The Dogs of Mexico (43 page)

Ana turned, smiling, eyes bright with promise, watching the couple stroll away. She turned back to Robert and lifted one hand. “Way to go man,” she whispered in imitation.
 

He high-fived her, then took her hand in his again.
 

She watched him from under lowered brows, a touch of mischief. “You want to know what I think?”

“You’re going to tell me, regardless, right?”

“I think we should go back to our room and see what develops.”
 

He smiled a little. “Great minds think alike.”

He stood, took several bills from his wallet, and placed them on the table. Ana stood in turn and picked up her strapped purse. She caught her hand in the crook of his elbow.
 

Yes. This is a good place,
he thought, walking with her across the Jardín Unión, its square-cut stone paving radiating warmth in the mild sunshine.
A good place
.
 

THEIR WAITER,
an old man stooped with arthritis, stood in the shade alongside the restaurant’s doorway, a white cloth draped over his forearm. With a forlorn smile tinged with bitterness, he watched the gringo couple walking away.
Ah, how good to be so happy, so carefree. These soft Yanquis, they know nothing of life’s difficulties, its dangers, its hardships. Well,
he mused,
these two, they are good tippers. I wish them great happiness for tomorrow and forever after.

—o—

For other books by this author:

http://www.amazon.com/John-J-Asher/e/B008FBZKL0

Acknowledgments

Thanks
to Tiffany Yates Martin, Kelly Harrell, and Amber Novak, three excellent writers, razor-sharp critiquers, and beloved friends. Without your red pens and editorial input over many a good meal and a few glasses of wine, this novel wouldn’t exist. To each of you, I am eternally grateful.

Thanks also to Deanna Roy of
Casey Shay Press
, and Lara Reznik of
Enchanted Indie Press
for your continued support and friendship, for your priceless suggestions and technical expertise.
 

—o—