I go back to the shelves to find a few more books to take with me. Nights are incredibly boring at the Dusty Rose Motel. The TV only gets about twelve channels, most of which seem to be infomercials or local news from Bakersfield. I've tried watching movies on my laptop but the wifi is so bad I've mostly been staring at the buffering wheel.
Five books should get me through the week, maybe six. Back at the LGBTQ+ romance shelf, I pick out three more — one about a chef and a food critic which sounds like it has good tension, one set on a vineyard, and one about two women who hate each other and are forced to work together, which feels totally relevant.
Then the self-help section catches my eye. Not the "Manifest Love" kind — I'm done with that nonsense. But there's a book called "Starting Over: Finding Purpose When Your Plan Falls Apart" that I pick up and read the first page of and immediately feel personally attacked by. And next to it, one called "The Year I Said Yes" about a woman who quit her corporate job and rebuilt her life from scratch. The back cover has a quote that says "Sometimes losing everything is the first step to finding what matters." I'd normally pass these without a glance. My plan before Duster was Tyler and brunches and looking good. But that plan drove into a pig barn at one in the morning so maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.
Six books, all free. It's amazing what you discover when you start doing things normal people do. Free books, cheap coffees, and the simple pleasure of reading in an armchair. The library was a great suggestion.
My stomach is grumbling — I haven't eaten anything today. The bus isn't until 4:15, which gives me two hours at a Mexican restaurant that a month ago I wouldn't have looked twice at. Funny how a week of diner food and Monterey Jack can recalibrate your standards.
20
MAGGIE
Sloane drops the end of the hose into the pool and walks back to the tap. The handle's stiff and she has to use both hands to turn it. Everyone in Duster is watering something on a morning like this and the pressure out here in July is a joke. It'll take an hour to fill, maybe longer.
The pool is four feet across and two feet deep, hard blue plastic. I found it yesterday in the back of the feed store when I was clearing space. Mom bought it five years ago for a pig who'd come in from a factory farm in bad shape and was struggling in the heat. The rim was a bit too high so he used it twice and then forgot about it, and it's been stacked against the wall ever since. Nothing in a sanctuary gets thrown away. You always end up needing it eventually.
Sloane walks back, wiping her hands on her shorts. Which aren't shorts, exactly. They're hot pants. Her top is cropped, sitting a few inches above the waistband. She's tanned after a week outside and she looks annoyingly good.
"You're not in your cocktail dress today," I joke. "Did you go shopping?"
"No." Sloane chuckles as she rolls the lip of the hose over the side of the pool so it doesn't jump out. "Our housekeeper drove them over on Friday. Well — my parents' housekeeper. Irina. She's got a daughter and she lent me some of her things to wear." She straightens up and pushes her hair off her face. "I hope it's not inappropriate."
"I'll let you know if the goats decide to file a complaint," I say with a grin. "So you have more practical clothes now?"
"Yeah. Irina turned up at the motel with a suitcase and a cooler full of sushi and a bottle of Chablis. She drove four hours to check on me, and my dad doesn't even know she came. It was so sweet."
I glance up. Sloane's looking at the water going into the pool, not at me. She blinks a few times. "I just — I really needed to see a familiar face, you know? It was a good start to the weekend."
"How sweet. So it wasn't too bad staying in Duster?"
"It was okay. On Saturday I got the bus to Cawley," she continues. "Had lunch at the Mexican place. Got some books out of the library."
"Good books?"
She bites her lip and a little color comes up under the tan on her cheeks. "Yeah," she says. "I enjoyed them." She bends and adjusts the hose in the pool again, even though it's fine where it is.
There's something odd about our exchange, which takes me a moment to place. It's that there's actually nothing odd about it. It's the kind of easy back-and-forth I'd have with my volunteers on any given morning. Not something I ever pictured having with Sloane Archer.
"What did you do?" she asks. "Other than working. Anything nice?"
"Mom came by on Saturday. She'd only got back from Portland the night before but she still insisted on making acasserole. It's a compulsion with her. She's not happy unless she's feeding someone. You'll try her casseroles one of these days."
"I'm probably not her first pick of dinner guest," Sloane says.
"She'll come around. I told her you've been pulling your weight." I glance up at the sun, then at my watch. "Come with me to the feed store, we need to clear some space."
Sloane follows me out of the paddock gate and around the side of the barn. From the shed on the other side of the yard comes the sound of a chainsaw. I glance over without stopping. Dale, one of my handyman volunteers, has the door off its hinges, leaning against the outside wall of the shed, with a pencil between his teeth.
"And then on Saturday evening I had dinner at a friend's house," I say. "I didn't realize it was going to be a double date kind of situation. She tried to set me up with someone and I hate it when she does that unannounced."
"Did it work?"
"Absolutely not."
Sloane laughs. "Who was she trying to set you up with?"
"The new vet in Visalia. She's nice enough but not for me."
