It was better, he decided, to stay away from Maine for a while. Let things settle down. He could help support Emma. He could see her when she was a little older—be at least a small part in her life. Jennifer would be up for that. He didn't have to work in a bank, for God's sake. He could find a part-time job or a project with some smaller group. Maybe he could set up a wood shop and make a few things. Thanks to Myron's investing, he still had most of his original stake. It was there for Emma and for Francesca, if she should need it.
Oliver paged through his atlas. He liked New Mexico. Portland, Oregon was pleasant. Seattle seemed more interesting. Honolulu? Maybe even Japan . . . But, here he was in the Northwest. He wasn't ready to see his father or his uncle. He needed to get settled first. He needed to work, to make some money. Maybe even have some sort of relationship, although he was in no rush.Sex was great, but it wasn't going to rule him any more. Sex got the job done, got the babies made. Aside from that, it mirrored the relationship—whatever the relationship was. He didn't think there would be any big surprises there. He'd been around that barn.
"Where you headed?" the waitress asked.
"Seattle," Oliver said. At least he'd have one friend there. He smiled broadly, pleased with his decision, and left a large tip by his plate.
"What'cha doing up there?"
"Starting over."
"I done that once or twice." She swept up her tip. "You're young enough. Good luck to you."
"Thanks," Oliver said. "Thanks a lot."
He stopped on the outskirts of Seattle and called Francesca.
She answered, "Hello?"