“I knew Hammermill's Greavette would make a better impression, but I guess I'm just a fan of worksin-progress. Finished boats don't need me, and Podnah still did. Once she had floated clear, I cranked her up and backed out of the boathouse. I cleared the slip, slid into the Tallulah, and turned south to pick up Cindy and Annie. They lived in a two-room cottage along one of the finger creeks that fed the lake. Much like the fish camp Emma and I had first slept in, it was long on character and... short on everything else. When the engineers flooded the town of Burton, the waters rose up the sides of the small Appalachian Mountains and formed what are now fingers where people built houses, or shacks, depending on their budget. On one of those fingers is Wildcat Creek Cove. The farthest reaches of the creek are narrow and overhanging with trees where more than one rope swing has been hung. Somewhere in the fifties, Cindy explained, her parents had bought what they called their "Sugar Shack"-a summer vacation spot and weekend getaway.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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