He looked like a gentleman, but as Cándido had pointed out, she knew little of his friends and associates. She had the nagging sensation that rather than purchasing a thoroughbred, she’d bought a horse without a pedigree.
“I think you might be right. It would be best if we took the car to Mexico City and sold that equipment you left behind,” she said, breaking the silence in the room.
He looked up at her, his gaze meeting her own in the mirror. “You want to go with me?”
“Why not? I could meet your friends while we’re there.”
“I suppose it would be fine, although the timing might be a bit of an issue. I don’t think we could go anytime soon. The friend I left the equipment with is traveling, and I don’t expect he’ll be back for a few months. Let me send a few letters and figure out a timeline.”
He turned a page of his book, then paused, pressing a finger against his lip, as if considering a complicated math problem. “It might be wise to wait to sell anything anyway. Nowadays, with the economy the way it is, it’s hard to get a fair price. We could revisit the issue later.”
Perla found herself analyzing each word. He was vague, and his effortless tone of voice struck her as a bit hollow, a bit rehearsed.
“Later when?” she asked testily.
“I don’t know. Let me write to this fellow and see when he’s coming home.”
“Wouldn’t someone else have the key?”
“Sorry?”
“Wouldn’t someone have the key to the house where you left your equipment? A housekeeper? An associate?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.
“If we went to Mexico City, we could make a honeymoon out of the trip. We haven’t had a proper honeymoon. Our marriage was hasty.”
Too hasty,she thought. Although she had a habit of being hasty at times, a habit of seeking comfort in the arms of strangers.
He set the book aside and stood up. He smiled as he approached her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Dearest, is that what’s bothering you? If you want to honeymoon in Mexico City, we could go there. Frankly I’d rather head to the beach and admire you in a bathing suit, but I won’t say no to a honeymoon in the capital.”
“Why did you have to shave without telling me beforehand?” she asked.
“Don’t tell me you’re still annoyed about that. It was a bit of soap and a razor; I did not think you’d be offended. Has it made me appallingly ugly?” he asked, rubbing a hand against his cheek and laughing.
“It makes you look like a child.”
“Surely not.”
She clutched the hairbrush tight. “It does, and in turn it makes me look silly. It makes it obvious you’re younger than me.”
“It’s not a crime.”
“No, but it’s ridiculous! When a woman is forty-three her husband is not supposed to be thirty-eight and look like a child. They’ll say I’m a desperate spinster who married a boy.”
“They’re not going to say that.”
“They wouldn’t say it to me, but they would think it. That’s even worse.”
She slammed the brush down. All at once she realized that what Cándido had said was true. That she’d married a stranger and that this stranger might not be worth much in the end. That instead of buying gold, she’d purchased tin, no matter how polished and bright it might be. But she’d been swept away, heedless. She’d thought they envied her in town for her marriage, but what if they pitied her?
“I’ll grow a mustache and a beard, yes? Don’t be angry,” Ulises said,placating her. Then he leaned down over her shoulder and kissed her neck. “A couple of days and I’ll look exactly like I did this morning. Will that make you happy?”
“A little.”
“And we’ll honeymoon in Mexico City later this year. Yes, we must.”
The answer should have comforted her, and it did, in part. Ulises slid his hands down her arms and drew her toward the bed.
