Twyla's Last Trip. Karen Mueller Bryson

was not having much luck getting the dog off of her. “It's all gooey,” she complained. “Please get it off of me.”

      T.J. clapped and Dakota glanced up at her master. “Okay, Girl,” T.J. said. “That's enough.”

      Dakota gave Lucinda a long, sad look then lumbered back to her pillow. Sudden horror crossed Lucinda's face when she noticed that Dakota had left something in her lap. “What is that?”

      “Bloodhound drool,” T.J. snickered. “It ain't gonna kill you.”

      T.J. handed Lucinda some tissues and she wiped the drool from her lap. She made a point of sticking the wet tissues right in the middle of T.J.'s desk.

      “I came here to find out about my mother's estate,” Lucinda said.

      “I figured a hundred million would get your attention.”

      “Would you mind telling me how my mother acquired all that money?”

      “Hurricane in My Heart.”

      “What?” Lucida wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

      T.J. turned on an old tape recorder and played the country hit. When the song finished, Lucinda shook her head in disbelief. “You've got to be kidding.”

      “Your mother wrote the biggest selling country song in history,” said T.J. “She invested well and never spent a cent of it. The fortune will be yours when you fulfill the terms of your mom's will.”

      “What terms?” A bit of nervousness crept into Lucinda’s otherwise stoic demeanor.

      T.J. raised an eyebrow. “You really didn’t read the entire document I left with you.”

      “The part where it said a hundred million dollars threw me a little bit.”

      “Something actually threw you?” T.J. asked sarcastically. He grabbed his copy of the will, opened to the middle of the document and began to read aloud. “In order to inherit my estate, my daughter, Lucy Starr—”

      T.J. gave Lucinda a sly grin then continued. “Must take me on one last trip. She must take my ashes from Chicago to Santa Monica along the famous Route 66 and make every stop I have designated along the way. Lucy has eight days from the reading of this will to complete the trip or she will forfeit all rights to my estate.”

      One lone bead of sweat dripped down Lucinda’s forehead. “This isn't possible,” she said. “I don't have time for a trip. I don't have time to grab dinner on the way back to Chicago. I've got data to compile. I've got a dissertation to defend. How can I possibly take my mother's ashes on a trip across the country? Is she mad?”

      “She's dead,” T.J. reminded her.

      “This is insane!” Lucinda screeched, fast approaching a state of utter frenzy.