" A harder shower passed over them.
"I love the rain," Francesca said.
"Me, too." They sat and finished their coffee, watching the rain and
absorbing their conversation.
"Bye, Oliver," Francesca said finally, standing with the umbrella.
"You're going to get wet."
"I won't melt." She smiled quickly, understanding it as he meant, that
he would be there for her dependably. She walked back the way she had
come. Oliver stayed, enjoying the calm. Francesca had that effect on
him. When he was with her, he felt that there was nowhere he needed to
go. He was already there, at the center. The world spread around them
at greater and greater distances.
Jacky! He felt a stir of affection and shook his head. He should have
known she would tell Francesca--the big picture, anyway, if not the
details. He hoped Jacky would find someone soon. She wasn't bashful.
There was bound to be somebody in Maryland who would love to oblige
her. Whoever he was, he was going to get a workout--and good crab
cakes. Jacky had been straight with him. Oliver appreciated that. And
he'd been straight with her. Maybe that was why he had a warm feeling
when he thought of her; there was no residue of guilt or things held
back.
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