"Yes?"
"You're probably going to think I'm nuts. I hope you won't be mad at me." He took a deep breath. "I'm putting the money my father gave me in a brokerage account. I want you to be joint owner, so that if anything happens to me you'll have the money. Or, if you need some for an emergency—it will be there." Francesca took a swallow of coffee and stared out to sea.
"You're a good one," she said. And then, "I'm married to Conor."
"You wouldn't have to pay any taxes on it. I do that. You wouldn't get statements or anything. It would just be there if you need it. It could be backup for you and the girls, security . . ."
"Independence?" she teased.
"Well—yes, if you want it." The fat was in the fire.
"Jacky said you were a sweetheart."
Oliver's jaw dropped. Francesca laughed. "She said that she checked you out. She had hopes for you, but she said that the two of you were incompatible for the long run."
"Uh—she's right."
"Don't be embarrassed," Francesca said. "How else were you going to find out? Look, I love Jacky, but I wouldn't want to be married to her."