Page 78 of Single Chance

“Nothing quite like potty training,” West agreed, shaking his head. “I’ve heard boys are easier.”

“Built-in target shooting,” Luke said. “Addie was pretty easy. Just had to bribe her with Skittles, and she was all over it.”

“I suspect Danny’s gonna be a project,” Max said. “His latest trick is stripping down naked and streaking around the house—or my mom’s house if he happens to be there.”

“Naked?” I asked. “Diaper and everything?”

“Diaper and everything.” Max laughed. “I haven’t found any good advice on parenting sites for this one.”

“Maybe potty training will be easy with him,” Knox said. “Could he be ready now? Just throw him on the toilet every time he gets naked?”

“He’s barely two, but it’s worth a try,” Max said, eyebrows raised.

“Juniper’s got a while before we start,” Knox said. “We’ve currently got our hands full with tantrums.”

“She’s not even two yet, is she?” I asked.

Knox shook his head. “She’ll be two in May.”

“You got a precocious one there,” West said.

Knox held up his bottle of Rusty Anchor. “I’m very afraid of my future.”

We all laughed—withhim, notathim. We each knew our time would come for all the “fun” stages. I’d always thought I was done with the infant and toddler ones and taunted these guys with teenage ones. The joke was on me apparently, though none of them knew it yet except for West.

I got up for more ribs and a handful of paper towels, knowing I needed to tell them my news but unsure how to start.

Someone’s phone rang.

“Hell,” Ben said as he wiped sauce off his hands. “I’d rather not have an emergency tonight.”

As the town vet, he’d had his evenings out interrupted plenty of times before.

“It’s Emerson,” he said when he saw the screen, relaxing and accepting the call. “Hey, Ems.”

I carried my plate back to the table where we were eating. Either we were all nosy or just busy stuffing our faces because no one except Ben spoke, allowing us to hear his conversation.

“What do you mean Esmerelda won’t let you into the stall?” he asked his wife.

Emerson was emphatic and emotional on the other end, loud enough we could get the idea there were llama shenanigans, even though we couldn’t quite understand her words.

“Just another day at the Holloway house,” Knox joked.

“You’re sure it’s not one of the barn cats?” Ben said into the phone.

“Only a couple dozen of those to keep track of,” Max said, grinning.

“It’s not Pixie, is it?… Ah. Right.” Ben stood and took several aimless steps away from the table. “Can you get Esmerelda out of her stall?”

“Things must be desperate if he thinks letting that llama out would be a good thing,” Max said.

The five of us not on the call cracked llama jokes and brought up some of Esmerelda’s previous stunts. Max had helped capture her multiple times and probably deserved some kind of honorary veterinary designation. Llama capture specialist?

“I have to go,” Ben said to us as he came back to the table. “As soon as I finish my beans and this last rib.” He sat back down and spooned in some beans as we waited.

“The escape artist llama won’t come out of her stall now?” Knox asked.

“It seems Esmerelda is adding protective services to her llama resume,” Ben said between bites. “A stray cat got into her stall and is curled up in the back corner. Emerson suspects the cat has an injured leg, but she can’t be sure, because Esmerelda won’t let anyone get close to the cat.”

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