ere more
often."

"Good place," Oliver said. Jennifer ordered a fruit bowl with granola
and yogurt. He asked for bacon and eggs, homefries with green peppers
and onions, and Texas toast. "Cruise all day on this," he said when the
waitress delivered. He took a bite of bacon. They couldn't put off the
conversation forever. "So--my baby, huh?"

Jennifer smiled. "Your baby. You're the man."

"I'll be damned." He found himself grinning.

"You don't look unhappy--to be a daddy." It was a question.

"Well, I'm not." He was getting used to the idea, feeling a bit proud.

"I like this fruit," she said.

"What do you think we should do?" As the words came out of his mouth,
Oliver knew that he had crossed a line. The line had been crossed
already--she was going to have his, their, baby--but he hadn't admitted
it. We.

She looked at him for a moment and dropped her eyes. She poked around
in her fruit with her spoon. "We could be happy," she said quietly.

"We'll need a crib or something," Oliver said.

A tear splashed on Jennifer's fruit bowl. "Yes. Yes, a crib. And a baby
blanket."

"A car seat," Oliver said solemnly. Jennifer wiped her face clean.

"A car seat." She giggled. "Apple pie. Do you like apple pie?"

"You're kidding," Oliver said. "Of course."

"I make good apple pie," she said.

"What about Rupert?"

"Rupert is history."

"But you're married."

"Not for long, Sweetums. He can't wait to get rid of me and have his
precious space back." Oliver thought of his apartment and felt a small
pang. "It's not even his house; his parents let him have it when they
moved to Hilton Head. Everything in it, practically, was theirs. I
couldn't get rid of any of it. God, I hated those chairs."

"My place is big enough," Oliver said.

"Your place is wonderful," she said. "For now, anyway. Is there a
washing machine?"

"Around the back--there's a utility room. Damn!"

"What's the matter?"

"Thanksgiving. I'm supposed to go to my sister's."

Jennifer lifted her spoon triumphantly. "No more Hilton Head! That's
where Rupert and I were going. Oh, how wonderful!" She lowered her
spoon. "The beach is nice, but Rupert's mother--what a trip."

"Wait 'til you meet my sister." Jennifer's face fell. "Just kidding,"
Oliver said. "To hell with it. Why don't we have our own Thanksgiving?"

"Would they be upset?"

"Not really. I can go another time--maybe over the holidays. We don't
get along all that well, but I lik