He’d planned to stay in a motel in the next town, but Cliff had found him an old tent at the lodge and let him pitch it on an out-of-the-way stretch of lakefront. With hardly a word, Cliff had disappeared for the night. He’d reappeared shortly after sunup, bearing stale doughnuts and a thermos of piping-hot black coffee, more from duty, Byron suspected, than from a desire to be nice. Now Cliff was standing on a rock, staring out at the lake. Byron drank from the thermos cup and dipped his plain doughnut into the coffee to soften it. Even as kids, Cliff hadn’t been picky about food. Byron wasn’t, either, but he did prefer fresh doughnuts. So far, neither had had much to say. Byron had opted against trying to explain his trip to Tyler three years ago—one attempted explanation in the past twelve hours had already backfired. And from Cliff’s reaction to seeing his younger brother in town, Byron guessed Miss Liza hadn’t yet confessed she’d shot off an invitation to her future in-laws.
What do You think about Wisconsin Wedding (Welcome To Tyler, No. 3)?
