“Oh,” Andrea flushed, and then glanced quickly to Dante and back before mumbling, “Yes. It’s fine.”
“The wedding was beautiful,” Carol put in when Andrea didn’t say anything else. Smiling at Dante, she added, “They held it here along the river. The pictures turned out really nice.”
Mary nodded as if she cared, and then glanced to the blackboards and quickly gave her order. The others followed and Andrea slipped away to take their order to the cook.
“I think our Andrea is a little taken with you, Dante,” Dave said with amusement once the girl was out of earshot.
“Any red-blooded female would be,” Carol said on a laugh and then teased, “If I were thirty or so years younger, Dave would have something to worry about with you here.”
“You flatter me,” Dante said with a smile and leaned to the side to pet Bailey as she moved to sit on the ground behind him and Mary.
Carol frowned and then glanced to Mary and asked, “I don’t remember any of your or Dave’s siblings moving to Italy.”
Mary’s eyes widened with confusion. “None of them did.”
“But Dante has an Italian accent,” she pointed out and then said, “Oh, is this one of Joe’s chil—” She broke off sharply as she realized what she was saying. Eyes wide with alarm, Carol turned to her husband for help.
Rolling his eyes with disgust at her gaff, he changed the subject abruptly by announcing, “Carol thinks we should sell up and move back to Winnipeg.”
Mary had frozen at Carol’s words. She now glanced quickly to Dante, noting that he was staring at Carol with the same concentration he’d had in his eyes as he’d looked back at her the first time she’d seen him lying on her RV floor. Had he been trying to read her mind then? she wondered. And was he now reading Carol’s thoughts to find out what she’d been talking about? The possibility was a humiliating one for Mary. Forcing a smile to her face, she said quietly, “You mentioned that when I stopped in the fall. But you didn’t seem interested.”
“He isn’t,” Carol said unhappily.
“Of course not,” Dave said with a grimace. “It’s damned cold in Winnipeg in the winter, and I’m too old to be shoveling snow.”
“We could get an apartment,” Carol argued at once. “Besides, I miss the kids, and the grandbabies are growing up so fast.”
“They visit,” Dave pointed out with irritation.
“Once a year,” Carol countered. “I want to see them more than that.”
“You could always visit them up there,” Dave pointed out. “I told you. You should go this summer and stay a couple months, then come back for the winter. We’d be driving an RV down here for the winter anyway if we didn’t own this place. In fact,” he continued, “If you want you could get a small apartment and stay there for the summers, we could afford that. Then you could come back in the fall for the busy season.”
Carol frowned at the suggestion. “And leave you here alone all summer?”
“I’d have help running the place,” he pointed out dryly. “I’d be fine.”
Her mouth tightened. “Don’t you want to see your grandchildren too?”
“I see them when they visit,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Hell, I probably wouldn’t see them any more than that if we lived in Winnipeg. Their lives are so busy, they wouldn’t have time for us old fogies. Look, here comes Andrea with the drinks.”
Carol opened her mouth as if to continue the argument, but then just sat back with a sigh and shook her head wearily as Andrea arrived at the table and began to set out the coffees and juices they’d ordered.
Mary murmured a thank-you as the girl set an orange juice and cup of coffee in front of her, and then glanced from Dave to Carol with concern. It was obvious that Carol wasn’t happy, and it seemed equally obvious that Dave didn’t care. He was happy with their life the way it was and was unwilling to bend. She had noticed that Dave had suggested Carol go north alone if she wanted, not even mentioning the possibility of his joining her for part of the time. It seemed after forty years of marriage, there was trouble between the Bigelows.
Once Andrea had left, Dave turned the conversation to attractions in the area that Dante might like to see. Mary noticed that Dante murmured politely in response to each suggestion, but didn’t encourage him much, and then the food arrived and the conversation dwindled as they tucked into their meal.
Dave often claimed they had the best cook in Texas working for them, and Mary couldn’t argue the point. Every meal she’d ever had at the Round Up had been excellent, and this breakfast was no exception. She would have enjoyed it more, however, had the mood at the table been less tense. Where she usually enjoyed visiting with Dave and Carol, this time she was actually glad when one of the workers hurried to the table as they finished their meal and dragged Carol and Dave away to deal with an unhappy camper.
“I’m sorry, we’ll visit more later,” Carol said apologetically as they rushed away.
Mary murmured in agreement, but was kind of hoping that later never came. She knew if Carol got her alone she’d have more questions about Dante that she just had no idea how to answer. And Mary really didn’t want to get in the middle of the argument Carol and Dave were having about moving or not moving. Her advice to Carol would be to do whatever the hell she wanted. If she wanted to move back to Winnipeg to be close to her kids, then do it. Life was too damned short to constantly push your own desires down and always do what others wanted. On her deathbed, Mary’s mother had told her to follow her dreams, that on her own deathbed she wouldn’t lie there patting herself on the back for all the times she was so good and kindhearted and did what others wanted, she’d be regretting all the things she’d wanted to do and hadn’t.
Mary hadn’t always followed that advice, but the older she got, the more she recognized the sense behind the words. Her mother hadn’t been suggesting she act without considering others. She’d just been saying to be kind to herself as well as to others. Her own wants and needs should be at least as important as those of the others in her life. Because, frankly, if you didn’t care about yourself, no one would, and you’d spend your life living for others.
“Your husband was unfaithful,” Dante said bluntly once they’d left the restaurant and started the return walk to the RV.
Mary’s hand tightened on Bailey’s leash at that comment. He obviously had read Carol’s thoughts. Either that or he’d realized the significance of what Carol had stopped herself saying. “Oh, is this one of Joe’s chil—” Joe’s children was what she’d started to say. One of his biological children, not with her, but with one of the many women he’d had affairs with over a fifteen-year period during the first part of their marriage.
“I told you he wasn’t perfect,” she muttered with a shrug.
“Yes. But you neglected to tell me he was repeatedly unfaithful to you during your marriage,” he said grimly, sounding angry on her behalf. “That is a little less than imperfect.”
“It was during the early years of our marriage,” she said quietly. “But he made up for it during the last half of our marriage. He was the best husband a woman could ask for then.”
“He was not,” Dante assured her. “He simply got better at hiding his indiscretions.”
“What?” Mary asked sharply, her steps halting. Then she scowled at him. “You don’t know that.”
“I read both Carol and Dave,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened with alarm. “He and Carol didn’t . . . ?”
“No. Carol, like you, is a faithful wife,” he assured her solemnly.
Mary let her breath out on a sigh. She and Carol had been good friends for a long, long time. The thought that she could have betrayed her like that would have been crushing. Which was ironic, she supposed. She should have been more distressed at Joe’s betrayal had they had an affair. Instead, it was Carol’s betrayal that would have hurt more. She supposed it was because she’d long ago given up any hope of being able to trust her husband in that regard. At least back then.