“The yoga studio in town approached us and—” I held out a hand, wishing for a simple way to explain thatyeah, this place has fucking changed in the past decade and a halfandif you hadn’t left and forgotten all about me, you’d know that. “Their students clean out the farm stand after every class. It’s good for business.”
“Good for business,” Shay repeated as she looked me over. “Okay.”
I would’ve responded to that loaded look, would’ve said something about howsomeonehad to pay attention to the business. But Gennie scaled the fence and dropped into the goat pen, sword and all, and yelled, “I named this one Lacey. See? This one. She doesn’t have any lace though. It’s just a cool name. And that one’s Cagney. Noah said I had to name her Cagney even if I think it’s a dumb name.”
“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s dumb,” I called.
“Is she allowed to be in there?” Shay asked me.
“They’re harmless. Worst they’ll do is knock her over and she’d just enjoy that.” I shrugged. “Anyway, do you get the impression that I could stop her?”
“Fair,” Shay murmured. After a few minutes of listening to Gennie’s explanation of each goat’s name and watching her attempt to pick up the smallest of the group only for that goat to lick her face until she fell down giggling, Shay glanced over at me again. “I can’t believe you’re here. With goats and a greenhouse with secret projects and akid.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to her and most of them were not kind. But more than any of that, I wanted to tell her that I couldn’t believeshewas here. I hated that. I didn’t appreciate her draining me of all the resentment and contempt I’d built up over the years with little more than a smile from her.
Instead, I called, “Gennie. You’re gonna lose that sword if you’re not careful.”
“Okay,” she replied, wrestling the sword away from Dottie. “We have to see the puppies now. Shay wants to meet the puppies.”
I glanced over at Shay, a brow raised. “She’ll keep you here all night if you’re not careful.”
“You have that many puppies?” she asked with a laugh. “You’re good to worry but you don’t have to rescue me. Not from your little girl. She’s a real sweetheart, Noah.”
I could’ve corrected her. Could’ve mentioned that Gennie was my niece and I was her legal guardian and I didn’t have a wife waiting at home for me. That none of this had happened the ordinary way.
But once again, all I could do was watch while Gennie skipped off toward the dog run with Shay at her side. Here I was, thinking I’d beaten the worst of my shyness out of me years ago only for Shay to bring it roaring back.
With an annoyed shake of my head, I studied the goats. “Would it have killed any of you to be rude or offensive? You have no problem doing that during yoga. You ate that woman’s hat the other day, Lacey, but now you’re playing nice? That’s some very convenient bullshit.”
The goats bleated their outrage back at me.
I yanked off my hat, ran the flat of my hand over my forehead, and marched across the field. I was fully aware that I could’ve gone back to work and left Gennie and Shay to visit with the dogs. I didn’t have to hover. I didn’t have to supervise. Gennie knew her way around the farm, and Shay—well, I didn’t give a fuck about Shay.
That wasn’t true but I preferred it to the alternative.
When I reached the dog run, it was the sound of Gennie’s laughter that hit me first. It was deep and infectious, the kind that came from the belly and forced a smile to my face every time I heard it. She didn’t laugh like that often. She didn’t laugh much at all.
I found her up against the fence, a pair of old golden retrievers nosing at her pockets. Odds were high she had food stowed in there. It was a wonder the goats hadn’t gotten there first.
“Can dogs eat bagels?” she asked through her laughter.
“Just a little bit,” I told her.
Shay watched while Gennie broke the bagel she’d been saving since fuck if I knew when into crumbs and fed the dogs from the palm of her hand. Some of the other dogs circled, sniffing at the newcomer and accepting the head scratches she doled out. Most of them were content to laze in the sun, others peeked out from inside the kennels. Not a lot of running took place in this dog run.
“Noah,” Shay started, gesturing to the old-timer leaning against her leg, “when did you get all these animals? I don’t remember you guys having”—she waved at the dozen or so dogs—“anything like this before.”
“We have them so they don’t die,” Gennie replied, still focused on distributing bits of bagel.
Shay gave me awhat the hell does that meangrimace.
I peered at the bunkhouses where some of the farm crew lived. Easier than making eye contact with Shay. “We take in elderly dogs that have trouble finding homes. Give ’em a comfortable place to live out their days.” I tipped my chin toward the bunkhouse. “The guys like having dogs around.”
“And we have chickens too,” Gennie said, “but they’re dumb bitches.”
“Imogen,” I cried. “We just talked about calling things dumb and you know that other word is not acceptable.”
Gennie cut a glance toward Shay. Her voice lowered, she said, “But they’re not smart.”
