He fingered the tag. "They started out at forty-something but I only paid seven dollars, if you can believe it!"

"I can believe it. They look as if someone slept in them." She stepped gently into her skirt and with a slight shimmy of her narrow hips adjusted it. "It would cost more than seven dollars to have them dry cleaned and pressed."

"They're supposed to be wrinkled-it's the casual look-sexy. Most guys who wear cool duds like these don't even shave." He rubbed his chin.

"Shave."

"Don't you want me to look sexy?"

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"Unshaven may be cool in Hollywood but in Ouray, you'd just look like a bum." She pulled on her top, buttoned it, and chose a pin from her jewelry box. Cynthia took advantage of their infrequent occasions of dinning out to dress more than Ouray required, simply because it was one of few opportunities for her to do so. After a pirouette of approval, she sat on the edge of the bed. When the show was over, Dean carefully laid out his new slacks over the back of his chair and reluctantly went to shower-and shave. Cynthia was still in the room when he returned, towel wrapped and shaking his wet head.

"There's more troubling Martha than just leaving," his wife said. "I know leaving is upsetting, but something else is bothering her." She looked up at her husband as he began to dress "It's as if she's done something wrong and wants to talk about it but doesn't know how."

"What makes you say that?"

Cynthia detailed the morning conversation. "She acts like you should spank her and force her admit to doing something she considers really bad." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Or maybe she just wants to prove to herself someone actually loves her enough and cares about her enough to punish her."

"By hurting her? What kind of backward thinking is that? The poor kid can't be that mixed up, can she?"

"God knows. I just hope there isn't something truly important she's trying to tell us but is too afraid to say. Maybe something to do with her mother-like her mother mistreats her or beats her?"

Dean thought a moment. "No, I don't think so. Her mother's been in jail half of Martha's life while the poor kid's been shuffled around God knows where. My sense is they hardly know each other. Martha seems to have a pretty good read on Patsy and she's always been candid talking about her. She acts more sorry for the woman, or exasperated, than afraid of her." He stepped into his new trousers, inhaling deeply before buttoning them.




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