Mary Beth had tried hard to always act like nothing much was the matter.

“We’ve all changed,” Alma insisted. “Just because you weren’t in that car doesn’t mean the crash didn’t affect you.”

Mary Beth silently conceded the point.

“You’ve got to be honest with yourself about whether you want to go on, Mary Beth.”

Mary Beth had no answer to that. “Bobby Joe and I are going to talk when he comes back.”

Alma heaved a sigh. “Sometimes that can help. But even before the hospital and all that, we—Howard and I—could see that things weren’t going well. Him going right back into business doesn’t help.”

Did his mother know how much Parr had poured into Robert Joseph Weston and Associates? Mary Beth doubted it. It would be a while before there was actual income. There had been some interest in the properties posted on the office walls. But nothing Bobby Joe could take to the bank.

“I just hope he succeeds at it, and that it’s what he really wants to do,” Mary Beth said.

Whatever happened, Mary Beth knew by now that Bobby Joe would put himself first. Her career wasn’t something he’d ever paid much attention to.

“I suppose it will work out one way or another. Should I be optimistic?”

Alma looked to Mary Beth as if expecting an answer. Mary Beth gave an infinitesimal shrug that was neither a yes or a no. Alma waited for several moments before she spoke again.

“Maybe the accident just postponed the inevitable. I wish it wasn’t that way, but I’m prepared to accept what has to be.”

Mary Beth leaned across the table and patted Alma’s hands, aware of the tension in the older woman’s tightly clenched fingers.

“Bobby Joe and I haven’t made any decision one way or another,” Mary Beth said gently. “But you’re right. Things are rocky at the moment. Maybe I should have confided in you.”

Alma shook her head. “I understand why you wouldn’t. It’s not necessary, Mary Beth.”

“I feel so bad about you worrying.”

Alma unclasped her hands and spread her fingers on the table, fiddling with a sterling silver band set with turquoise that she’d had forever. She still wasn’t wearing an engagement ring, Mary Beth thought absently. Her dad must be waiting for the right moment.

“Now, now. Just thought I’d say my piece, that was all.”

Mary Beth put her hands in her lap. The diamond rings Bobby Joe had given her felt heavier every day.

“I understand.” She was beginning to, anyway. It occurred to Mary Beth that her own mother, had she lived, would have had similar concerns. “I appreciate it, Alma. But I think we should change the subject.”

The older woman seemed relieved. “You bet.”