“If you want to live like a hermit, that’s your business,” he said.

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“Get over yourself, Alex.” If Jackie had stayed in Scotland, he might have ended up one of those old caddies who carry bags all day and then head to the local pub. Instead he came here to the Upper Peninsula and eventually opened up his own pub, complete with the overstuffed chairs and the fireplace. He had been here over fifty years, and yet you could still hear the hint of a Scottish burr in his voice. On the rare occasions when he talked about his childhood in Glasgow, that old burr seemed to grow even stronger.

“Reason I asked you,” he said, “was because we needed another player. Swanson couldn’t make it, which would have left us with five. You know how much I hate poker with five players.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You can’t play high-low or all those other horseshit games you like to call.”

He just shook his head at that one.

“Swanson,” I said. “Do I know him?”

“You’ve seen him around,” he said. “He’s a lawyer in the Soo.”

“A lawyer,” I said. “My favorite.”

“He’s not so bad,” Jackie said. “Just because he’s a lawyer…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“There are good lawyers in the world.”

“Yeah, three of them at last count.”

The road was deserted, as always. We wouldn’t see a single car until we got to Brimley. There was nothing but pine trees all around us. And the lake. There’s always a wind of some sort coming off the lake, but tonight it was almost calm.

“Where are we playing again?”

“Win Vargas’s,” he said. “I don’t think you’ve met him. You’d remember if you had.”

“Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound promising.”

“He’s good for a few laughs,” he said. “Among other things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said. “I just hope you don’t mind expensive whiskey and cigars. I may have mentioned your little obsession with Canadian beer, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a case waiting for you. If he does, remember to make a big deal about it. He likes to impress people.”