Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

toward Timberline. “It’s like sex. Once you do it, you never forget how.”

Brows arched, Jacquie asked, “When was the last time you had sex?”

“About fifty years ago.”

“Holy shit.”

Jacquie hadn’t intended to let Spin drive her car, but Spin had been really under the weather lately, so she’d wanted to pick the old girl up and let her do something fun. They’d had to miss the big Fourth of July celebration. When Jacquie went to get her, Spin had been in bed, not feeling too well. They’d had to take her to the hospital for tests. Her age was definitely setting in and she’d been deteriorating. Although the physicians weren’t allowed to tell details, they alluded to the fact that Spin probably wouldn’t last until Christmas. That very thought caused a stab of fear in Jacquie.

What was she going to do without Spin?

The woman had snuck into her life and filled her world with a presence Jacquie never could have anticipated. Spin was full of B.S. and stories and humor. If it hadn’t been for her DUI, Jacquie would never have met Spin. In a roundabout way, she had Drew to thank for it. If he hadn’t stood her up on her birthday, she wouldn’t have gotten plastered.

Sometimes life worked out weird.

Spin inadvertently crossed the double yellow line, squinting through the car’s low windshield. She almost wiped out another car.

In the side mirror, Jacquie caught a glimpse of Raul Nunez’s Caddie swerving before gaining control.

“Spin, I think you should pull over so I can drive now.”

“I want to take you to me and Wally’s fishing spot. It’s not that much farther out of town. We’re almost there.”

While she didn’t want to deflate Spin’s balloon of rebellion, Jacquie couldn’t help saying, “You probably don’t remember the turnoff.”

“I most certainly do. It’s mile marker 4, right by that old yellow pine that has the funny branches.”

Jacquie couldn’t recall any funny pine trees.

Since Spin was determined, all Jacquie could say was, “Just go slow.” Then she got out her cigarettes, lit one and put a slight crack in the window to vent the smoke.

Thank God they’d reached the highway and there wasn’t any real traffic. Every once in a while, a camper or RV passed, or a minivan. Local campers. The area surrounding the Red Duck city limits was filled with vacationers.

The town’s population had swelled in recent months, and that was good for Jacquie’s business. People who had money got the bug to buy a vacation home, or even relocate. The odd thing was, lately Jacquie just hadn’t had a good game. She usually thrived in July and August, was like a bitch in heat going after clients and closing deal after deal.

Lately, she’d been finding excuses to leave the office more and go spend the day with Spin.

Spin slowed the car, easing off the accelerator. “There it is! I told you.”

Funny…Jacquie had never noticed the broad tree with odd-shaped upper branches, as if it had been struck by lightning. “Well, where’s the road?”

“Right here.” A small cutoff was tucked into the sage, and a dirt road loomed ahead.

“Hell. We can’t take my car on that rutted road. We’ll bottom out.” Jacquie pulled in a deep drag, chewing on her fingernail.

“No, we won’t.” With amazing dexterity, Spin navigated the tires carefully over the compacted earth, its talc raising in a rooster tail behind the Jaguar and coating its glossy paint. Jacquie would have to take it to the car wash when they got back to town.

Not too far in, Spin turned right to a spot that was hidden by a growth of sumac. Jacquie wasn’t real up-to-date on the local flora, but she did recognize poison oak and a few of the basic Idaho plants. She’d never have guessed this place was here.

Jacquie was a hotel woman. Give her a turn-down service on a set of high-thread-count sheets, and a chocolate on her pillow. She didn’t do the camping thing. No shower, no way. Bugs, no thanks. Fishing, never tried it. Even growing up in Cheyenne, there’d been a slice of civilization that she’d found quite comfy.

Spin cut the large engine, but forgot to put the gear column in Park. The car died in Drive. Jacquie reached over and fixed it while Spin got out of the car, oblivious to her mistake. It was like she had to be here, had to see the old fishing grounds.

Getting out of the Jag herself, Jacquie was glad she’d slipped into a pair of flats today. Normally she wore heels to give shape to her long legs. Today she’d worn low mules and white capris with a black top.

“Be sure to remember where the turnoff is, Jacquie. I want you to be able to show Morris where this is.”

“Yeah, sure, Spin. I’ll show Morris.” Jacquie merely placated Spin.

“Did I tell you Morris is a lawyer?”

“You mentioned it.”

“And that he’s my great-nephew?”

“You mentioned that, too.”

“He’s a fine man.”

Anyone named Morris would have to be a fine man because he sure wouldn’t be might-tee-fine in the looks department.

Walking toward the edge of a mossy creek, Spin glanced at Jacquie and pursed her lips. “Put that damn cigarette out. You’ll torch the whole place to smithereens and then the memory will be gone.”

She crushed the cigarette’s cherry against a rock, made sure it was completely out, then joined Spin, taking her by the elbow. “I don’t think you should be walking all the way down there. It looks too steep for you, Spin.”

“If you keep hold of me, we can make it.”

Jacquie didn’t want to, but Spin gave her a pleading look. The woman had nostalgia written in her eyes. Evidently this was a special place for her, and she might not ever get the chance to come back. “Okay, Spin. Hold tight.”

The embankment wasn’t as steep as Jacquie had thought, but little pebbles slipped into her shoes, making it uncomfortable. Once at the bottom, she situated Spin on a bleached boulder that was warm from the sun. Feeling