Chapter Thirty-four
The next morning, Mickey opened her door and found Babbs with a small green tackle box in one hand and a spinning rod in the other. “Fishing before breakfast?”Mickey asked.
Babbs stepped out onto the gantry. “If I eat breakfast, I end up eating all day. And when I’m fishing, I’m not eating– just thinking about it.”
“Good ploy. Does coffee qualify as eating?”
Babbs grinned. “Black, no sugar.”
They split up at the end of the gantry, Babbs heading down the stairs to the staging and Mickey stepping into the cafeteria. She looked about, her face stark with guarded concern, but the men were still sleeping off the after-effects of the previous evening. The coffee urn was plugged in and the coffee steaming hot. Mickey filled two mugs.
Balancing her precious cargo, Mickey
