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"You worked so hard on the stove. You're tired. Poor Sweetums." "Mmmm," he said, nuzzling and hiding his face on her shoulder. "Sweetums sleep now." The storm dumped eight inches overnight, the first real snow of the winter. It was blustery and clearing when Oliver went outside in the morning. The Volvo was in the barn. Jennifer was staying home until the road was plowed.
Jennifer spotted him as soon as he drove in. "Morning! I love your jacket." She reached out and felt it between her thumb and first two fingers. That Mark. "Morning, Jennifer. Yeah, it's nice. Linen," he said, but he was damned if he was going to mail it to her. "I brought your drum; it's in the car. I'll get it." She skipped over to a white Volvo and took a drum from the back seat.
See you in a couple of hours." "Down," Emma said. "Down." "O.K.," Oliver said. "Down, it is." He put her on her hands and knees in the center of the living room rug. He heard the Volvo start and race down the driveway. Too fast, he thought hard on the front end. Emma made a laughing sound as she crawled around in a small circle, the way Verdi used to chase his tail.
It's almost a definition." "Easy to see. Hard to make," George said. Two pints later, Oliver slapped George on the back and walked to the parking garage. It occurred to him, as he drove home, that he had forgotten Pilgrim Atlantic for a whole hour. In the morning, Jennifer was up early. Oliver carried Emma out to the Volvo and secured her in the car seat. "Be careful," he said to Jennifer.
It was dark and much colder as they settled into the Volvo and drove home. "What a great party," Jennifer said. "You know, I was talking to Mary. If you're tired of bouncing around, I think you could get a good position at Tom's bank. She said he was looking for someone to come in and learn the ropes, take over as MIS officer." "Do I look like the officer type?" "If you don't, no one does.
Arlen was collecting his mail when Oliver arrived home. "Hey, Arlen, how are you?" "Just fine, Oliver." "Developments, Arlen!" "I noticed with a Volvo." "Jennifer. We must get together soon. She's great. She's going to have a baby. We're going to have a baby." "Congratulations! I'm happy for you, Oliver. Developments downstairs, as well." "I wondered," Oliver said. "Porter," Arlen said simply.
Let's get on with it." Charlie led the way to his car, an elderly red Volvo. "Rocinante," Margery remembered. "As good as ever." Charlie lowered the bag into the back seat. "Could we swing by the library? I need to return these books." "Sure. What have you been reading?" "Tolstoy. The Russians. Dostoyevsky, Chekhov." "That'll get you through a long night."
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