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My friend taps a bright red manicured nail against her chin. “Now, let me see if I can lure Cocky Caveman to do more than like the posting on Instagram.” She focuses on her phone and gets to it.
Someone on Instagram calling himself “Cocky Caveman” has liked all the posts Gwen has put up during the week and added fun emojis. I guess it is Tucker, but I’m not one hundred percent positive because, according to Gwen, the Instagram page has no profile pictures or posts.
“Awww… Alice has liked and commented on our pretty clothes,” Gwen says, totally smitten by Tucker’s eldest sister. “She is such a sweet lady.”
My friend has taken over the job of loading images and writing each posting since Tucker left. I have stayed away from reading the comments. It is too tempting to respond. My bestie has not baited me to look until now. I gather she was waiting it out until I couldn’t help myself.
My phone is inside, recharging, away from temptation. It is a deliberate move on my behalf. Jensen and Hank are the only messages I have received today, so I figured I didn’t need my phone close by.
“Let me see what she wrote.” What I am really asking myself is: Did Alice show her brother, and did ‘Cocky Caveman’ like the posting?
Gwen holds her phone out of my reach unless I climb her. “You just want to see if your beau has popped up.”
I make apfftsound, as though she is talking BS. I promised myself not to stalk Alice’s Instagram page. One Christmas Day peek will be okay. I am at the point of throwing the towel in any way and posting and looking about on Instagram.
“Don’t ‘pfft’me. Admit it.” She unashamedly laughs, enjoying this moment too much.
So, Ipffther again and add an eye-roll because I can. Tucker’s not here to punish me for doing it.
The little red Ophelia on my right shoulder tells me to go for it, so I launch myself at her, body-hugging my bestie until she falls back parallel against the wooden firepit seating. I am sprawled messily on top of her, scrambling to claim her phone while she giggles and snorts at my shameless audacity.
Without getting off Gwen, I snatch it out of her hand and hurriedly tap out a reply on her phone.
Gwendoline/Me:See, Ophelia does wear dresses… well, almost. A skirt is close enough. Merry Christmas, Alaskan family xxx
I tell myself not to look again because it only makes me miss Tucker and his family more. Gwen can let me know if Cocky Caveman strikes again.
Gwen snatches her phone out of my grasp.
“Baaa…baaaa… baaaa!”
We turn our attention to the five goats climbing all over Pearl, who has laid herself down on the grass, patiently ignoring their shenanigans as her left ear twitches. I’m sure she enjoys the attention.
The boys and girls each have a festive Christmas neck bandana that brings out their cuteness ten-fold. I’ve grown attached to them all in the short time I’ve had them. I may have lost my parents, but I’m now building a different kind of family. These animals are a great source of comfort and will continue to be when Gwen returns to Australia. I can see why my cousin and Aubrey love Pixy so much and treat him like another child in their family. My Airbnb guests will love taking selfies with the Mini-Ms and Pearl.
Whenever the Mini-Ms are out of their corral, I have collars on them and leashes standing by to clip onto their collars until they get to know me much better and their boundaries, and I can train them to follow me where I need them to go. They are still getting used to their names, and I want them to feel comfortable, connect with the guests, be a part of goat yoga as soon as possible, and enjoy the freedom to run about for a few hours a day. Gwen and I have come a long way with the Mini-Ms in such a short time, but I need to get Jensen Peterson back to put a fence up so the goats can’t get past the house and down the driveway.
Gwen pokes me in the cheek. “Bestie, the Mighty MacDougalls are coming over. They have a surprise for you. They left a message on your phone, but you didn’t respond. They just texted me. The lads want you and me to meet Paisley, Wiley’s wife, an ex-nurse, who now works at the MacDougall Winery.”
Gwen’s phone vibrates. She reads the message, and her mouth drops open. Then she looks over her phone at me, snapping her mouth shut.
I want to snatch it from her. She anticipates the look in my eyes. “Don’t even think about it.” She stretches her arm out along the seat away from me.
“Crap-on-a-pumpkin-stick! You know what the surprise is, don’t you? And that is nice they want to introduce us to Wiley’s wife. But still, not fair, you know, and I don’t!”
“Oh, boy, this is likesoooextra.” Gwen is grinning like she is about to burst and waving her arm about. “Now I am told to warn you not to make an arse of yourself when you get the surprise because you are going to get filmed for reasons that should not get named.”
“What the hell, Gwendoline!”
Realizing I am still lying on her, I get to my feet.
She sits up, still grinning. “Oh, and you better finish up eating. The brothers might be on their way over here right now. Chance and Aubrey are also sending a gift or two with them. So, knock yourself out with enthusiasm because—”
“Yeah-yeah, I know, they are going to film my response.”What is going on?I try not to feel ill about performing for the camera. A pang of guilt hits me. “I don’t have gifts for the MacDougall brothers.” There is no time to even think about finding something for them all.
Ihatesurprises, and Gwen knows this about me. I feel awkward and don’t know what to do with myself. But if the MacDougalls and my cousin are behind them, then they can’t be bad surprises.
There is a rumble of motorbikes and a heavy vehicle drawing closer.
