Page 28 of Salty Pickle

“She does! I have several quarts bottled in those bags. I make cheese and soap.”

“Oh, you’ll have to give us your card. We’re always looking for local goat milk providers. Are you Lucy?”

“I am.”

Kaliyah returns to the counter. “Put your baby next to Simone. If they get along, it’ll do Matilda good to have goat company while you get your pedicure.”

I can’t even keep up with this conversation. Goat company? And did Lucy find herself a buyer for her products?

“Oh… I don’t know.” But even as Lucy says it, Matilda spots the other goat and trots over. Lucy drops the leash. The two goats size each other up, then butt heads good naturedly.

“Oh, look at them,” Kaliyah says. “Simone is going to have such a wonderful time with her.”

A diminutive woman in a blue smock arrives through a beaded curtain. “Lucy? You ready?”

She turns to me. “I guess I’ll see you in a little while?”

I realize I’ll be free of the goat. “Hey, what’s your shoe size?”

“Seven, why?”

“Since there is goat bonding happening, I can run out and buy shoes.”

Lucy frowns. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is. Now go get your pampering.”

She hesitates but seems to realize she’s holding up the woman waiting for her. “Be good, Matilda,” she says and disappears through the curtain.

“You can leave the bags here if you like,” Kaliyah says. “Would you like me to store them in a refrigerator?”

“Sure,” I say, then inexplicably add, “She milked the goat a few hours ago. I’ve kept them in my office fridge.”

“Oooh, nice and fresh. Simone doesn’t produce anymore. They dry up if they go too long between pregnancies.”

“I didn’t know that.”

She takes the bags from me. “You can wait on the sofa with the animals, if you like.”

“No, no. I’m going to look for Lucy some new shoes. Do you have a recommendation? No leather. Natural stuff.”

She smiles. “Of course. There’s a Naturalist Outfitter three blocks down and around the corner to the right. You might want to hurry, though. They close at six.”

“Got it. Should I settle this out? I was serious about paying triple.”

She waves me off. “We can discuss it when she’s done.”

I head for the door, sidestepping the curious menagerie. I had no idea businesses like this existed.

Naturalist Outfitters is a small, bright store nestled between a deli and a pizzeria. I’m relieved to see an entire table of Birkenstocks.

“Can I help you?” A tall, ladle-thin man approaches in cargo shorts and a pale-yellow top with mesh sides.

“Those look like leather,” I say, pointing to the table of shoes.

“They are. Birkenstocks are made of thick, all-natural leather.”

“Are all Birkenstocks leather? My friend is opposed to animal textiles.”

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