O+F Part 36

"Worth it," Oliver said. "The driveway is pretty rough, but that's no big deal." He looked around. "I like it. What do you think, Princess?"

Emma googled. "That does it," Oliver said.

"I knew you'd like it," Jennifer said.

"Let's go down to Gillespie's and buy a pie, sit outside, and finish this ale." They drove slowly away from the house and out to Route 9.

Jennifer had good bank connections; she was sure she could get a mortgage for most of the money. Oliver said he had fifteen thousand toward a down payment. Jennifer had another ten thousand.

"Daddy will give us another fifteen. That would leave seventy-five. I know I can get seventy-five out of the bank. We make enough to take care of the rest, fix it up, get furniture and all."

"Maybe we could go easy on the furniture," Oliver said.

"Don't worry, I won't go crazy. We'll have a housewarming!"

"You're right about the place--plenty of room, but not too big. It would be good to get my tools laid out."

Five weeks later, they slid a check across a gla.s.s-topped table. A tired balding man with a red face tossed Oliver a set of keys.

"Kentucky, here I come," he said.

"We want to wish you the very best of luck," Jennifer said.

"_Weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all_--that's how the song goes. But, thank you." He stood, pulled a baseball cap down on his forehead, and touched the brim in salute. "I'll be getting along." He walked out.

"B.B. King," Oliver said. "Didn't he sing that?"

"Never mind, Oliver; we're bringing the good luck with us."

"Congratulations," Martha said.

"Oh, thank you!" Jennifer jumped up and hugged her. "Come on, Oliver.

We've got to move."

A week later, Oliver was sleeping in a new bed, high off the floor. The physical move doesn't take long, he thought; getting used to it takes a while. He missed knowing that Arlen and Porter were downstairs. Porter had made an extravagant cake for Jennifer the week after she had Emma.

Driving home from Deweys to North Yarmouth wasn't as easy as walking up the hill to State Street. No five minute walk to Becky's for breakfast, either. On the other hand, he had a good work s.p.a.ce in the barn, and it was quiet at night.

Oliver counted his blessings. Verdi had made his first patrols and was adjusting. The leaves were changing color fast. It was beautiful, really. Jennifer loved the new house. Emma had a room with a baby bed and a playpen right next to their bedroom. There were plenty of projects; that was fun. Old storm windows were leaning against the wall in one corner of the barn. He had to clean them and figure out where they went. There was a wooden ladder missing a couple of rungs.

Oliver swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'm going to go buy a decent ladder. I want to put those storm windows in."

Jennifer yawned. "Come back soon."

"I won't be long."

A few minutes later, he was bouncing down the road. There had been a light frost overnight; the air was snappy; it was a good day to get things done. He needed to write to Francesca. Her letter was in the bottom of the toolbox in the back of the Jeep. He knew it by heart. She was renting a house in a section of Seattle called Ballard. Maria was in school. Elena was in pre-school. Francesca was working in a family clinic, lonely, but glad to be starting a life on her terms. It was signed, "Love, F."

He drove to the Yarmouth post office and waited five minutes for it to open. He was going to send her a postcard, but he changed his mind and bought a stamped envelope. He went over to the Calendar Island Motel and wrote her a letter as he ate bacon and eggs and homefries. He described the new house and reported that Emma was crawling and would be walking soon. Work was O.K.; there were nice people at the hospital.

He was thinking mainly of Dan and Suzanne, but he didn't go into it. He signed his own love and then added, "I miss you. I wish I could be two places at once." He tore the page out of his notebook and folded it into the envelope. c.r.a.p. He really was two places at once, but he didn't want to think about it. Better to get to work.

The morning was warming when he untied the new ladder and carried it from the roof rack. He laid it on the gra.s.s and a.s.sembled it, tying off the lifting rope. Jennifer put her head out the front door. "Where've you been?"

"Hi, pretty good, huh?" He pointed to the s.h.i.+ny aluminum ladder. "I stopped for breakfast." He pointed to Verdi who was motionless beneath a rose bush by the corner of the house. "I see you. Where's Princess?"

"In her room. Why don't we bring the playpen out here? Will you watch her? I want to go to Gillespie's."

"Sure." They took the playpen apart and put it back together on the lawn. Emma sat in the sun surrounded by rattles, b.a.l.l.s, and small stuffed bears. Jennifer left and Oliver set up a window-was.h.i.+ng station in front of the house. Should I wash them all first, or one at a time as I put them in? he asked himself. One at a time. He cleaned the first and noticed a small lead disk numbered, 7, nailed to the outside face of the bottom of the sash.

"Aha," he said. "But where is window seven, Emma? Where is window seven?" He walked along the front of the house, checking each window for some kind of number. On the end of the windowsill of the fourth window, he found a disk numbered, 3. That makes a lot of sense, he thought. He continued around the end of the house. There was a two on the next window. It _did_ make sense; the starting point was different, that was all. There were two windows at that end of the first floor.

The numbering started at the far corner, came around the end, and continued across the front of the house. The windows that looked into the ell at the other end were not fitted for storms, so number seven was the first one on the back side.

"Looking good," he said to Emma. He took the clean window around to the back of the house and put it in place. The sash fit flush with the outer casing. Metal clips held the window in place. He swiveled them over the sash and tightened them down with a screwdriver. "O.K.

Thirteen to go."

He was down to nine when Jennifer returned with a carload of groceries.

"I got some cider from Gillespie's. How's Emma?"

"Having a good time," Oliver said. "A couple of bees checked her out.

No harm done. I think she likes it outside."

"That's my precious," Jennifer said, lifting her out of the playpen.

"Oh, you need changing, oh my precious!" She looked at Oliver accusingly.

"Whoops," he said. He unloaded the car while she changed Emma. "Great stuff, this cider," he said, knocking down a gla.s.s.

The afternoons were short in October, but Oliver had the windows in place by four o'clock. Jennifer had cooked a ham and baked two pies.

The house smelled good. Emma was asleep. Oliver opened a bottle of Rioja, and they ate, listening to _Prairie Home Companion_ on the public radio station. He would rather have talked about something--Garrison Keillor was too smug for Oliver's taste--but Jennifer loved him. He was funny, sometimes, Oliver admitted. And the music was good.

Later, in bed, Jennifer sighed contentedly. "I love it here," she said.

Oliver snuggled closer. "I've been thinking about two weeks from today," she went on.

"Two weeks?" he mumbled.

"For the housewarming."

"Housewarming." He put a hand on her breast.

"Mmmm," she said. "I want to invite _everybody! _"

"O.K." Oliver moved one leg farther up on hers. He put his mouth against her neck. "Everybody," he murmured. A small s.h.i.+ver went through her. She was wifely now in bed, accommodating, easily satisfied. Oliver did his part; she did hers. They fell asleep peacefully and properly.

Oliver did not hear her get up to attend to Emma.

In the morning they decided that "everybody" meant everybody but their parents. The holidays were coming; they would see them soon. Besides, the party might be loud and last into the night, not a parents' kind of party. "The telephone man is coming tomorrow," Jennifer said. "I'll call my friends; you call yours."

"O.K.," Oliver said. "I might stop in at Deweys."

At the hospital the following day, he invited Dan to the housewarming.

Dan had twin girls in junior high and a devout wife. Oliver didn't expect him to accept, but he liked Dan and wanted to ask.

"Sat.u.r.day after next? Can't make it," Dan said. "I'm going to see my brother."

"Oh. Where does he live?"