Stone 588 by Gerald A Browne Page B

life."
    "So let's have a little boredom, is that it?"
    "I think maybe the only thing we lack is some danger."
    "Living is dangerous."
    "I mean danger in the ordinary sense."
    "Give me a for-instance."
    She considered a few things such as sky diving and cliff climbing but they were too commonplace. "It just seems living would be appreciated more if some risk of survival were de rigueur. "
    Springer decided it was only driving talk. Going along with it, he went tough. "Have you ever put it all on the line?"
    "No," she was sorry to admit.
    "Want to?"
    "Yeah."
    "Okay. How about botulism? This weekend we'll have some peaches my mother canned three years ago."
    Up went Audrey's chin. Her lips tightened. "I just stopped loving you," she announced.
    Springer didn't react.
    After a few miles she turned to him with a smile and told him, "I'm loving you again." It was her contention that love was full of such stops and starts, might as well admit it.
    "I'm hungry," Springer said.
    "Eats are in the back."
    "All I had for breakfast was a bagel." Springer reached to the rear seat for a brown-paper shopping bag. He placed the bag on his lap and from it brought out a couple of devil's-food Twinkies. He tossed those back in and rummaged around in the bag among some Goldenberg Peanut Chews, a cylinder of Pringle's potato chips, Goobers, Good & Plentys, a box of Sweet 'n Swinging donuts, a tangle of strawberry red laces, a Bloomingdale's bag containing a dozen Mrs. Fields macadamia and butter-sweet chocolate chip cookies, and so on. He should have known. For her a feast of quick food was no less enjoyable than eight courses at Lutece. After a junk-food binge she would sometimes expiate by putting herself through what she called a cleanse, which meant eating nothing but watermelon, for example, for two or three days.
    "Christ, Audrey, I need something solid . . ."
    "Give me a Devil Dog, will you?"
    "There aren't any Devil Dogs." Springer was rankled. His blood sugar was low and his stomach was crabbing.
    "I know for certain I bought some Devil Dogs."
    Springer dug roughly in the bag and found what she wanted. He used his teeth to tear the comer of its cellophane wrapper, peeled the wrapper away, and handed to her the piece of chemically loaded devil's-food-like cake. She went right at it.
    "I need something I can get my teeth into," he grumbled.
    "Have a Big Jerk," she suggested.
    He refused silently. Tossed the shopping bag of stuff into the back. However, five miles later he was tugging with his teeth at a tough pepperoni stick and wishing he could assuage himself with the promise of a marvelous home-cooked meal at their destination. His mother, however, was a dreadful and unimaginative cook. About her best effort was instant cocoa.
    The BMW went ten miles farther up major highway 684. There it turned off at exit 6 and got onto lesser Route 35 for a little more of New York before it crossed over into Connecticut and the town of Ridgefield. In a hilly estate area, set back on a winding road between Ridgefield and Wilton, was High Meadow Clinic. Audrey got a small squeal from the tires as she turned in at the entranceway and proceeded up the crunching drive.
    Janet Springer was seated on the front steps of the once-private mansion. She'd been waiting, watching for the car, and she stood quickly when it came into view. She'd taken care with her appearance for the occasion, had on a neat tailored suit of beige wool and appropriate high-heeled pumps. Gathers of a small French-blue silk square peeked from the breast pocket. Her hair was clean and held back from her face by a perfectly placed banette. She was also wearing an excited smile.
    She kissed and held first Springer, then Audrey. Springer went into the clinic and signed her out. He loaded her three pieces of luggage into the trunk of the car. "Are these all?" he asked.
    "For now," Janet said. "We'll be sending for the rest."
    She sounded so positive about that. Springer thought. She'd said in