Page 13 of A Fine Line
“Well, then come back tomorrow night. Maybe we can steal an old recipe from Margaret next door?”
I paused mid- falling out of my chair. “What did you say?”
“Margaret…next door? You know, owns the parrots? Makes really great key lime pie? Her mother was a baker way back when-”
“No, no.” I groaned, gah, could she not keep up? “Not Margaret. What did you say before that?”
“Oh, well, she’s quite old now but you could ask her to make something, taste test it and then replicate it in your own way?”
Taste test…replicate.
My mind rushed back to Winnie this morning, trying her hardest to conjure some entree out of watching me cook. A slow smirk pulled at my lips.
“That’s a great idea, Mom, thanks.” I stood all the way, gave her a quick hug and peck to the hairline, before grabbing my keys and heading to the back door.
“So…do you need me to call Margaret.”
I shook my head and yelled over my shoulder as the door closed behind me. “No need.”
I had someone much better than Margaret, a girl I owed some revenge on.
“Okay, okay, show me Crate and Barrel and then I’m done, I swear.”
“Winnie, you promise?”
“I promise, just them…and Milk.”
“Milks been dead for three years.”
“God rest his soul, little goat Milk.”
Lottie choked a laugh on my screen where I had us Face timing before I opened up the roll up window of my truck. “Winnieee…come on, I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Okay, fine. Just Crate and Barrel. That’s it.”
Typically I tried my best to refrain from seeing anything on the farm. I avoided pictures, social media- which was a waste land for me anyway, and never asked my family for more than the plain ‘How’s everyone doing?’ It was easier that way, so I wasn’t constantly reminded of what I left behind.
But now that I was going to do my best to make it back home, now that I actually had a shot, I planned to be Face timing every single one of my family members and forcing them to show me updates on the place I would soon call home again.
Lottie turned her camera around, her voice dripped of sweet southern charm that I desperately missed up here. “Crate! Barrel!” She called out to our two Watusi cows.
Before I left, her parents bought them and put them in the center field, not too far off from the main house. We were obsessed with Crate and Barrel, the store- not the cows, and considering we didn’t have one anywhere near us, we took our love and transformed it into those beautiful calf’s. At night we’d climb to the highest loft and look out at the field where you could make out the large, curved horns in the distance. Then there was our beloved goat, Milk. Who we named Milk because our Nana would tell us to go ‘milk the goat’. It stuck pretty easily.
Sure enough, two big bulls came around the corner, sniffing Lottie and waiting for some food, considering she still fed them for me while I was away. They technically were all hers, but she insisted I ‘keep’ one. She claimed it would bring me back home one day, I guess in a way it was.
“Look how big you two are!” I squealed. “What handsome boys, my goodness.”
“Smart too, they’ve been getting bigger and better daily I swear. Although we run out of food easier too, they eat more than the entire left field combined.”
I snorted a laugh, imagining my cousin Knox in front of the field behind his house, yelling at the cows that he ‘had to save enough for the Watusi’s.’
“I can’t wait to see them in person.”
“I can’t wait to see you in person.” Lottie smiled as she turned the camera back to herself. “It’s been too long.”
“Way too long,” I agreed. “But I had to make sure I had everything…wrapped up before coming back.” My life toss up years ago had taken this long to truly come back to somewhat normal enough for me to feel open to even calling.
She lifted a hand in defense. “I’m not blaming you, you know I don’t care as long as Marshall is out and Winnie is in.”