What's
your mother's maiden name?"
Francesca stared at him. "Boisverte," she said.
"How do you spell it?" She told him and he repeated the letters to make
sure that he had them right. "French," he said.
"Mais oui. Maman married Frankie, and here I am."
"They did nice work. You want more coffee?" He refilled their mugs and
put away the thermos. "Francesca . . ."
"Yes?"
"You're probably going to think I'm nuts. I hope you won't be mad at
me." He took a deep breath. "I'm putting the money my father gave me in
a brokerage account. I want you to be joint owner, so that if anything
happens to me you'll have the money. Or, if you need some for an
emergency--it will be there." Francesca took a swallow of coffee and
stared out to sea.
"You're a good one," she said. And then, "I'm married to Conor."
"You wouldn't have to pay any taxes on it. I do that. You wouldn't get
statements or anything. It would just be there if you need it. It could
be backup for you and the girls, security . . ."
"Independence?" she teased.
"Well--yes, if you want it." The fat was in the fire.
"Jacky said you were a sweetheart."
Oliver's jaw dropped.
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