, including himself. He felt the rings of
calm again, rippling outward from their table.

"Something to drink?" One of the regular waitresses laid down menus.

"Coffee for me," Oliver said.

"Tea. Juice for the girls--orange."

"I want apple," Elena said.

"Please," Francesca said.

"Please."

"One apple, one orange." The waitress swept away.

They talked about how the summer was nearly over. They talked about
learning how to swim and how hard it was to eat a lobster. Oliver
didn't ask about her husband. She didn't ask about his work. They
stayed with what mattered: themselves, lunch, the girls, the moment.
When they said goodbye, there was a lovely quiet between them. They
were together in the act of parting.

Oliver was giddy walking home. He looked at the walnut box and the
bronze heart. "She's the one," he said to Verdi who was staring at him
from the window sill.

6.

If Francesca weren't married, Oliver would have been after her in an
instant. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think of a way to give
her the box and the valentine without putting her in an awkward
position. He placed them on the mantelpiece in the living room. The
walnut and the bronze gave him a warm feeling; they signalled a future
or at least a connection with her.

He might have hustled a programming project, but the thought of
business meetings sent him across the bridge to Crescent Beach. The air
was fresh and salty, softened by the waxy smell of beach roses.
Children played. Dogs chased Frisbees. Waves curled and crashed along
the sand. In September, in Maine, time has a way of crystallizing and
standing still. Oliver soaked up the sunny shortening days. He was
rested and tan, increasingly coiled for some kind of action.

He received a postcard from Jacky saying that she was living in a motel
but was about to move into a house. Her job was a lot of work but going
well. She missed him. He sent a housewarming card to the new address
and said that he missed her, too. No harm in that. Besides, it was true.

One afternoon in October, when the leaves were beginning to change
color, he came home and heard Jacky's voice on the answering machine.
"Oliver, are you there? No? I'm in town. I'm staying at the Regency.
I'm wondering if you would join me for dinner. I've got a meeting in
ten minutes. Just come to the restaurant in the hotel, if you can, at
six." There was a short pause. "I'll understand if you can't make it. I