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great, big, fat piece of her mind, the
intolerable snob. What she’d like to do is knock him flat with the
big cast-iron skillet she used to cook dinner every night. Except
this one.
    The only other times Mari had eaten in a
restaurant, someone else had done the ordering. She’d been very
little at the time, maybe five or six, and no one had expected her
to be anything but shy, naive, and reserved.
    It was her misfortune to be a grown-up woman
now and unable to retire into the security of childhood. People
naturally expected a child to be inexperienced. She still knew
nothing about dining out, but she no longer had any good excuses
for her ignorance. Except poverty and lack of sophistication, and
they didn’t count, being more apt to be ridiculed than
understood.
    Thank God she and the waitress who was
serving their table this evening were friends. Judy Nelson, whose
parents operated the Mojave Inn, and Mari had gone to school
together. Mari smiled up at her “Hi, Judy. How’s Pete doing?” Pete,
Judy’s brother and twelve years old, had recently broken an arm
when he’d fallen out of Mr. Nelson’s wagon as they were driving to
San Bernardino.
    Judy eyed Mari in obvious amazement, a fact
that went unappreciated by Mari herself. She did, however, vow to
attempt to make herself look more like a lady from now on. If
seeing her in a dress had this effect on her fellow Mojave-ites, it
was past time she did something to boost her image.
    “Pete’s doing pretty well, Mari. He’s tired
of being laid up and is being a perfect pig, though.” Judy
grimaced, thus demonstrating her filial devotion. She went on, “My
goodness, but aren’t you all dolled up tonight? You look swell.”
Judy sounded as if she’d never encountered a more flabbergasting
sight in her life than Mari looking swell.
    Mari felt her lips pinch together and made an
effort to relax them. No sense advertising her discomposure. “I’m
here tonight on business.” She tried to make the remark sound
casual, as if such things happened to her all the time. Judy, of
course, knew better and let all three of them at the table know it
with the dubious lift of her eyebrows.
    “Oh. How nice.” Judy gave up on Mari and
turned to the men. Mari blessed her silently. The waitress’s gaze
seemed to get stuck on Tony. She simpered and tugged her apron
straight, and Mari retracted her silent blessing. “You want the
steak or the pot roast?”
    With a roll of her eyes, Mari decided it
would be a good thing if Judy got out more, saw more of the world.
A body would think this was the first time she’d ever seen an
attractive man, the way she gawked at Tony Ewing. She was so
obvious, Mari wanted to hit her. She also wanted to hit Tony, who
gave Judy one of his winning smiles. He had never smiled at Mari
like that. The only smiles Mari ever got from the big snooty
moneybags were nasty ones.
    “Do you have a preference, Miss
Pottersby?”
    Mari jerked her head in Martin’s direction.
She’d forgotten all about him, which had been a big mistake since
he was the nice one of these two men. She undertook to deliver a
gracious smile. “I don’t think it makes much difference. I hear
they’re both pretty bad.”
    Judy muttered something that Mari didn’t
catch. Served her right, though. Judy had no business flirting with
the customers. Mari sniffed and tried to look superior. Since she’d
never done such a thing before, she wasn’t confident about the
outcome.
    Tony sent her a scowl. Mari scowled back. It
would serve him right if the food here made him sick.
    Martin cleared his throat. Mari got the
feeling he wished he could clear the air so easily. She felt guilty
for a second, before she remembered that these men were here to try
to cheat her. She sat up straighter in her chair and said, “I
believe I’ll have the pot roast, thank you.”
    “One pot roast.” Martin smiled with relief
and turned to Tony, who was still frowning at Mari. He said,
“Tony?”
    His