"Can't have you getting a chill," he said.
"Oh, thank you. I just can't help it--how I feel," she said.
"Of course you can't." Oliver rolled the skin into a coil and put a
thick rubber band around it. He hefted it in his palm. "I'll take it
down to the basement. He sealed it in a Ziploc bag and stored it in a
toolbox.
The next day, Jennifer left at noon to see her parents. Oliver had a
pint at Deweys with Richard and went to bed early. He lay there, not
used to sleeping alone, and thought about the relationship. It was like
living with Charlotte again, but Jennifer was more fun. She was a
natural mother--not at all bothered by pregnancy. All in all, the
relationship was pretty good, but he avoided comparing Jennifer to
Francesca.
In the morning he got up and took coffee to Crescent Beach as though
his life hadn't changed during the last two weeks. There was an inch of
snow--not enough to keep Francesca away. As he approached the beach he
saw a shiny patch on the driftwood log. A Ziploc bag was taped to the
log where they usually sat. The bag looked as if it had been there
several days.
He bent over and saw a heart drawn on the paper inside.
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