The magic changed. The wave that had swept through her for so long had been about art, and the love of art, the joy of paint spread on canvas and lines drawn on paper. Now it was the love of Rosa. She saw herself reflected in four sets of eyes, Marco and Alfonso and Sergio and Nadia, a mirror far kinder than any piece of glass. She saw her uncle’s delight in her curiosity and her cousin’s fierce desire to protect her from harm and her aunt’s sneaky glee in having another girl around the studio that she could lock eyes with and roll her eyes and go, “Men!”
