Maybe she had a new
lover. That was a cheerful thought. He was in a good mood when Jennifer
called him in for dinner.
In the following days, Oliver stayed away from Suzanne as much as
possible. The few times that they were by themselves were
uncomfortable, but at least they could show the hurt they felt, even if
they didn't talk about it. Passing in the hallway was harder. Others
would notice if they tried to ignore each other; they were forced to be
friendly in a phony way, as though they didn't feel the force drawing
them together. Suzanne began to look strained. Oliver kept his head
down and worked hard.
The day of the party was gray and drizzly, warm for late fall. Oliver
stood in the open door of the barn, holding a paper cup of ale and
welcoming guests. By mid-afternoon, cars were parked around the first
bend of the driveway. Thirty or forty people were milling about in the
house giving Jennifer advice and admiring Emma. Jennifer was flushed
and pleased. She kept the conversations lively while she brought
appetizers in and out of the kitchen. Porter had come through with a
quantity of scones, apricot--walnut and cranberry--orange. Oliver took
special pleasure in pouring a Glenlivet for Arlen.
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