Page 11 of Finding Yesterday
“I have?” I bend down, and Winston jumps right into my arms. I might just be in love.
“Hey, guys,” a gruff voice calls out.
“Jack,” I mumble, surprised. “What are you doing here?” He traded his dress shirt and vest for jeans and a T-shirt that shows a hint of a tattoo winding around his bulging bicep. I find myself curious about the rest of it.
I blink the thought away.
“Howdy, Mr. Jack,” Daisy cuts in, brushing her hands on her pants.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Daisy.” Jack flashes Daisy a sweet smile, and I stare just a moment too long. I glance away as he continues, “I left the restaurant unattended, so I gotta hurry back before my new line chefs catch the place on fire.” Then he turns to me and asks, “You picking up vegetables?”
“Yup. Just made a little pig stop first.” I stroke my fingers over Winston’s soft ears, wishing his hair would stay like this. When Winston closes his eyes in bliss, I’m tempted to take more pictures. This expression is priceless. I hold him up to my cheek so I can feel his ears on my face.
As Jack approaches, he asks, “So, how are you doing?”
I can tell by Jack’s tone that he sincerely wants to know, so I hesitate, choosing my words. “I’m not totally okay, but I’m going to be.”
“That’s good to hear.” Jack approaches before patting Winston’s stomach. “Look at that belly. He’s gonna give us some tender cuts of pork.”
My eyes go huge, and I hold back a gasp, pulling Winston away from Jack. I whip my head around to Daisy. “You guys don’t sell pigs for meat here. They’re teacups!” Jessie Mac and Daisy use the hogs to eat up all the excess whey from their cheese making.
“We do now, darlin’,” she replies, a pained expression on her face.
Jack rubs his hands together. “At The Fine Bone we promise local farm-to-table meats. Mr. Jessie Mac and Ms. Daisy offered to be the exclusive provider for us, which I really appreciate. They run a top-quality farm.”
“Aw, thanks, aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” Daisy gives him a glowing smile.
Great. Jessie Mac and Daisy had a wonderful farm with animals for children to pet, amazing vegetables, and cheese. Now that’s all changing.
“But you have the cutest hogs in Graham County, Ms. Daisy.” My voice is pleading.
“Theyarecute, but everybody loves bacon, my dear.” She sighs as she approaches me.
Daisy is coming to snatch the hat off Winston’s head so Jack can take him and kill him. The thought knocks the wind out of me.
I catch my breath enough to plead, “But he’s just a baby.” I give Winston a good back scratch as I pull him tighter.
“He has to go before he’s weaned off his mama, so the time is now.” Daisy folds her arms.
“Yeah, he’s just the right size,” Jack says, matter-of-factly. “If he gets any bigger, he won’t be a good suckling pig. Pops needs to get him prepped tonight for Saturday’s roast.”
“Are there any other piglets to choose from?” I look around the pen, desperate.
“Nope, he’s the last of the litter,” Daisy answers.
Okay, I have to get Winston out of here. My mind spinning, I blurt, “Hey, Jack, do you mind if I bring Win…I mean the pig to your grandfather’s?” I pause, thinking as I speak. “I have to go by his house anyway, and you said you need to get back to the restaurant.”
“What?” Jack furrows a brow. “Why would you need to go by Pops’s house?”
I tap my finger on Winston’s back. “I need to stop by because…” I trail off, demanding my brain to come up with something. “Because Daddy wanted me to bring him a bottle of red zin. He’s hoping you’ll consider it for your restaurant.” That could be true. Daddy would love it if The Fine Bone carried any of our wines.
Jack swipes a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows raised. “That’s okay. Pops just lives right there.” He points to the house down the road.
“I know,” I say, still scrambling. “But I thought you had to get back to the restaurant. Don’t want a fire, now.” As I’m speaking, I realize Jack is no longer looking at me, but staring at something behind me. I’m pretty sure he’s stopped listening, as he seems a thousand miles away. I flip around, but the only thing I see is Daisy’s old shed. I turn back to Jack, saying, “Is everything okay?”
My question doesn’t seem to register, and his face pales. He finally blinks before looking at Daisy and croaking out, “Was that shed always white?”
Daisy approaches, a quizzical look on her face. “No, it used to be red, but Jessie Mac finally decided to sand it and paint it when the siding weathered. Why, hon?”
