Page 73 of Salty Pickle

“The expo?” I hold out the passes.

He glances over, then returns to the kettle. “I didn’t want you to miss it because of Caroline. Thought you could pick up some milking supplies. Maybe find some customers.”

My eyes smart, hard and sharp. I throw my arms around him. “Court!”

He pats my shoulder. “I rented another SUV with a big dog package in the back so Matilda could go along safely.”

I pull back. Big, fat tears drip down my face. “Really?”

“I don’t know what a goat cheese operation needs, but it seems like it’s more than what you have in your knapsack.”

I nod. “You don’t have to.”

“You’re here a month. Might as well make the most of Matilda’s assets.” He finds the power button. “Ah, there.” The kettle kicks on, and the water temperature on the digital display instantly climbs.

“Okay!” I haven’t been to any farming event since…

Since Grandma BeeBee was alive.

“Oh, and I called that Natural Outfitter place.” He says this casually, as if he’s not about to drop a big ol’ bombshell. “They said they would open an hour early for us so you could pick out some more clothes. I promised a Pretty Woman level spend for their trouble.”

“Court!”

“I’ll finish breakfast. Get yourself ready to go.”

I hurry back to my room. I’m going to the Expo! And shopping!

Matilda watches me as I rush to turn on the shower. I kiss her head. “We get to go to the Expo! In new clothes!”

And admittedly, as the water runs down my face, I end up shedding a lot more tears, for BeeBee, for me, and for this strange, salty man who can sometimes be the kindest person I know.

22

COURT

Who knew cargo capris could be kinda hot?

Lucy twirls in a peachy-melon pair with a clingy white top that the sales lady has assured her will stretch and then revert to its previous shape with washing.

After seeing her in nothing but flowy dresses and an oversized T-shirt, watching her roll down the waistband of the cargos and tuck in the tight shirt is unexpectedly sexy. The heathery-textured top emphasizes the womanly shape of her breasts and belly.

When she asks me, “What do you think?” I’m unexpectedly tongue tied.

She frowns and crosses her hands over her stomach. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I should stick to dresses.”

I clear my throat. “No, no. It’s a great look. You’re showing off that baby.”

She turns back to the mirror. “It’s so comfortable. I’ve been awfully tired of dresses.”

“Get every color,” I tell her.

The sales assistant holds up a pink and green camouflage pattern.

“Except that one,” I add.

Lucy giggles. “I don’t think that camo will hide anyone anywhere.”

“It’s meant to be seen,” the woman says but switches it out for a traditional khaki pair.

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