto a strip of road that had a wall of green mountains and rain forest on one side and ocean on the other. “So, you’re friends with Cousin Sophia?” asked Theo.

I nodded.

“And you’re here to study cacao farming?” I nodded again.

“You have a lot to learn.” He was probably thinking of the apparently hugely embarrassing gaffe I had made in thinking that cacao was grown in Oaxaca.

Theo gave me a sidelong glance. “You’re from the United States. Is your family in chocolate?” I paused. “Not really,” I lied.

“I only ask because many of Sophia’s friends are in chocolate.”

I didn’t know if Theo or the Marquezes could be trusted. Before I’d left New York, Simon Green had told me that he thought it would be best if I kept my history to myself as much as possible. Luckily, Theo did not pry any further on this point. “How old are you?” he asked. “You look like a little baby.”

It was the hair. I lied again, “I’m nineteen.” I had decided that it would be better for me not to be seventeen, and saying eighteen sounded more fake to me somehow.

“We’re the same age,” Theo informed me. “I’ll be twenty in January. I’m the baby of the family, and that’s why I’m so spoiled. Circumstance has turned me into a petted, silly lapdog.”

“Who else is there?”

“My sister Luna. She is twenty-three and very nosy. Like with me, you can say, ‘Oh, Theo, my family, they are not really in chocolate,’ and I won’t press. Your business is your business. But with her, you should have a better answer, so you know. And then there’s my brother, Ca twenty-nine. He is at home through the weekend but usually he is off studying to be a priest. He is very serious, and you won’t like him at all.”

I laughed. “I like serious people.”

“No, I am kidding. Everyone falls in love with Castillo. He is very handsome and everyone’s favorite. But you shouldn’t like him better than me, just because I am not serious.”

“I’ll probably like him better than you if he manages not to call me ugly in the first minute of my knowing him,” I told him.

“I thought we were over all of that. I explained! I apologized!” “You did?”

“In my head, sí, sí. My English is not that good. Lo siento!”

His English seemed fine to me. I decided then and there that Theo was lovable and awful and that most of what he said was going to be nonsense. Theo turned the truck onto a different road that led uphill and away from the ocean. He continued, “I have another sister, Isabelle, who is a married lady and lives in Mexico City. And then there is Mama, Abuela, and Nana. Mama runs the business. Abuela and Nana know all the secret recipes and they do the cooking. They will think you are too skinny.”

I felt sad at the mention of the name Nana. “Abuela is your grandmother, right? So, who is your nana?”

“My bisabuela,” he repliedime in your family,” I commented.

“The women, sí. They are strong. The men, not so much. We have weak hearts.” An old woman was pushing a cart filled with a yellow fruit that looked like an overgrown apple down the side of the road. Theo pulled the truck over. “Excuse me, Anya. Her house is not far, but I know her back bothers her when it rains. I will return in less than ten minutes. Don’t drive off without me.” Theo got out of the truck and ran over to the woman. She kissed him on both cheeks, and he began pushing the cart down the road and then disappeared with the woman into an opening in the forest.

Theo returned to the truck with a piece of the fruit in each hand. “For you,” he said, placing one of the large fruits in my hand. “Maracuyá. Passion fruit.”

“Thank you,” I said. I hadn’t ever had or even seen one before. Theo restarted the truck. “Do you have a great love, Anya Barnum?” “I don’t know what you mean.”

“A great love! A grand passion!” “Do you mean a boyfriend?” I asked.

“Sí, a boyfriend, if you favor such a boring word. Is there someone who you’ll weep for and who weeps for you back at home?”