Arlen exuded
calm; the two women might have been cows rubbing shoulders. "Come and
see Emma." Jennifer led Jacky into the house.
Arlen and Oliver resumed their positions in the doorway. "I don't want
to intrude, Oliver, but wasn't she the one . . ."
"Yup," Oliver interrupted. "She was."
"Interesting," Arlen said. "Very attractive."
"What do you think makes someone attractive?" Oliver asked.
"Hmmm. Physical health. Energy. Integrity is most important, I think."
"Integrity," Oliver imagined Jacky and then Suzanne.
"Of course, it's different for everybody. We all have our weaknesses.
Little things. Porter's forearms, for instance--the way they swell up
from his wrist. As soon as I saw them, I thought, oh, oh . . ."
"Lucky Porter," Oliver said.
"Olive Oil!" George bounced in from the ell. "Hi, Arlen, how're you
doing?"
"Just fine, George."
"Bazumas, Olive Oil! My God! I thought I'd never see her again. I asked
if I could paint her. She said yes but I'd have to drive to Maryland."
George hung his head. "It's a curse--art."
"Maryland's just down the way," Arlen said.
"Arlen, my car!" George threw one arm in the air. "I'm lucky it starts.
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