“So soon?” Uncle Richard pouted.
Keoki nodded. “It’s Goat Time.”
“Did he say Go Time?” Hildy’s uncle asked, looking from face to face to see if anyone else knew what was going on.
“Goat,” Keoki corrected. “Baaaaaa.”
“That’s a sheep, bruh.” His brothers started making noises of their own, a chorus of bleating and shrieks rising in volume and pitch.
Hildy clapped her hands in delight. “Goats!”
Beside him, Libby rubbed her temples. When she realized Jefferson was looking, she pasted on a smile.
“Let’s go meet the goats. I mean, you’ll be meeting them. Obviously, I already know them. Since I bottle-fed them from infancy. After they were tragically orphaned. As you may know.”
Jefferson nodded slowly. “I do now.”
Chapter 19
lovelillibetWhat do we get from our animal companions? Laughter. Unconditional love. A reminder to slow down and simplify.
And in some cases, a stunning soft cheese.
Love, Lillibet
Image: A charcuterie board with rosettes of cured meat and rounds of herbed soft cheese, arranged in an ampersand.
#diy #flavorincubator #fresh #neverhidethecheese
“I don’t know what I’m more excited about, their little bouncy hops or the sweet noises they make. They’re just socuddly.” Hildy had spent most of the car ride hyping herself up to meet the goats, steadily raising Libby’s blood pressure. There was no way her pretend pets could live up to this level of anticipation.
“There’s this one YouTuber I follow who taught her goats to dance,” Hildy said from the backseat. “I wish I could have goats. And chickens. Maybe an alpaca. But I was never allowed to have pets.” She didn’t have to look at her uncle; they all knew who she was targeting with that tragic disclosure.
“It’s very hard to travel with pets,” Uncle Richard said. “We all make sacrifices.”
“That’s funny. I distinctly remember Albie having an aquarium.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell,” her uncle replied unconvincingly, as Libby pulled into the driveway of Mr. L’s house.
She bent to pick up her purse, buying herself another moment to gather her courage. Something hit the front of the car with a loud thump. In the passenger seat, Uncle Richard screamed.
Libby jerked upright, convinced she’d rear-ended someone even though they were parked. The headlights illuminated the terrifying face of an animal, front hooves propped on the hood of the car. It stared at them with one demented eye before tipping its head back and shrieking again.
Good to know the scream hadn’t come from Hildy’s uncle.
“You were saying?” Jefferson remarked from the backseat, earning a shove from Hildy.
A sharp tap on her window made Libby jump. She expected to see hot goat breath fogging the glass, for some reason imagining the furry beast circling the car like a killer whale in search of a weak point.
The reality was worse. Mr. L stood inches from her door, tapping the watch on his raised left wrist. Out of sight, the goat screeched again.
You and me both,Libby thought, reluctantly exiting the vehicle.
“Do you see this?” he sputtered, waving at the grass. “They relieve themselves everywhere!”
Libby stopped herself from suggesting he design a goat-friendly outdoor commode. This was more of a diaper situation, judging by the trail of pellets littering the path.
“I need to speak with you,” Mr. L continued, ignoring the curious looks from their guests. Well, Hildy seemed interested. Jefferson’s face was harder to read.
