efinitely we must celebrate. Whoops, there's the phone." He
waved goodbye and let himself into his apartment. Oliver felt something
at his feet.

"Verdi! Were you out? Well, well, time to eat isn't it?" He closed the
front door behind him, and Verdi ran up the stairs. Oliver followed,
seeing a can of coconut milk and a smaller can of Thai curry paste.
Basil, a bit of chicken, green beans, rice . . . He was almost out of
shoyu, but that wouldn't matter with a curry. Tomorrow he would get
shoyu. And more veggies. Jennifer was strong on veggies.

15.

Oliver concentrated on programming. He found and successfully changed
the late messages. Dan gave him a list of projects which he put aside
until he could finish documenting the system. "You have to understand
the data before you can work with it," he explained to Jennifer. "The
data is everything. Most people don't know how to lay out a database;
they make a mess that just keeps getting worse."

"You did a nice job at The Conservancy," she said.

"At some point, you have to start fresh," Oliver said. "The hospital
can get by for awhile--if they don't try to change too much. I don't
think they will. I don't think they want to spend the money. I mean, it
works--the present system. I'll know what I'm doing in a couple of
weeks."

"They're lucky to have you," Jennifer said.

"They're good to work with. You'd think that they would be a little
screwy--First Fundamentalists and all that, but they aren't. They're
cheerful, mostly. Practical. The women can't wear jewelry."

"Keeps them in their place," Jennifer said.

"Wedding rings are about it," Oliver said.

Jennifer cleared her throat loudly.

"Oh, yeah . . ." Oliver said. "We should do something about that--once
you get your divorce."

"Was that a proposal?" She smiled appealingly.

"Sure--you don't mean church and all that?"

"No, Silly."

Oliver was relieved. "City Hall," Jennifer said. "We'll have a nice
dinner afterwards. Do something for us."

"F. Parker Reidy's," Oliver said. "Eat teriyaki and watch shoppers on
the snowy street."

"Wherever you like, Dear. Speaking of snow, we're lucking out--I
shouldn't have any problem getting to Wayland."

"How far is Wayland from Boston?"

"Depends on what time it is--half an hour, usually. I take 495 right
around the city, no problem. Umm . . . Sweetums?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you would do something for me. I know I'm being
awful, but