Excerpt from Fonseca by Jessica Francis Kane, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"That sounds right. Very few adventures begin and end in England. Where was the boat's port of call?"

"New York," Valpy answered.

"Good. One of you can take the bus back there." She took Valpy's hand, suggesting Penelope would be the one returning.

Penelope countered with a hand to Valpy's shoulder. "But I notified Doña Elena that we were both coming."

"I don't remember that letter."

"Yet you know it was a letter."

"How else would you have told her?"

"I might have sent a telegram. Or phoned."

The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. "Too expensive." She adjusted the marigold behind her ear. "We expected you yesterday."

"I'm sorry. We were delayed in San Antonio."

"That was the terrible part," Valpy said.

The housekeeper nodded as if she understood, but how could she have known what happened?

The three stood on the doorstep, seemingly at an impasse. Finally Penelope said, "This is ridiculous! He's only six years old. He never could have made this journey alone."

"Why?" the housekeeper said, scrutinizing Valpy. "Is there something wrong with him?"

Valpy shook his head.

"Of course not," Penelope said. "But it would be a very long journey for so young a child."

"How far is it?"

Valpy knew the exact mileage from the front door of their house, Chestnut Lodge, Hampstead, London, to the doorstep where they were standing in Zona Centro, Fonseca, Mexico.

"That is far," the housekeeper said. "He should be with his mother."

Penelope was relieved. "Now we agree. I am his mother."

The housekeeper sighed. She stepped backward, pulling the door with her. "I am Chela. Welcome to Mirando."

Penelope didn't move. "I thought this was the Delaney house?"

"Yes, yes, come in."

It was an inauspicious, topsy-turvy start, and Penelope never forgot it.


The large, wood-paneled front hall was decorated for the holiday with potted marigolds lining both sides of the wide center staircase. These were mostly orange, orange threaded with darker orange, and a few yellow here and there. They must have just been watered, for the smell of damp soil filled the hall. Convivial sounds came from the floor above, and there was opera playing somewhere.

"Are you having a party?" Valpy looked hopeful for the first time since they'd knocked.

"No," Chela said. "Those people are here just like you. The Doñas are in the cemetery. Leave your trunk for Jesús." Chela looked at Valpy and then spelled for his benefit. "That's J-E-S-U-S. He will bring it up."

Penelope was troubled by some of this information and Valpy was wide-eyed, but there was no time for questions. Chela moved fast for one so round around the middle. At the top of the staircase, she turned left, then right to the bottom of a smaller staircase. She took this to the third floor and turned right again down a tiled hall, where she stopped in front of a door that looked like it might have once been painted blue.

"Come down when you're ready," she said, not in the least out of breath, "but not before five o'clock. Mr. Azuela will be finished with his report by then. The washroom is down the hall. You'll be sharing with the Tuttles. For some reason they like to say their room faces the sea, but it is six hundred kilometers to the east. Your room faces the mountains, the beautiful Sierra Madre. But don't be fooled. They are farther than they seem."

"Tuttles?" Penelope said.

"An organist and his wife from Ireland. Penniless. No one can remember how long they've been here."

"Do they also have a son?" She had not expected competition.

Chela laughed. "Not that I've seen!" She looked more seriously at Valpy. "Why? Are you worried about being lonely? There is plenty to do at Mirando. We have a garden and chickens, and a flock of mourning doves roosts on the roof. There is also a cat, Pax. He does what he likes and goes where he pleases."

Excerpted from Fonseca by Jessica Francis Kane. Copyright © 2025 by Jessica Francis Kane. Excerpted by permission of Penguin Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.