Page 81 of Salty Pickle

“Exceptional,” Court says. “We’ll need six pounds of that.”

I turn away from him, almost sad the spell is broken. “You won’t be able to roll us out of your apartment if we eat all that.”

“Apartment?” the woman asks. “Where do you put your goat?”

This shifts the mood again. Court and I glance at each other conspiratorially and try not to laugh.

“We’ll take a half-pound of the caramel fudge and a half-pound of plain chocolate,” I tell her.

“Sounds good for me,” Court says. “What are you getting for yourself?”

I giggle again. “Okay, add a half-pound of the s’mores fudge.”

“There’s s’mores fudge?” Court’s eyes light up.

I feed him a taster. He groans. “Make it a pound.”

The woman happily cuts, weighs, and wraps the three rectangles. “Here you go.”

I tuck them in another bag and check on Matilda as Court takes the credit card from me to pay. She’s found a bush near the end of her tether and is happily munching.

“We can look at a few booths together,” I tell Court. “Matilda is occupied and in easy sight distance.”

“All right, then.” He takes my arm and tucks it in the crook of his elbow, like we’re walking through a county fair in a movie starring Judy Garland or Dick Van Dyke.

It’s magical and lovely, and I refuse to feel any concern about what it does or doesn’t mean.

Or how my heart catches.

24

COURT

The day feels short. We fill up Lucy’s four bags and go back to buy two more.

She gets more starter culture for her goat cheese and two types of seasonings to expand her offerings.

We find a hand-painted milking stool that makes her smile, so I buy that, too.

By the time we get back to the SUV, everyone is tired, even the goat.

The sky is darkening as we head toward the highway.

“I know we just ate our way through all those booths, but I could use a milkshake,” Lucy says.

“Your wish is my command,” I say, punching the restaurant button on the map app built into the SUV. “There’s a Checkers ahead.”

“What’s Checkers?” She rests her head on the back of her seat.

“Fast food burgers and shakes.”

“Sounds perfect. Fast-food places have the best shakes.”

“Not worried about chemicals?”

“Some days you need a little artificial flavor.”

I swing into the drive through. “Chocolate? Vanilla? Strawberry?”

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