"What are you going
to do?"
"Tonight?"
"Well, for starters . . ."
"I don't know. I just wanted to see you, to tell you. You weren't here
when I got home. I couldn't find a parking place anywhere close." Her
voice trailed off. "I've got a credit card; I can stay at the Holiday
Inn."
"No way," Oliver said. "You might as well stay here. Your clothes are
all wet." A relieved smile brightened her face.
"Thank you, Oliver."
"Music," he said. He was hearing hearing strains from _La Traviata_ in
his mind. He wanted to play the opera, but he was afraid Jennifer would
find it too heavy. He played a tape of Native American flute melodies
echoing down a canyon. Soothing stuff.
"Oh, I love this music," she said.
"Carlos Nakai," Oliver said. "Are you hungry?" He was newly concerned.
There were two of her. Check that--one of her and one of them, a new
one. Jennifer looked pleased.
"I've been so upset, it's hard to tell. I think so, actually."
"I have some red beans and rice mix--no canyon greens, though." She
looked puzzled. He explained, "I was thinking of the music--what would
go with the rice and beans and the music--veggies from a canyon.
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