"It's a strange time to feel lucky," she said, "but I do." She looked at his wedding ring. "I'm a bad woman now, too—along with everything else."
"Bad to the bone," Oliver said. He reached down for her coffee and handed it to her. "Some bones," he said. He sat on the log and shook his head. "Damn . . ." They were quiet for a minute. "When are you leaving?"
"In three or four weeks. I'm going to drive out, bring as much as I can with me. I've got to get a better car—something that will pull a small U-Haul trailer and hold up."
"The money is there if you need it," Oliver said. "Jennifer wants to buy a house in Cumberland or North Yarmouth. I'm going to use some for a down payment, but there will be plenty left—ten, twenty, thirty thousand—just call Myron and he'll send you a check."
"I have enough to go on. And Conor will pay child support. I can work, you know. Did I tell you I was a registered nurse?"
"No."
"Yeah, I went through a program after I got out of college. I only worked for a year before I met Conor. I'm glad I did, now . . . It's nice to know about the money. I don't know what's going to happen, really. I just know I've got to move." She paused.
"I wish I were moving with you."
"Never leave someone for someone else," Francesca said. "You've got to live through these things."
"That's what Mark says—my friend, Mark. Anyway, take the money if you need it; I know you won't waste it. I wish I could help with the moving, but I don't think I'd better."