hape of a heart. He cut four short pieces from a length of spaghetti
shaped wax and made a square letter O. It looked stupid. "Can you bend
this stuff?"

"Heat it," George said. "There's an alcohol lamp."

Oliver warmed another piece of spaghetti wax and made an oval O. He
stuck it on the heart and added a plus sign and the letter, F. "A
valentine," he said.

George made a tree of wax, two inches high with a double trunk. He
stuck The Flying Lady on one trunk and the heart, upright, on the
other. Using more wax, he planted the tree in a circular rubber base.
"Let me have that flask." He pointed at a steel cylinder about six
inches long. He slipped the cylinder over the waxes and tightly into
the rubber base. "There." He poured creamy investment into the flask
until the waxes were well covered and the flask was nearly full. "After
it sets, you peel off the base and fire the flask."

They sat in a far corner and had coffee.

"So who's F?" George's eyes gleamed.

"Francesca," Oliver said. "I don't know her, really. She's tall and
married."

George shook his head. "Can't live with 'em; can't live without 'em."
He took a large bite of bagel to ease the pain.

"You do all right," Oliver said.

"Oh, you know . . ." George threw one arm in the air. "The artist
thing. They're curious. They're all curious, Olive Oil."

"What happened to Marcia?"

"Oh, Marcia!" George rolled his eyes and deflated somewhat. "She had
allergies, it turned out. Dust. What can I say?"

"She was good looking," Oliver said.

"Oh, yeah, Marcia!" George's voice trailed away. "Look," he said, "it's
going to take a while to get the investment ready. Why don't you come
back around seven? Then we'll cast."

"Outa sight," Oliver said.

He drove to Shop 'N Save and stacked two dozen cans of salmon Friskies
in his shopping cart. He found a box of fancy tea biscuits that he
could offer to his mother. She and Paul were stopping in Portland the
next night. They always stayed at the Holiday Inn, but she would want
to come over and make sure that he wasn't living in filth, had clean
towels, and so on. She would sniff around for a female presence, and
then she would look at Paul; Paul would suggest that the sun was over
the yardarm; and they would go to DiMillo's for dinner.

Oliver turned his shopping cart around the end of an aisle, swerved,
and stopped to avoid bumping into Francesca's friend. She was studying
the pasta sauces, one hand resti