The Bookwoman's Last Fling (36 page)

“Oh God,” she said.

“Play it as it goes, Sharon. Be loose and see what happens. Since you asked.”

I asked how Billy was doing.

“Fairly well, I think,” she said. “One of these days he may show up on your doorstep.”

“I can handle that. I've still got a few friends in the Denver cops and I'd like him to meet them. It's no slam-dunk, you still have to take the tests and do better than the other guys. That's life in the city.”

She leaned over. “I'll bet you were a helluva cop, Janeway.”

“I was pretty good,” I said modestly. “But let's face it, this wasn't my greatest moment. This time I was way too slow on the uptake.”

“You were quick enough when the chips were down.”

“Thanks to Billy I'm here to tell about it.”

She had a package for me. “Don't open it now. Wait till you get home and just accept it with my love and gratitude.”

She brushed off my objections. “Accept it with grace or I swear I'll give it to Goodwill.”

I thought there was a hint in that.

“Looks like books. Feels like books.” I sniffed at the wrapping. “Smells like books.”

“Just a few old things. Some second copies I had lying around.”

I helped her with the chores, and that night I stashed my stuff in the tack room over the barn. We went to the Sandpiper for dinner and afterward she came over and we sat in the open loft and looked out over the road and talked.

She asked about Erin.

“I don't know what's going to happen,” I said. “Right now there's something pretty deep that's dividing us.”

“You're a magnet for killers. She doesn't like that.”

“Yeah. It's hard to believe but she's lost her taste for it.”

“Give this some serious thought, Cliff. She's a good woman.”

“She's a very good woman. I just can't give her what she wants anymore.”

“Your wants change when you reach a certain age, you need some peace and quiet. That's where Erin is now. She wants stability. At the same time, you are what you are. If you get too lonely, you can come up here and stay with me.”

I slept alone in the tack room and struck out for Denver the next day. It was an all-day drive and I got home after dark. That night I opened Sharon's box and was floored at what she had given me. Inside was a note.
I may send you something else from time to time if you promise to keep happy. Love and thanks from Idaho.

And that night, unable to sleep, I went out and drove the streets of Denver. It was a windy, rainy night along East Colfax. I went to my store and began working on my promise to Charlie. The next day I sent out a case of books. Junk fiction. Dupes. Second copies I had lying around. Third copies, fifth copies, old books, stuff that had been in the store forever—stuff I would never sell, but the beginning of an exciting new stash for Charlie.

The perfect gift for a bibliofreak.