"It has its moments," she said, flicking ash from the end of her
cigarette.
"What's your name?"
"Marguerite."
"I'm Oliver."
"I know."
"You do? How?"
"Everyone does. You're the short one who married Jennifer and saved her
from Rupert. Cute kid, by the way."
"Aha," Oliver said. That explained the identical looks of comprehension
he received when Jennifer introduced him to her women friends. He _is_
short, they were thinking. "Emma. Yes," he said to Marguerite. "Thanks.
What's it like--being the other woman?"
"Well, you do the heavy support work, and she gets the house."
"Damn," Oliver said. Marguerite finished her cigarette.
"Do you smoke, Oliver?"
"I try to stick to drinking," he said, finishing his whiskey.
"Guess we better go inside and reload," she said. She turned her back
to him and bent over. "Wind me up, would you?" Oliver laughed and put
his fist on her back. He rubbed five vigorous circles.
"There you go," he said. "My turn." Marguerite cranked him up, and they
went laughing back inside the house.
Oliver was getting a pretty good buzz. Lots of water, he instructed
himself as he poured another drink. Jennifer was sitting in an armchair
with Emma in her lap.
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