"Yes," Oliver said.
"She's had troubles in the past, but she's overcome them with hard work and the Lord's help," Gifford said. "She'll make someone a fine wife."
"He'll be a lucky guy," Oliver said.
Gifford agreed. "And how is your family?"
"Fine," Oliver said. "Fine. Emma will be walking any day."
Oliver began drinking wine every night at home, taking refuge in a jovial family life that was drifting toward the rocks. He looked stressed when he wasn't drinking. Jennifer worried about him and urged him to dump the hospital job.
"Well," Oliver said to her one evening, pouring a large glass of
Chianti Classico, "you're going to like this—they are dumping me."
Jennifer applauded. "I'll have a glass of that. What happened?"
"They were ordered to. The auditors did a solid job—took them weeks, remember?"
"I do," Jennifer said. "There, Precious."