I
had ten thousand in a money market fund, so we didn't have to sell any
shares to meet her request."
"Good," Oliver said.
"An attractive woman, Francesca," Myron said.
"You've got that right," Oliver looked at Myron. "Do you know her?"
"I do. I grew up in Brunswick. I was three years ahead of her in high
school."
"I'll be damned. How is she doing? Did she say?"
"We didn't really get into it. She sounded fine. I sent the checks to
an address in Seattle."
"Well done. Thanks, Myron."
"Marriages . . ." Myron said, raising his eyebrows. "Some work out and
some don't."
"Yeah," Oliver said. He looked at Myron's wedding ring. "I hope yours
does."
"So far, so good," Myron said.
"Nice going with the account. If she needs any more, you know what to
do."
"I'll keep some powder dry," Myron said. "See you."
Oliver stepped outside. Greenery had been wound around the lamp posts.
Holiday lights were strung overhead. The sidewalks were filled with
shoppers crowded between store windows and low snowbanks piled along
the curb. Someone had brushed the snow from the bronze lobsterman
kneeling on his pedestal outside the bank buildings.
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