They could use his workbench to hold
the additional kitchen stuff. Jennifer had a whole set of dishes she
had bought, refusing to use the ones that had belonged to Rupert's
parents.
Gifford Sims called and asked if Oliver could start the following
Monday. Oliver told Gifford that he'd be there bright and early.
Jennifer bought a bushel of apples and another baking dish. By noon on
Thanksgiving Day, most of the shelves were built and filled. The bed
was remade with tan sheets that were bordered with blooming roses.
Verdi was calming down, and the rain had stopped. The apartment smelled
of pie. Boxes of books were stacked high in one corner of the living
room. Not much space left, Oliver thought, but much more homey.
"So--Deweys later?" he asked.
"The pies are ready," Jennifer said. "I hope it won't be too smoky."
"We don't have to stay long," Oliver said.
Jennifer stood. "Nap time," she said. Oliver watched her hips swing
easily around the corner of the steps. He thought of laying out the
remaining shelves, yawned, and followed her upstairs.
14.
It was cold and crisp, nearly dark. A neon Guinness sign glowed through
a window by the door to Deweys.
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