Sandy had
worked in Deweys for years. She was popular--red-cheeked, oversized,
hard-drinking, and tolerant. Another woman brought paper plates,
plastic utensils, and a carving set. "Go for it," Sandy said.
"_Where's the broccoli? _" someone called. There was a chorus of boos.
Sandy and her helper made another trip to the kitchen, returning with
garlic bread and an oversized bowl of salad. The group took turns
hacking at the turkey. George and Mark argued about Giacometti.
George maintained that Giacometti was better than Picasso. Mark would
have none of it. "All that angst! He never met a color he didn't
like--cuz the color was always black. My God! I mean, for an Italian!"
"He was Swiss," Jennifer said.
"That explains it," Mark said.
"I love you," George said.
"I took Modern Art at Bowdoin," Jennifer said. "I did a paper on
Alberto Giacometti."
"My God," George said, "Bowdoin? They let you out of the
Impressionists?"
"Oh, yes," Jennifer said. "Giacometti was very good. Cute, too."
"I knew it," Mark said. "Cute."
"How about some turkey?" Oliver suggested.
Bringing the pies turned out to be a good idea; they disappeared
quickly.
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