“Oh, really?” Amethyst sips on her tea. “To be honest, I don't really know why Hunter is in town either. I think it has something to do with that rich model he was dating, but…” She shrugs. “I'm kind of on the outs. I mean, if I were his grandmother, maybe I'd know, but I'm just the family friend.” She sips more tea and shakes her head. “No one shares these things with me.”
“I thought it was a little weird that I was told to make dinner for this big celebration, and yet I didn't know what the celebration was for, and no one mentioned it at the dinner.”
“How did the dinner go?” she asks, changing the subject.
“It went really well, thanks. Emma was great. She made steaks and salads and twice-baked potatoes, and I think everyone was really impressed.”
“That does sound delicious. I love red meat, though my doctor recommends I eat more fish. Did I ever tell you about the poem I wrote about a cow?”
“No,” I say, and I pray to God that she doesn't regale me with it now.
“It's a short one,” she says. “I can tell it to you now if you want.”
I don't want. I don't want,I think to myself, but I just nod slowly. “Sure.”
“Ooh, this is one of my favorites.” She takes a couple more sips of her tea, puts the cup and saucer down on a table, and then turns to me dramatically. “Moo,” she says loudly, and it almostmakes me jump. “Moo,” she says again. I blink at her. I really hope there's going to be more words in the poem thanmoo. “The cow goes moo, even when it's doing a poo. But you cannot go moo moo.” She says it again, her face contorting like she thinks she's the cow, and I wonder if she has finally cracked, and I'm finally seeing someone moments before they go into a mental institution. “Quack,” she says, and my jaw drops.
Wait. Wasn't she meant to saymoo?
“Quack,” she says loudly. “The cow doesn't go quack. It goes moo. You know it's because you do too. These are the things that happen on the farm. These are the ways that we live to learn.”
She tries to rhymelearnwithfarm, but it doesn't quite work, and you can tell she realizes that because she shifts slightly and pauses.
“Moo,” she says again in a light tone. “Moo. That's the sound of the cow before it goes into the shed, before the farmer comes with his knife, and one last time it goesmoobefore it’s dead.” She pauses and looks at me expectantly, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. What I do know is that her final image has left me terrified.
“Well… that's powerful,” I say. “I feel like you're—” I lick my lips nervously. “Really making a statement about the meat industry.”
“Oh, do you think so?” she says, looking excited. “I wanted to write a book that would make people think twice about—” She pauses.
“About buying meat?” I ask her.
“No,” she says. “About buying designer handbags.”
“Huh?” I stare at her, and she beams like she has another poem she wants to share that explains, and I will light the house on fire before I listen to it. I'm about to turn around and leave the room because obviously, she's crazy, when Captain walks in.
“Good morning, Captain.”
“Top of the morning to you,” he says in a Scottish voice, and I can't help but laugh. “Morning there, lassie.”
“I didn't know that you were from the British Isles,” I say, and he bursts out laughing.
“Well, I'm not, but I have an alter ego that thinks he was a pirate back in the days of Elizabeth the First and the Spanish Armada.”
Shit, here we go again.This is really not happening, is it?
“Good morning, everyone.” Enid walks in, beaming. “Oh, Gina. Let me thank you once again for the delicious dinner you made last night. It was fantastic. I've never had a steak so soft, so succulent, so special.” She looks over at Amethyst and nods. “You are here early.”
“Not really. I thought the meeting was meant to start five minutes ago.”
“Was it?” Enid says, shrugs, and walks over to Captain and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “We must go out for a sail on the boat one of these days, Captain.”
“I would like that,” he says. “In fact, I've written a short story about a fisherman and a dolphin. Would everyone like to hear it?”
“I would love to,” I say quickly, “but I just remembered that I needed to do some research for the book. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Waverly, but would you mind if I actually miss today's writing group?” She stares at me in dismay, but I don't wait for her answer. “Thank you. I'm going to go to the library now.” I head out of the living room and practically run down the hallway, then go up the stairs to the library and take a deep breath.
“I'm living in the Twilight Zone,” I say.
I'm about to call Emma when I see my phone is already ringing. Holly again. Shit. I want to groan. I know she must be furious because I haven't spoken to her in days now. I take a seat at the table and look around the library. It's filled withleather-bound books, and I notice a stack of photo albums and yearbooks. I jump up and grab one of them and start looking through them. There are pictures of the Waverly family, including photos of Enid and Preston on their wedding day.
