Tom was the only one who joined Pam and me in the hot springs. Clearly, the town of Hamner Springs thrives on them. The water is so hot, apparently, that it needs to be cooled before putting in the pools, which are at various temperatures. The sulphurous smells in the pools, however, are not a patch on those in the master bedroom at Elm Cottage at midnight on any given Friday after a visit to the Hook Tandoori. Tom is a sound fellow. Mid-sixties, tall and rangy, far away look in his eyes. He says he does “accounting” in Seattle, but he seems to have got a significant number of motorcycle trip under his belt, so I remain convinced he is a high-powered recluse of some monster .com unicorn. Keeps himself to himself, but just when
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