Dane lumbered forward at the end of the line, his canvas backpack hugging the space between his big shoulders. Yandi and Meg flanked him, pinning him in the middle of one of their conversations. He threw his head back, laughing. Hilary caught herself laughing under her breath too.
“What’s so funny?” Jorie asked, leaning into Hilary’s shoulder. She tried to look around her and out the window again.
“Oh, nothing.”
Jorie gave her that “you’re lying” look that was responsible for the three permanent creases across her forehead. But she knew better than to wait for Hilary to elaborate. Hilary was more stubborn than Jorie was persistent.
“So, tell me about this Dane guy,” she asked while flipping through her folder. Jorie closed it and squeezed her shoulders up to almost ear level. “You two sure looked cozy with your picnic lunch.” Her grin was overdone.
Hilary tried laughing it off, but it stuck in her throat, erupting instead into a sound not unlike a honking goose.
“He runs a really successful operation. I’ve learned a lot from him so far. And—”
“Like what?”
Hilary was taken aback. It was a generalization. She didn’t expect to be put on the spot for specifics, and now couldn’t name one single thing she’d learned from Dane. What had he talked about during his keynote on Monday? Gah, her gray matter betrayed her. Think.Think.
Jorie waited, eyes wide. Finally, she said, “Well, I’m sure it will help us with our plans whenever you think of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Hilary said, rubbing her temple. Maybe if she massaged her head, something intelligent would break through her cerebral constipation. She almost laughed out loud at that. “I wasn’t expecting you to show. I’m still a little surprised.”
Jorie laid a hand on hers. “I know. I should have texted. But when I found out Dad was being released, Tom encouraged me to come. I rented a car, by the way. The Stetmans couldn’t pick me up in Duluth, so I had no choice.”
“Youarethree days late. That’s not their fault.”
“I know, I know,” she said, her voice clipped. “Anyway, that’ll save them the trouble of taking us back on Saturday.” The skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. “I thought you’d be happy I’m here.”
“I am happy.”
Jorie sat back against the seat, still looking at her. “Okay. You seem—I don’t know—distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
Hilary turned away and spent the next twenty minutes daydreaming. She replayed the picnic lunch scene in her mind, how the two of them huddled close on the beach like a romantic scene on the big screen. Where might the afternoon have led if Jorie didn’t show up? Hilary sank against the seat, delighting in the warmth flooding through her as she remembered his hand on hers, his velvet smooth voice in her ear.
The bus turned into a long gravel lane. Ahead, stark white fencing ran across acres of grassy fields and surrounded the tidy red buildings. A small herd of alpacas and two donkeys grazed contentedly in the closest paddock. The wide girth of one of the donkeys could only mean a birth was imminent.
Fred and Elaine Behar were like Mr. and Mrs. Claus in canvas shirts and denim. They delighted in showing off the alpacas, “their kiddos” as they called them. Soon after the tour began, Fred trotted Lottie, a cocoa-colored female, out of the paddock on a lead.
“She’s the farm ambassador,” he said, saying the rest of the herd appreciated Lottie keeping the limelight away from them. Alpacas are typically shy, Fred said. They stick together when threatened.
Lottie let Hilary run her hand over her soft dense coat. The animal hummed, watching Hilary with its luminous eyes then craned her neck to check on the rest of her friends.
“What about that one?” Yandi asked, pointing to the farthest corner of the corral. A solitary llama stood watchful.
“He’s our guard dog. Nothing is going to mess with the alpacas as long as Chester’s on duty,” Elaine said. She whistled. Chester stood erect, his ears twitching. Slowly, he lumbered toward them. “Be warned though. He’s ornery.”
Dane, standing against the fence, arm propped along the top rail, turned his full attention to Chester. The animal took his time approaching the fence, not fearful of the dozens of strangers watching him. When Chester was within ten feet, Dane stuck out his hand, tempting the llama to come closer.
Fred Behar snickered. “Like she said, Chester can be something else.”
There was no way Hilary would get that close to Chester. She knew the animals had a reputation. Their neighbors back in Redville had a llama. Dickens was an escape artist. Hilary counted on a llama sighting on their property at least every few months. One time Dickens was found in the next county amongst a herd of sheep, snacking in their ryegrass field.
Dane cooed at the animal, waving his hand to entice Chester.
“Such a handsome guy you are.” His fingers were inches from Chester’s neck.
“He’s going on four years old. We got him from a sanctuary in California last year,” said Fred.
