_Maryland?_"
"Life is hard," Oliver said.
"Food," Arlen said, heading for the kitchen.
"Yes," George said, following him. Oliver looked down the driveway and
focused on a man walking slowly toward the house. The man smiled when
he was closer.
"You must be Oliver. Ah, yes."
"I am. I remember you from somewhere."
"Ba, ba, boom," the man said and twirled around.
"Bogdolf!"
"Eric Hallston, actually. I'm an old friend of Jennifer's."
"You look so much younger," Oliver said.
"The miracle of make-up. When I do a Bogdolf, I use a lot of gray.
People like an older Bogdolf."
"I'll be damned," Oliver said. "Well, come on in. What are you
drinking? Mead?"
"Mead? Very funny. Horrible stuff. Scotch would be nice, but that ale I
see would be fine."
"Glenlivet, right there." Oliver pointed to the table that was inside
the barn. "Help yourself. Jennifer's in the house." Bogdolf Eric poured
himself a stiff one.
"I have a surprise in here," he said, waving a manila envelope. "You
don't have to like it. You don't have to accept. I'm sure Jennifer
will, but you are Lord of your Keep."
"Bogdolf, what are you talking about?"
"Eric, please.
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