"Do you want to go back? I'll walk with you to the gate-house."
"O.K. Just a second. Let's enjoy this."
Oliver refilled his cup. "Getting nippy," he said.
"Snow anytime," Francesca said. She looked at him and smiled—something to share, their snow. "Conor's not been happy with me. He plays around. It's a mess."
"Oh."
"I don't know what to do. We've been talking about making a change, spending the winter in Costa Rica. He says that his job isn't going anywhere; he wants a break to decide what to do next."
"Oh." Oliver tried for a bright side. "You could practice your Spanish."
"We could argue in Spanish," she said.
"What's his problem? Not that it's any of my business."
"I don't know. Mommy, I suppose. Conor tends to think that the world owes him a living. Conor's world is 95% female. He's cute and needy and out-front about it; there's always some woman ready to give him what he wants."