Free Teardrop Lane by Emily March Page B

Such sacrifices a man made for his art.

SIX

    This year the annual Eternity Springs Ice Fishing Derby at Hummingbird Lake boasted a record number of entries. Held on the last weekend in February, the festival went on in sunshine, rain, snow; and once even in a blizzard. Luckily, this year the weather cooperated, and as Rose parked her car in the lakeside campground lot on Sunday afternoon, bright sunshine beaming in a cloudless sky teamed with a nonexistent breeze to make the temperature hovering in the twenties seem almost balmy.
    The mouth-watering aromas of grilling brats and roasting nuts drifted from the concession stands erected around the campgrounds, and she stopped and bought a paper cone full of nuts before making her way out onto the ice in search of Shannon. Her friend wasn’t difficult to find since she’d planted a Murphy’s Pub pole banner beside her fishing hole.
    Rose couldn’t help but smile. Raised a city girl, Shannon had jumped into the outdoors life with both feet. Rose enjoyed most of what life in a mountain town had to offer, except she honestly didn’t see the appeal of ice fishing. Fly fishing bubbling rivers and frothing streams in summertime, yes. That was an art and a joy. Sinking a line through a hole in the ice? She didn’t get it.
    And yet, now that she’d visited the Derby—a first for her—she had to admit that she found the atmosphere appealing. It was like a party on ice. She popped a warm cashew into her mouth and greeted Shannon.
    “You look like you’re having fun.”
    “I am. It’s a gorgeous day and I’ve caught two fish.”
    “You go, girl,” Rose said with a smile.
    “Whoa! Not two. Three. Got another one!” Shannon pulled a rainbow trout from the water and chortled with glee.
    Rose wrinkled her nose when her friend grasped the wiggling rainbow and began to extract the hook from its mouth. “Yuck. That is why I don’t fish unless I’m with someone who will do that nasty task for me.”
    Shannon glanced up at her in surprise. “You don’t like to remove fish hooks?”
    “Or touch fish. Fish skin and scales creep me out.”
    “What? That’s crazy. You’re a doctor. You touch things that are a million times worse than fish skin. I imagine since you moved to Eternity Springs, you’ve removed a fish hook from a human being a time or two.”
    “More times than I can count. But I’m always gloved and there are no scales involved.”
    “That’s just weird.” Shannon efficiently freed the hook, then dropped the trout into the cooler at her side. “So I guess it’s safe to assume you’re not ready to chop a hole in the ice and join me?”
    “The fish are safe from me.” She pulled a thermos from a tote bag and handed it to Shannon. “I brought us hot chocolate.”
    “God bless you. I have a camp stool in that green bag at your feet. Get it and sit down and let’s dish. I have information about your boyfriend.”
    Rose couldn’t help but be intrigued. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
    Shannon released a puff of air that fogged on thechilly air. “Ha,” she said in disbelief. “Then why do the two of you have dinner together at Murphy’s every night?”
    “It’s not every night.”
    “Almost. Word is getting around town that the two of you are an item.”
    “We live in a small town. Word gets around when somebody buys extra toilet paper at the Trading Post.” Rose shrugged and pulled the camp stool from the bag Shannon had indicated. “I’ve been having dinner at your place regularly since I discovered the ambrosia that is your potato soup. As far as Cicero showing up, too, well, Murphy’s is a public place. I can’t stop him from choosing to eat his supper there.”
    “Don’t give me that. You both wait for the other to arrive before you place your meal orders. Seriously, Rose, the two of you are like teenagers.” Shannon laughed and added, “It’s been going on for almost two weeks. And given it’s my restaurant, I’ve had a front row