e her daughter, Heather. I like being
'Uncle Ollie.' "

"Already, I'm a disruptive influence," Jennifer said.

"We could have a good time," Oliver said. "They're going to roast a
turkey at Deweys."

"I could make some pies."

"Solid. I'll call Amanda when we get home."

"I'll go get my clothes." She looked at him for confirmation.

Oliver nodded. It was a done deal. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No. It will be easier if I just go."

"O.K. I'll get some food."

Later, in Shop 'N Save, Oliver marveled at how easy it was to start
living with someone. He made reasonable guesses at what Jennifer might
like to eat. He remembered chamomile tea. I was married once, he
reminded himself. I know how to do this. A baby? That seemed unreal.
Yet he had felt it, secure and growing. Probably, Jennifer shouldn't
drink too much. He bought a bottle of Merlot and a six pack of ale. He
bought organic corn chips made with what he thought was the good kind
of fat. She said that she wanted to make pies. Better leave that stuff
to her, he thought. We can get baking dishes at The Whip and Spoon on
Commercial Street. It would be nice if that programming work came
through. He should follow up with Gifford Sims. Jennifer was still
working. She could help with the bills.

He made two trips up the stairs with armloads of groceries. Porter's
car was parked in front. It had been there often, lately. Oliver
wondered if he had moved in. "The house is filling up, Verdi." He put
away the food, listening to Van Morrison and The Chieftains. His eye
caught the heart that Francesca had drawn--probably not a good idea to
leave it there. He peeled the tape from the wall, folded the heart
carefully, and put it with the Marsh and Cooley account information in
a brown manila envelope. Something told him to keep the account and
Francesca to himself. If he could put Francesca in a separate place,
keep her from Jennifer, he wouldn't have to choose between them. He was
uneasy about this, but he didn't know what else to do. He had a plastic
filing box where he kept his income tax information returns. He slid
the envelope into the folder for the oldest year, closed the box, and
put it in a corner of the closet.

"I'm home, Handsome!" Oliver trotted downstairs and took a load of
clothes from Jennifer.

"I'll put them on the couch for now," he said. "I'll make some shelves
or something. How did it go?"

"Fantastic. Rupert was just leaving when I got t