breasts and then
curved slightly out and back into dark slacks. "Athletic momma," George
said.

"That's a title," Oliver said. "You just got sculpted or something."

"Painted," George said.

"What do you know about painting?" Mark Barnes had drifted next to them.

"Hey, Mark," Oliver said. He introduced Jennifer.

"I've seen you somewhere," Jennifer said to Mark.

"Climbing out a bedroom window," George said.

"Was that it?" Jennifer smiled.

"Couldn't have been recently," Mark said.

Sandy staggered into the room, carrying a huge turkey in a roasting
pan. She lowered it to the table as the regulars cheered. Sandy had
worked in Deweys for years. She was popular--red-cheeked, oversized,
hard-drinking, and tolerant. Another woman brought paper plates,
plastic utensils, and a carving set. "Go for it," Sandy said.

"_Where's the broccoli? _" someone called. There was a chorus of boos.

Sandy and her helper made another trip to the kitchen, returning with
garlic bread and an oversized bowl of salad. The group took turns
hacking at the turkey. George and Mark argued about Giacometti.

George maintained that Giacometti was better than Picasso. Mark would
have none of it. "All that angst! He never met a color he didn't
like--cuz the color was always black. My God! I mean, for an Italian!"

"He was Swiss," Jennifer said.

"That explains it," Mark said.

"I love you," George said.

"I took Modern Art at Bowdoin," Jennifer said. "I did a paper on
Alberto Giacometti."

"My God," George said, "Bowdoin? They let you out of the
Impressionists?"

"Oh, yes," Jennifer said. "Giacometti was very good. Cute, too."

"I knew it," Mark said. "Cute."

"How about some turkey?" Oliver suggested.

Bringing the pies turned out to be a good idea; they disappeared
quickly. Sam presented Jennifer with a pint on the house. She was
treated like a queen by many of the regulars--misty-eyed about
motherhood as long as they didn't have to deal with it. Two hours
later, she began to yawn. Oliver collected the empty pie dishes, and
they drove home, fortified against the cold, pleased to have been
accepted as a couple for the first time.

"I like your friends," Jennifer said on the way home. She rubbed her
eyes. "It _was_ smoky in there."

"We should have left a little sooner, I guess," Oliver said. "How's
Junior?"

"No complaints."

"That was our coming-out party," Oliver said.

"Yep--we're an item now," Jennifer said, patt