ving trouble. God, that smells good!" Oliver handed
her a cup. "Mmm--nice and hot."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said.

"I don't want to bother you about it . . ."

"It's no bother."

"Conor didn't get home until very late. I had trouble waking him up to
watch the girls. I probably shouldn't have come."

"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."

"Tough life," Oliver said.

"He's not a happy man," she said, "at least, never for long. He uses
that, too--the wounded Conor. Well, somebody tried to save him last
night."

"Pretty hard on you," Oliver said.

"I married him," she said. "I'd divorce him tomorrow, but it isn't just
me I have to think about."

"Damn," Oliver said. "I'd marry you the day after."

"Thank you. Would you promise to make me a cup of coffee like this
first thing in the morning--for the rest of my life?"

"Or my life," Oliver said.

"Oh!" There was a tear in Francesca's eye. He thought she was going to
hug him, but she turned and looked toward the water. "I've got to
finish one thing before I start another," she said. "I don't think
there's much point to it, but I've got to try. I'm going to go with him
on this trip."

"I'll see you in the spring, then--I hope," Oliver said. "I opened that
account, by the way. I don't have the number yet, but you don't need
it. If you get stuck for money, call Myron Marsh at Marsh and Cooley
and tell him who you are. It would probably take a couple of days,
though."

"Myron Marsh . . ."

"He has an office on Monument Square."

"O.K. Let's go," she said.

They walked back side by side. "I l