Janine set down the cheese and took Shiloh’s arm. “Let’s go find Mike.”
They walked through the dining room and the kitchen. Shiloh liked their house. The furniture was simple, the walls were white, and there was art everywhere.
Janine led her out the back door. This is where the music was playing. There was a big fire pit, and people were gathered around it, wearing warm coats and stocking caps, and drinking beer.
Mikey was standing by the grill—cooking sausage, it looked like.
“Mike!” Janine called out. “Look who I found.”
His face lit up. “Shiloh!” He reached out to her with the hand that wasn’t holding barbecue tongs.
“Hey,” Shiloh said, hugging him. “You didn’t tell me this was a party.”
He winked. “If I’d told you it was a party, you wouldn’t have come.”
“That is one-hundred-percent correct,” Shiloh said, looking out at the yard and grimacing.
Mikey grinned. “I thought it would be good for you to meet some people. Some cool Omaha people. Artists. Writers. Thinkers.”
“Mike, I work in community theater. My life is lousy with artists, writers and thinkers.Literallylousy. Like, I have to have my office sprayed twice a year.”
“Wow,” Janine said, looking at him. “She really is just like Cary. You weren’t kidding.”
Mikey shook his head, still smiling. “Two peas who won’t leave the fucking pod.”
“I left the pod,” Shiloh said. “I’m here. I brought you wine.”
He took it from her. “Thank you, Shiloh. You want some? You want a beer? Hot cider? You want a sausage? They’re from Stoysich.”
Stoysich was a local meat place. And Mikey was wearing a vintage sweatshirt from a defunct Omaha brewery. He was apparently getting back to his roots. Maybe Omaha got charming as soon as you left.
She sighed. “Sure. I’ll take a sausage.”
“I got these rolls at Orsi’s,” he said, picking up a bun.
“Stoysich, Orsi’s. Is Warren Buffett here? Is Bright Eyes playing later?”
Mikey rolled his eyes and handed her the sausage. Janine had stepped away from them to talk to someone else.
“Hey...” Shiloh dropped her voice and nodded her head toward Janine. “Congratulations. I didn’t know...”
“Didn’t Cary tell you?” Mikey was grinning again. “Shotgun wedding.”
“I’m happy for you,” Shiloh said sincerely.
“Thanks,” he said, also sincere and a little embarrassed about it. He bumped his hip against hers. “Thanks, Shy.” He went back to the grill. “It was kind of an accident, if I’m being honest. But then we were like,Fuck yeah. Let’s just do this!Like, probably this is the best thing that’s ever happened, you know?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Good for you. I’ll set you up with free toddler classes at the theater. We’ve got voice, movement, pop-and-lock dancing...”
Mikey pointed the tongs at her. “I have a feeling that’s probably a great gift. Thank you. You’re like one of the fairy godmothers who brings the good shit. The blessings.”
“So you’re really back in Omaha...”
“Yeah.” He nodded deeply. “At least part-time. I need to be in New York sometimes, for the business stuff. And the parties. But I can painthere.” He looked like he was sharing an epiphany with her. “I mean, I canreallypaint here. It’s so quiet. And so far from anyone who wants something from me.”
“That’ll last approximately... when is Janine due? Two months?”
“Ha!” Mikey said. “Right?Right, right, right.” He turned a row of sausages. “That’s okay. I’m up for it.”
