It was rather telling when Luella took to looking at her as if she were some unknown creature from another land before she shrugged. “Since you’ve evidently never heard the namemeemawbefore, know that everyone in these parts calls their grandmother that—well, except for the Murchendorfers, who’ve turned all hoity-toity and are now calling their meemawGrandmother, although I have heard Sally slip a few times and call her Granny.” Her lips curved. “Sally would be appalled to learn that Meemaw has always refused to allow any of her grandchildren to address her as Granny because she says Granny evokes images of old ladies wearing square spectacles and smoking pipes.”
Owen leaned closer to Camilla. “Just so you know, Meemaw doesn’t smoke a pipe, but our great-aunt Elma has been known to do so upon occasion.”
Camilla blinked. “Great-Aunt Elma sounds, ah, well, delightful.”
“Not a word anyone ever uses to describe her.”
Before Camilla could do more than blink again, Gladys gamboled into view, dragging Edward behind her as Lottie jogged by his side.
A split second later, Esmerelda stopped chewing what seemed to be a tulip stalk and released a squeal that left the hair on the back of Camilla’s neck standing at attention.
“Esmerelda, no!” Luella yelled as the pig surged into motion, tearing the rope from Luella’s grasp as she charged straight for Gladys, who was now frozen in place, evidently too terrified to move.
Time seemed to slow down until a blur of black fur whizzed past Camilla, El Cid having apparently managed to escape the confines of his traveling basket.
In the span of a heartbeat, the cat was in front of Esmerelda, back arched and fur standing on end, hissing up a storm right before he raised a paw and swatted the pig right across the snout, earning a squeal of outrage in return.
Eleven
For the briefest of seconds, Camilla braced herself for the worst, until she realized that Esmerelda was not preparing for an imminent battle.
Instead, the pig was simply standing still as a statue in the middle of the road, her little piggy eyes fixated on El Cid, who was now spitting as well as hissing as he held his ground in front of Gladys, clearly having appointed himself her protector. A bit of a snuffle escaped the pig before she dropped her head and lumbered her way over to the Murchendorfers’ destroyed flower garden, plopping onto her stomach and dropping her pink head in between her front hooves.
“What in the world has that beast of a cat done to my darling Esmerelda?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Camilla discovered an older lady striding from Owen’s house, her gray hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing an apron over a faded blue dress that ended above her ankles, revealing sturdy black boots that were similar to ones Camilla had seen her gardeners wearing.
“I think a more important question, Meemaw, would be how Esmerelda was able to wreak havoc on the entire neighborhood,” Owen countered.
Meemaw shot a glance at Esmerelda, who was still lying in the Murchendorfers’ decimated flower bed, then took a moment to look up and down the street, wincing a second later.
“Looks like my darling must have gotten through the back fence somehow, although I know I didn’t leave the gate open, what with how Esmerelda’s been known to wander.”
“Knowing your pig, she probably gnawed her way through the fence,” Owen said before he walked over to his grandmother and placed a kiss on her cheek. “The question of the hour, though, is why she’s here in the first place, or for that matter, why you’re here. You haven’t come to the island since Mother and Father left town.”
“I needed to make a statement.”
“And that statement involved bringing your pig?”
“’Course it did.” Meemaw nodded to the Murchendorfer house. “Ada Mae was rude to Luella and had me realizing she needed to be reminded of her roots. She seems to have forgotten she was raised on a farm, played in the mud with your father when they were children, and used to take great enjoyment minding the pigs her father kept.” Meemaw began wiping her hands on her apron. “These days, Ada Mae’s turned far too pretentious for my tastes. After she didn’t invite Luella to Stanley’s homecoming tea, and then didn’t reprimand him for having the audacity to tell his once-dear friend that she wasn’t good enough for the likes of him, my tolerance for idiocy came to a rapid end.”
“You never have tolerance for idiocy,” Owen pointed out.
“Too right I don’t.” Meemaw drew herself up. “I hesitated to get involved in the matter, though, knowing how these matters can escalate and turn troublesome. However, after Luella told me about the pond debacle, and that Stanley, with all his talk about refined airs, didn’t have the decency to remove himself and his friends from her vicinity once he realized Luella was practically naked, I had no choice but to insert myself into what could very well turn into a repeat of the Hatfield–McCoy fracas.”
“We are not going to get into that type of feud with the Murchendorfers, even if they have insulted the family,” Owen argued.
“I don’t know how else we can resolve the matter because it’s doubtful Stanley or Ada Mae will apologize.”
“We’ll resolve it peacefully with the assistance of Miss Camilla Pierpont,” Owen said, sending a nod Camilla’s way.
Camilla immediately found herself under the unwavering stare of Meemaw, fighting the peculiar urge to fidget as the lady gave her a thorough perusal.
“Good heavens, dear, you look like you’ve literally been dragged through the mud.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Camilla said, glancing down at a gown that certainly no longer resembled the Parisian masterpiece she’d donned earlier. “And while I’m unaccustomed to meeting anyone’s grandmother while drenched in substances that may not only be mud, I’m Miss Camilla Pierpont, as Owen mentioned, and you’re apparently, ah ... Meemaw?”
“Might be more comfortable for you to be calling me Mrs. Chesterfield, or Beulah would be fine, unless...” Beulah’s gaze sharpened on Camilla. “If you’re fixin’ to marry my grandson, you might as well call me Meemaw from the start since that’ll save you the bother of switchin’ names after vows have been exchanged.”
