corner of the bar. "Hey Buddy, how's your love
life?" Intuitive bastard.

"What love life?" Oliver said and listened to Mark crow about Duke.
Mark could probably explain this sexual strangeness, but it was none of
his business. After a Guinness, Oliver felt more like himself, but as
he walked through the Old Port he passed an office supply store, closed
for the weekend, and he remembered the ruler. Decorate? Could you even
buy a wooden ruler any more? It was disturbing. Too much. He put the
experience in the back of his mind and resumed working on the box and
the mailing list program.

On Wednesday, he entered the office store and asked if they sold wooden
rulers. An elderly lady with exaggerated make-up showed him a blue box
in a far corner of the store. "We sell mostly plastic ones," she said.
"But some prefer these. They last." He bought an eighteen inch ruler
with an inlaid brass edge. "For my mistress," he said, "yuk, yuk." The
woman gave him change without replying.

He sprayed the ruler with black paint he had in the cellar. "I wouldn't
call it decorated," he said to Verdi the next day. The dovetail
template caught his eye. He took it down to the cellar and found a can
of Rustoleum.Using the template as a stencil, he sprayed a pattern of
triangles along both sides of the ruler. The reddish brown color on the
black background gave it a Navajo look. _If you're going to do
something, do it well,_ he reminded himself, pleased. That was another
of Owl's sayings; one that Oliver had made his own. Poor Owl. He had
not done something well the night he disappeared from his boat. Did he
have time to regret that he never won the Bermuda race? Was it a relief
or just a stupid accident? Oliver imagined dark water closing over Owl.
He shivered and put it out of his mind.

On Friday, Oliver nearly backed out. But the ruler glowed on his
kitchen table like a promise. "I don't know," he said. He took a
shower, put on clean clothes, and parked tentatively in Jacky's
driveway. He rang and waited. When she opened the door, he held the
ruler up in both palms. She looked at it and asked him in. Her eyes
were bright.

"Wine, Oliver." She pointed to glasses on the kitchen table. He poured
Washington State Chardonnay for each of them and held up one glass in a
silent toast. "Salud," she said. She turned the ruler over in her hand
thoughtfully. "Did you say it was for your mistress?"

"Yes," Oliver said. "The saleslady didn't say a