These should have been denied by nearly every category. And yet, the system had become so clogged that it had granted them without review.
A faint bleat interrupted her brooding.
Honey looked up to find a familiar baby goat standing at the edge of the clearing. Much to her surprise, she recognized him immediately as the same one from her unfortunate introduction to the family. Pickles, if she recalled correctly. The one with a crooked ear and a splash of black across its nose, like someone had haphazardly dabbed him with a paintbrush.
“No,” she said crisply, pointing at him, but he only blinked at her. “Out of here. Shoo.”
The goat remained perfectly still, chewing something invisible.
“I mean it,” she huffed, flapping her hand. “Go do…goat things. Elsewhere.”
It did not.
She tried to ignore him, but he approached and pushed his head against her back repeatedly as if asking her to play.
With a resigned sigh, Honey got up and scooped the goat into her arms. Its hooves batted gently against her thighs as she tromped through the orchard toward the barn, muttering all the while.
“This is neither appropriate nor efficient,” sheinformed it. “I have a job to do. I cannot frolic around or whatever you do.”
Up ahead, two men passed by on a rumbling tractor. A couple rows away, a short, stocky fellow stood high on a ladder, reaching into the branches of a tree. All three looked strikingly alike—tall, broad-shouldered, sun-browned. Possibly the Fitches, she thought, remembering Emma mentioning the family who helped work the orchard.
Honey and the goat passed row after row of apple trees, their branches heavy with fruit. Golden light spilled through the leaves, thick with morning dew. A breeze stirred the branches, bringing with it the sweet scent of cider and grass and something earthier beneath—mulch, perhaps.
Honey breathed in the scent and strangely found herself enjoying it.
When the barn came into sight, the goat bleated, high and plaintive, a sound not unlike a toddler being told it could not have candy for breakfast. “Enough of that. You belong in a barn, not out by the well. You are a ruminant, not an assistant auditor. Your qualifications are dubious, at best.”
The goat blew out a sigh through its nose and, much to her dismay, a smile crept onto her face. She resisted it at first, then allowed herself the smallest upturn of the lips.
“Clearly,” she muttered, “I’ve been here too long already. I mean, really, talking to a goat and laughing at its responses like a chittering subway rat. The fresh air is depriving my brain of sense.”
The barn appeared ahead, leaning slightly to one side.
Her phone rang. She hustled the rest of the way to the barn and set Pickles down inside the pen.
After pulling the phone from her pocket, Honeyglanced at the screen and immediately straightened. Mr. Aldridge.
“Stay,” she ordered the baby goat. “Go to your mother. Perhaps eat some hay.”
The goat blinked. She turned on her heel and smoothed her hair out of reflex before answering. “Hello, sir.”
“Ms. Baxter,” came the clipped voice of her supervisor. “I trust you’ve settled into Brim’s Hollow without incident.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “No problems other than a very persistent little goat.”
“A trait I admire,” he said without inflection. “I wanted to check on your progress. The board is watching this audit closely, and I know this is very different from your usual process.”
“I’m on track. I plan to begin my documentation this afternoon,” Honey said, shutting the door to the pen. The larger goat across the enclosure gave her a side-eye but didn’t stir. “The conditions here are…different. But manageable.”
Mr. Aldridge cleared his throat. “You should also know Auditor Weisel has submitted for field review.”
Honey’s stomach sank. “Dean?”
“Yes,” Aldridge said, with what might have been the faintest sigh. “He’s been making himself very available to the board. His recent work on the midtown site garnered attention. You’re still the strongest candidate for Assistant to the Director, but you’ll need to make this count.”
The strongest candidate?Honey should be the only candidate. Dean, of all auditors, could barely file properly, let alone handle the duties required of the Assistant to the Director.
Honey's jaw tightened. “I understand. Thank you for the call, sir. I won’t let you down.”
