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expense—including parts—if you’ll agree to lend me everything I’ll need for this tournament.”
    The brothers looked at each other. Big Boy scratched his ear.
    Junior shook his head.
    â€œWhat?” Quinn asked.
    â€œWho’s gonna teach you how to fish or where to go or how to drive the damn boat?”
    â€œI’m assuming that you will.”
    â€œMe?”
    Quinn nodded.
    â€œI don’t know as that would be fair.”
    â€œWhy not? It’s a Pro-Am tournament. You’d be the Pro and I’d be the Am.”
    â€œI wasn’t thinkin’ about entering this year. My back’s givin’ me a fit.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have to do anything but supervise.”
    â€œSupervise?”
    She nodded. “Just be there and tell me what to do.”
    He thought about that. “Who gets the purse if we win?”
    Gotcha.
    Quinn smiled. “You think we might win?”
    He held up a puffy hand. “I ain’t sayin’ that. I’m just asking. Hypothetic-like.”
    Quinn glanced down at the flier. It had been folded and refolded so many times it was starting to feel like a piece of flannel. She reread the awards section. Top prize was twenty-five thousand dollars—and a fully loaded, twenty-one foot Ranger bass boat equipped with a gas-guzzling, two-hundred-and-fifty horsepower Evinrude ETech motor.
    â€œI won’t have much need for a bass boat in Batavia,” she offered.
    Big Boy cleared his throat.
    Junior took the cue. “We already got a bass boat.”
    â€œTrue. But you could sell this one.”
    â€œYou’d give it to us free and clear?”
    Quinn nodded. “Yes sir, I would.”
    â€œAnd you’d fix the bike for free?” Junior asked. “No charge to us for parts or labor?”
    â€œThat’s right. And if I can’t get it done here, I’ll even pay to trailer it out to my shop and back.”
    Even to a crusty old New Englander, that had the ring of a pretty sweet deal.
    Junior folded.
    â€œHow tall are you?” he asked.
    Quinn didn’t really understand his question. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYou appear to be about six foot, maybe more. I’m six-three. And don’t neither of us look like we ever say no to a plate of seconds.”
    She got where he was headed. “You mean we wouldn’t both fit into the same boat?”
    â€œNot likely,” he said.
    â€œWell, I’m glad you brought that up, because I have a couple of associates who will want to ride along, too.”
    â€œAssociates?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œFishing ain’t a group sport.”
    Quinn shrugged. “Is it against the rules?”
    He took his time answering. “Nope. But it don’t work that way.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Junior thought about it. “Are these ‘associates’ women?” He paused. “Like you?”
    â€œMostly. But not as big.”
    â€œYou can’t have a bunch of women squawking on a boat. All that yammering would drive the fish into hiding.”
    â€œCan’t we use a bigger boat?”
    â€œBigger? Bigger’n what?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Quinn waved a hand. “Bigger than the usual.” She gestured toward the yard, where all manner of boats were trailered or stacked up on blocks. “What about one of those float boats you have out there?”
    â€œYou mean them pontoons?” He shook his head. “They don’t go fast enough.”
    â€œCan’t you put a bigger motor on one?”
    â€œMaybe. But it’s gotta have a cutoff switch on it.”
    â€œI can rig that.”
    â€œThey don’t have no live well on ’em.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œIt’s where you keep the fish until they can be weighed up and measured.”
    â€œYou mean like a big fish tank?”
    â€œKinda. But it has to have fresh water moving inside it.” Quinn