Page 32 of Love, Lies and Lavender
Chester raised his nose as if smelling the air. Or maybe he was checking out Dane. His crooked yellow teeth gnawed on whatever was in its mouth.
“How do they get along with goats?” Dane asked.
“Fine as far as I know. They’re pretty docile animals,” said Fred. “But they can be wary of strangers. They show their annoyance by—”
Chester elicited a grumble deep in his chest. He cocked his head back a little more, keeping his eye on Dane. A collective intake of breath rose up from the crowd, including Hilary. She knew what was coming and was about to warn Dane to step back.
Too late.
Chester coughed, spraying Dane with foul-smelling hay and brown mucus.
Dane doubled over, swiping the stuff from his face and coat. Bits of straw clung to his hair. Hilary could smell it from where she stood. She couldn’t stop laughing.
“—spitting,” finished Fred. He pulled a rag from his back pocket. “Here.”
Dane screwed up his face, dry heaving. “It really smells.” His voice was muffled as he wiped the vile stuff from his face.
Fred clapped Dane on the back. “Told ya he was ornery.”
Jorie leaned into Hilary, chuckling. “I was about to warn him too. Some things you have to learn on your own though, right? We’re never getting a llama.”
She caught Dane’s eye and shook her head. Even coated with llama mucus, Dane winked at them. Beside her, Jorie huffed.
“He’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” Jorie said out of the corner of her mouth.
Hilary nodded, still smiling. He’d rubbed away the surface goo but it collected in his hair, stiffening into points.
“Almost like he was looking for attention. I mean, how can you not know llamas do that?” she joked as the group followed Fred and Elaine. They headed away from the paddock and toward one of the barns.
“Not everyone is proficient in reading camelid body language,” Hilary whispered back.
Jorie rolled her eyes but was silent.
The only white building among the five red outbuildings on the property was now a newly refurbished barn. Elaine used it as an art studio and the farm store. Inside, half the space was devoted to selling handmade sweaters, scarves, mittens, and other wool items. The store also sold stained glass ornaments, handmade cards, and other art pieces on consignment for artists along the North shore, Elaine said. The other half of the building housed Elaine’s looms. Giant twenty-pane windows let in an ample amount of light. Elaine hosted classes and retreats throughout the year.
While Jorie struck up a conversation with a woman and her husband about their apple farm near St. Louis, Hilary wandered around the store. She stopped near a wooden bowl filled with wool dryer balls. Little alpaca finger puppets were scattered on the counter around the bowl. She picked out two, fitting them onto her fingers.
“Souvenirs for your niece?”
Hilary turned toward Dane, thrilling at the sound of his voice. “Hattie would love these.”
He picked up a dryer ball, inspecting it. “I never would have guessed there were so many marketing opportunities with alpaca wool.”
“You don’t know much about llamas either, do you?” Hilary wrinkled her nose. “You smell like you went swimming in a manure pile.”
He feigned shock. “What, it doesn’t trigger romantic feelings?”
Hilary felt her face grow warm. She looked over at Jorie, but her sister-in-law was still deep in conversation. “I can’t say that it does,” she said matter-of-factly.
Dane set the ball back into the bowl. “I guess I’ll have to try something else then.”
She pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat. “You sure are accident prone,” she said, hoping to change the subject. She didn’t like flirting with Dane under Jorie’s watchful eye.
He leaned against the table, crossing his arms. The table skidded slightly from his considerable weight. His eyes bulged as he quickly stood upright. Hilary shook her head in disbelief, laughing.
“What can I say? It’s a special talent,” he said as he pulled the table back to its rightful place.
From across the room, Jorie left the Missouri couple and hurried over to her and Dane.
