“If that’s true, it’s mutual. I’ve asked Mrs. Butterworth several times to send someone else to my table, but she is either deaf to my concerns or finds it ridiculously satisfying to frustrate me.”
“Either is possible, I suppose.”
Victorine’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “Stop delaying. Tell me what you know about Roen.”
Martin tapped the newspaper. “It’s in here. They were married Friday two weeks past. Too late for it to be announced in the previous edition.” His eyes swiveled to the table near the front window. “Do you see that man there? The one with the heavy mustache and talking to the sheriff?”
Victorine turned her head slightly. “That man with him is the sheriff? I didn’t know. So who is he?”
“Judge Miner. He performed the civil ceremony for Mr. Shepard and his bride.”
“Not a church wedding?”
“You can read it for yourself.” He pushed the paper toward her.
She pushed it back. “So he wasn’t lying as you suspected. He’s truly married.”
“Yes, I was wrong, but if you will note the date, you will understand the wedding occurred shortly after your telegram arrived. It may be of small comfort to you, but even if our train hadn’t been delayed by that snowstorm, you would not have arrived in time to stop it. The ceremony would seem to have been hastily arranged.”
“What are you implying? That he hurried the wedding in anticipation of my arrival?”
Martin held up his hands with the thought of warding her off in the event she pounced. She was already leaning in.
“That’s your not-so-subtle way of reminding me you tried to stop me from sending that telegram. I didn’t appreciate it then, and I don’t appreciate what you’re saying now. You will kindly keep your suppositions to yourself.”
“As you wish.” Martin lowered his hands, unfolded his napkin, and spread it across his lap. He cast his eyes toward the paper and began to read. “Lower your voice,” he said without lifting his head. “It’s pitched in a way that will attract attention.”
Straightening, Victorine laughed lightly as if he had said something witty. “What is the rest?” she asked after taking a few moments to calm down. “Who did he marry?”
“Lily Salt.”
“That’s it? That’s all you know?”
“That’s all the paper announces.” It was true. He didn’t tell her that he knew a great deal more, owing to his conversation with Amanda Springer in the butcher shop and Frankie Fuller on one of his errands to the boardinghouse. He liked the irony of Victorine sending Frankie with messages for him when she could have learned almost everything from the boy if she had considered him the least consequential.
“I could have read that for myself.”
“But you didn’t. You haven’t.”
“Didn’t you talk to anyone?”
“I will. You’ll know everything I know tomorrow. Shall we say two o’clock? I’ve observed you take a walk around that time.”
Victorine frowned but nodded. Their food arrived, and they ate without another word passing between them.
•••
Roen was up before Lily and cracking eggs into the skillet when she came upon him. He held out one arm and pulled her to his side. He bussed her on the cheek while expertly opening an egg with his free hand and stacking the shell with the others. He would have liked to kiss her long and hard and deep but was aware of four pairs of eyes at the table watching him closely. Roen knew better than to think they were interested in him kissing their mother. They’d grown accustomed to it over these last few days. It did not arouse comment; although sometimes he caught them exchanging knowing looks.
No, they had no curiosity about the kissing. They were hungry. Ham had already announced it twice and patted his growling stomach as evidence. They cared very much that he didn’t burn the eggs or the toast or the bacon. He released Lily and put her in charge of turning the bacon.
“You’re wearing your outside-the-town clothes, Da,” Clay said. “I reckon that means you’ll be riding out today. I didn’t get your horses. I didn’t know you were going anywhere.”
“I only decided last night after you’d gone to bed. It’s all right. I can manage it this once. You can take them back when I return.” He slipped a turner under one of the frying eggs to make sure it was hardening on the bottom. “You recall that problem I was helping you with last night?”
“I sure do. Did you show it to Ma like I told you?”
“I did, and you were right. She figured it out. She’s going to explain it to you later because she’ll make a better job of it than I did.”
