“Well, I don’t know what he was doing because I didn’t end up at Patsy’s,” I say. “I wound up at Oscar’s Auction House, where Patsy had an alcoholic pop-up, so I still got my beer—too many of them, it seems.” I pause to listen.Did the car just sputter?“After the auction, a bunch of us wound up convincing Oscar to let us hang out and play music. One thing led to another, and by the time I got back to your house, it was well after three this morning, and you were in bed.”
“And then you were gone before I got up, which is weird.”
“Yeah. About that …” I grimace, replaying the events of the night and wishing I’d made more thoughtful choices. “At some point between beer number three and six, I aided and abetted an escaped inmate, paid off his debts so he wouldn’t have to stand trial and be given a death sentence?—”
“What the heck?”
“—and then I had to make accommodations for the guy because his whole family was murdered. Or will be. May they rest in peace.”
“Mira. What in the world are you talking about?”
I groan, checking my phone again in case Hartley decided to join the twenty-first century and return missed calls. “I bought a pig.”
“Youwhat?” Her screech is loud enough to make me grimace. “You have to be kidding me.” She inhales a sharp breath. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re bringing it here just because I’ve let you bring ferrets and a bearded dragon to my house. I draw the line at swine.”
I start to laugh at her unintended rhyme, but stop myself. This is no time for jokes.
“I saved the piggie’s life, Markie. They were going to sell it, fatten it up, and thenprocess it.” My nose wrinkles as my face turns an unfortunate shade of green. “Did you know they called it that? Theyprocessthe animals.”
I gag, rolling down my window for some fresh air.
“No, I didn’t know they called it that,” she says. “But I’m not surprised. It makes sense. I mean, how else do you think we get, I don’t know, sausage? Bacon? Pepperoni?”
“Stop it.” I gag again, coughing as a shot of bile creeps up my throat. “I think I just turned vegetarian.”
“So what are you doing with this pig? And don’t even think about taking it to Lolly’s. She might have three hundred acres, and she might even think she could harness a pig—and Godknows she’d try—but she has no business doing that. It’d wind up knocking her to the ground and eating her alive.”
My jaw hangs open. “Markie! Don’t put something like that out into the universe.”
“What? They do that, you know. If someone falls while in a pigpen, the animals will eat them. They’re opportunistic omnivores.”
I turn toward the open window to get another blast of air.
“These are things you should know before you purchase a live animal,” Markie says. “But that’s not my main concern. I’m still waiting for you to tell me that you’re not taking it to Lolly’s.”
I narrow my eyes, squinting into the sun.Of course, I’m not doing that.
Lolly, our mom’s mom, and the woman who took care of us when our parents died when I was twelve and Markie was fourteen, is the most remarkable woman on the planet.Everyoneloves her. She’s a dumpling-making force of nature who still tends to her rose bushes and volunteers at the retirement center in town. Lolly might be seventy-eight years old, but she’s not old. And only those willing to risk their lives would ever say otherwise.
“No, I’m not taking the pig to Lolly’s,” I say, halfway offended that Markie would consider such a thing. “I’m having Oscar deliver it to Hartley’s.”
Just as expected, the final sentence lands with a silent, yet very loud thud.
“And speaking of Hartley, I need to end this call and try to get ahold of him before I show up on the ranch,” I say, glancing at my phone to confirm that he still hasn’t called me back.
Markie pauses. “So it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t know he’s getting a new pig today.”
“Yeah. That’s a safe assumption.”
“Mira …”
“What?” I say, laughing in the hopes of impregnating this conversation with a little levity. “He’ll love it.”
She laughs, too. I think it’s more of laughterat meand notwith me, but I let it go. I have enough arguments on the horizon.
“Well, if anyone can make Hartley love a pig, it’s you,” Markie says. “Just call me when this is over. I gotta know how it plays out.”
“Ye of little faith.”
