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Every Saturday I tell the neighbors I am helping at my cousin's boutique. It is easier than explaining why Nathan leaves the building with a garment bag and Nadia returns after midnight in a different dress. Tonight Mrs. Alvarez catches me beside the lift before I can lower my eyes. I expect the burgundy dress, long blonde hair, and careful makeup to become evidence against me. Instead, she says Nadia always looks happier than the man who hurries past her each morning. Then she presses a plain envelope into my hand and explains that her daughter is cooking dinner tomorrow.

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