by Judy Clemens
She was smiling now. “My official duties started as soon as the kids got checked in, and you won’t believe how many people think their precious animals are already on the brink of death. Or are at risk of contracting something from the animal next door.” She took a bite of her double cheeseburger. She would somehow get through the sandwich, fries, milkshake, and piece of pie, and still be ready for a funnel cake. The woman could really pack it away, sort of like Jethro, Zach’s dad. Sometimes I thought Carla was actually a teenage boy disguised as a nicely-rounded thirty-something veterinarian.
“Bryan with you?” Carla’s boyfriend.
“Nope, has to work today. Sorry to disappoint you. I know how you love him.”
“Hey, it’s been better, hasn’t it?”
She grinned. “Sure. You’ve been very gentle with him. But you do realize he’s still afraid of you.”
Bryan and I had gotten off to a rough start. I hadn’t known about him at all until Carla was in an accident and he and I met up at the hospital. He was a complete stranger to me, and I’d made the mistake of accusing him of murdering several women earlier that summer. Not my proudest moment, but I loved Carla, and I didn’t want her hurt. So sue me.
“That’s okay,” Nick said. “I’m scared of her, too.”
I kicked him under the table, reminding myself of my still tender foot.
He grabbed his leg, making an exaggerated face of pain. “See what I have to put up with?”
Carla laughed. “Oh, you two, you are just so—” Her phone rang, and she sighed, putting it up to her ear. “Dr. Beaumont. Yes. Oh, is that so? I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be over to check just as soon as…” She glanced at her hamburger. “As soon as I’m finished with this cow. All right?” She hung up.
“Really?” I said. “You still consider that burger a cow?”
“I didn’t say the cow I was with was still living.” She took her time eating it, and the three of us chatted, talking about the fair food and events we were looking forward to.
“There’s the man of the hour,” Carla said.
Zach had entered the food tent with Randy, Bobby, and Claire. The three boys sauntered up front, laughing at something. Claire followed quietly, her eyes scanning the menu posted above the counter.
“Quite the crowd,” Carla said, shaking her head. “Hate to see what all they’ll get up to this week.”
I took a sip of Pepsi. “They’re all right. Besides, if Zach does something stupid, I’ll kill him.”
“Good to know. In case he shows up dead.”
She crumpled her napkin and tossed it onto her tray. “Guess I’d better go soothe the crazed parents before they contact the fair board. Because you know the one time I dismiss a complaint will be the exact moment a cow dies of a highly communicable disease, and I’ll be drummed out of Pennsylvania to become a lowly milkmaid.” She brightened. “But then, I love milk. And ice cream. And cheese. Maybe that would turn out just fine.” She winked at Nick, and left, going by way of Zach and his buddies, who took a moment off from laughing to say hello. She bumped Zach with her ample hip, and was gone.
“What are you grinning about?” I said to Nick.
“Her. She’s something.”
No argument from me.
“These seats saved?” Zach plopped down beside me and took a huge bite of a donut.
“Nice lunch for a growing boy.”
“Tastes good. Besides, I have these.” Cheese fries. Much better.
The rest of the kids filled out the table, Claire ending up on the far corner, catty-cornered from Zach. She kept her eyes on her plate.
“How’s Barnabas?” I asked.
“Perfect.” He spoke around the pastry. “He made friends with Austin’s calf by peeing so close to the side of the stall it splashed into his.”
Randy and Bobby laughed. Claire didn’t. I was fairly certain Austin hadn’t, either, but then, excrement was one of the by-products of having 4-H animals, so to speak.
“Hello, everybody.”
The laughter stopped, but the boys’ mouths stayed open. I think my jaw dropped, too. Nick was the only one who didn’t respond, because she was standing directly behind him. “She” being a teenage girl who, well, wasn’t exactly what our teenage boys were used to seeing. Her bleached blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy knot, her teeth were whiter than a snowstorm, and her boobs were so large they were almost knocking into Nick’s head—or maybe they were, from the look he was giving me. If he so much as turned an inch she’d poke his eye out. Across that ample—or should I say outrageously ginormous—chest was a banner proclaiming her to be a contestant in the Lovely Miss Pageant.
“My name’s Summer,” she said, batting eyelashes as big as garden spiders. Along with the batting came the pout of the puffy lips. They couldn’t possibly be natural. “I’m going to be competing in the Lovely Miss Pennsylvania pageant Wednesday afternoon. I hope you’ll come.”
Claire, the only one apparently not frozen in shock—or horror—gave a tight smile. “Sorry, we’ll be too busy.”
“Aaaaah, I don’t know,” Randy said. “I might be able to find the time.”
Bobby nodded, smiling like an idiot.
“And how about you?” The teenage Botox factory turned those way-too-baby blues on Zach, and I felt him flinch.
“Uh…maybe.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed, and she looked back down at the table.
Summer gave me a passing glance, then fixed her gaze on the back of Nick’s head. She moved to the side, managing to avoid a boob collision with Nick or anything else, and swiveled to look at him. Her eyes widened, and her smile grew. Not an unusual reaction for any female confronted with Nick’s gorgeousness, but something about this particular girl made my stomach turn.
“How about you?” she purred.
If she so much as reached toward him I would break her arm.
Nick held very still, then leaned Randy’s way as he looked up at the girl, toward her face, although I’m not sure he could actually see past the mountains blocking the way. “Sorry. Beauty pageants aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh, it’s so much more than that. It’s about talent, and commitment to the world, and the environment…and also beauty.” There went those hideous eyelashes, fluttering away, like aliens flying back to the home world. I considered asking if she had something in her eye, but decided I’d rather not speak directly to her.
“Still,” Nick smiled casually, “I have other things on my schedule.”
“Are you sure?” She leaned in a little closer. I recalled the CPR class I’d had ages ago, hoping I still had the skills, in case she suffocated him with her chest.
“Yes, I’m very sure. My fiancée and I—” he gestured toward me “—will be busy.”
She wrenched her eyes from his godlike face and gaped at me. “Your fiancée?”
By some miracle I didn’t lunge across the table and strangle her. But then, I probably would have bounced off that silicone armor.
“Summer? There you are.” A woman, plucked and dyed and pressed and just as real as Summer scurried up, checking her watch. “We have a schedule, you know.”
Summer pouted, her lips protruding grotesquely, like she’d been hit in the mouth one too many times. “Mooom, I’m making new friends. Inviting them to the pageant.”
“You need to let me know where you are—”
“I invited him.” She pointed at Nick, and her mother’s face went slack. Well, it sort of did. It would have been more impressive, I was sure, if her face-lift hadn’t stretched her skin so tightly she would crack if the wind hit her wrong.
“Oh, my yes,” she oozed. “You certainly are very welcome to attend the event.”
“As I told your daughter,” Nick said, somehow keeping his composure, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“But you must come! What could keep you away from such a delightful display of young women?”
Nick’s eyes
flashed. Not with anger, or even disgust, I didn’t think, but with humor. If he hadn’t been such a kind, generous person, he would have laughed in her face.
I had no such issues. I sounded like a donkey choking on a bone. Except donkeys don’t eat bones.
“Mom,” Summer whined. “She’s his fiancée.”
The woman stared at me. If she would have been capable, I’m sure she would have shown horror. Or at least distaste. But seeing how her face was basically molded plastic, all she presented was blandness.
Nick kept his own face pleasant. Summer’s expression went through several changes before stopping on her own variation of pleasantness, which was actually quite frightening. After a year, she twitched her shoulders, which about brought down the tent from the vibrations. “Well…five o’clock Wednesday. I hope to see you all there. Come on, Mom.” She gave Nick a finger waggle, and rolled away.
Her mother blinked several times, then hurried after her daughter.
The silence they left in their wake was deafening. Until Nick snorted. And then I snorted. And then the guys’ jaws snapped shut.
Claire was the only quiet one, since rolling her eyes didn’t make any noise.
Chapter Five
“So what was that all about?” Nick took my hand as we walked back toward the calf barn.
“I think you know.”
“Yeah. Teenage hormones.”
“I think it was your hormones she was after.” I bumped him sideways. “Not that I was worried.”
“I should hope not. I like my women—emphasis on women, as in, not girls—one hundred percent real.” He held up my hand and rubbed his finger on the tattooed engagement ring my buddy Rusty Oldham had inked there a month before. “And I haven’t ever seen one thing about you that wasn’t.” He kissed the back of my hand.
I pulled him toward the dairy barn, separate from where Zach had Barnabas, to see if any of our friends were there. Bobby and Claire had brought animals from their parents’ herd, so we could at least check them out.
We walked into the barn, and were greeted by the warm, musky scent of cows and everything that goes with them. I breathed in deeply. “Home, sweet home.”
We wandered down the aisles, stepping out of the way of arriving kids and their cows, admiring the different breeds and the high quality of the livestock. Lots of lovely ladies with long, straight bones, wide, feminine faces, and bright eyes. They weren’t yet as cleaned and trimmed as they would be, since they were just moving in, but it was easy to see at a glance that I wasn’t, actually, at home. I had nice cows, but finding a herd where every single one was in this kind of shape would be impossible. Or really, really expensive.
“Hey, here’s Claire’s.” We stopped at the corner stall to admire the young Guernsey. She was gorgeous. A lovely fawn color, with clearly defined white markings. Long, curled eyelashes. Deep brown eyes. I read Claire’s signs. “Her name’s September Breeze.”
“It would be easy to fall in love with her,” Nick said. “You think I could I pet her?”
“Sure.” Claire had come up beside us so quietly I hadn’t heard her. She leaned on the stall. “Breezy loves attention. And people love to give it to her.”
I don’t think I was imagining the irony in her words. Poor Claire. Nice and sturdy, like her cow. But not stunning. Or even shocking, like the showstopper we’d just seen in the food tent.
Nick ran his hand down the cow’s broad face, and leaned in to murmur sweet nothings I thought I should be the only one to receive. But then, I figured I could share with a four-legged female.
“You done eating already?” I asked Claire.
“Wasn’t really hungry.”
Yeah, I wasn’t either after that hideous display.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, meaning Claire’s cow.
“Thanks. Bobby’s is nice, too, but she can’t compete with Breezy.”
Bobby’s Guernsey hung out in the next stall, looking about as excited as a half-asleep cow can. She was nice, for sure. But she really couldn’t hold a candle to the cow right in front of me. I wondered how it was that Claire ended up with the prettier of the pair.
“Check this out, Stella.” Claire pointed toward the animal’s rear, and I stepped to the side so I could see.
September Breeze had lovely long bones, straight legs, a strong back…and an udder she wielded like a trophy.
“Wow.” I went around the corner and squatted to peer through the slats of the stall. The udder was just how you’d want it. Smooth, evenly rounded teats, the udder nice and high—above her hocks, or where the legs bend—a deep udder cleft, which means a nice separation between the two sides. Couldn’t get much more ideal than what she’d been born with. “And just think,” I said as I stood up, knees cracking. “She’s one hundred percent real.”
Claire’s scowl held for a few moments longer, until a grin finally broke through. “And she won’t try to stick them in anyone’s face.”
“Boob faker,” I said.
Nick glanced up from his love fest with the cow. “Hey, now.”
“Hey, now, what? If that girl’s going to go around threatening people with her Double Es, she’s going to have to be prepared for a little ribbing. Not that she could find her ribs under all that.”
Claire burst out laughing. Nick shook his head, apparently not appreciating the “annoyed female” humor.
“Wait.” Nick focused across the room. “Isn’t that those people again?”
Claire and I followed his gaze. “The Greggs,” she muttered.
I squinted, like that could help me see better all the way to the other side of the barn. “Can’t imagine anything they bought—I mean brought—is as gorgeous as September Breeze.”
Claire’s nose wrinkled. “I hope you’re right.”
“At least you raised yours on your own. That’s got to count for something.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough.”
I slapped Nick’s rear. “Come on. If you can tear yourself away from your new girlfriend there, I’d like to check out the Greggs and their cows up close.”
He gave Breezy one last ear rub and promised to return. Claire and I exchanged an amused glance. “See you later,” I said. “Good luck.”
Nick and I made our way toward the Greggs’ stalls, pausing now and then to admire the bone structure or coloring or “sweet, honey eyes”—Nick’s words—of the beauties lined up along the row. Kids of various ages mucked out the stalls or applied maintenance to their fences or animals, and I greeted several I knew by name. The older girls, whether we greeted them or not, took a break to watch Nick walk by. Even steadfast devotion to their animals couldn’t keep them from admiring the prime exhibit parading past their stalls. Since they were teenagers, and no threat to me, I let them enjoy the view without contemplating the chances of their survival.
“Stella?”
I turned away from a grand specimen of an Ayrshire cow to see a woman I knew from dairy circles, but hadn’t seen in a while. Claire and Bobby’s mother, Amy Kaufmann. She had the same looks as Claire—Pleasant. Brown. Sturdy. “Amy. How ya doin’?”
“Doing great. You?”
“The same. This is Nick. My fiancé.”
Amy shook his hand. I was impressed that her pupils didn’t dilate. “I heard someone finally snagged Stella here. Good luck to you.”
I frowned. “Hey.”
Nick put his arm around my shoulders. “She’ll need as much luck as I will. Believe me.” I could hear the seriousness underneath his banter. His illness. It never quite left his mind, even if he seemed as healthy as ever. I nudged him, letting him know I was on his side.
Amy looked over my shoulder at the Ayrshire. “Nice girl, there.”
“Yeah.” I lowered my voice. “Not as nice as Claire’s, though.”
She took my elbow and led me down the row in the direction we’d been headed. “I know, right? I’m not sure how we lucked out with Breezy. She is a beauty, isn’t she? Poor Bo
bby’s cow is nice, but she really can’t compare to Claire’s.”