by Wendy Tyson
Megan agreed. She chewed on her bottom lip, considering the animal’s situation. Who rents a unit and puts a well-cared for pot-bellied pig inside? Was she someone’s pet? Was she staying there temporarily before being sold to someone else?
And that name: Saul Bones. A sense of humor—or something more ominous?
Bibi, Megan’s grandmother, also known as Bonnie Birch to the rest of the world, fell instantly in love with Camilla. She’d never admit it, of course, but after Clay created a pen for the pig inside the old section of the massive stone barn, Bibi took to feeding her personally. She collected kitchen scraps and watched contentedly as Camilla snorted and gulped her way through salad greens, root vegetables, and apples, a treat Bibi used to feed the pigs she and her husband raised years ago.
“She’ll be just fine,” Bibi said, scratching the course skin behind Camilla’s ears. Camilla leaned into the touch, her eyes half-mast. “Good girl,” Bibi crooned. To Megan, Bibi said, “She’s not an eating pig.”
Megan said, “Looks like she’s eating just fine.”
Bibi scowled. “You know what I mean. Camilla here isn’t livestock.”
“I know, Bibi. We wouldn’t do that even if she were.”
“Well, she’s not. She’s like no pig I’ve ever seen.”
Megan smiled. Beyond the barn, Megan could hear the whirl and pounding of the construction crew next door. Megan spoke louder over the din. “She’s a Vietnamese potbellied pig. I only know that because Denver told me.”
Bibi leaned down to look into Camilla’s eyes. The day was quickly warming, but the interior of the old barn was cool and slightly damp. The pig seemed to like the feel of the floor, cold dampness and all. She sprawled on her side, gazing up at Bibi with what looked to Megan like adoration.
“Whoever had her took good care.” Bibi squatted down and rubbed Camilla’s neck. Bibi wore a white “Winter in Winsome” t-shirt, and the pig lifted her head and rubbed it against Bibi’s side, smearing dirt along the edge of the pristine cotton. Bibi didn’t seem to notice. “She’s a fine pig,” Bibi said softly.
Megan, trying to hide her growing amusement, watched her grandmother. Bibi wasn’t one for outward shows of affection, and this was as close as she came to doting on an animal. Megan had to admit: even with her underbite and noisy table manners, Camilla was pretty adorable.
“Don’t you need to be somewhere?” Bibi asked. “I don’t think you have time to stand around laughing at me and this pig.”
Megan’s grin widened. “I’m not laughing at you.”
Bibi stood. With a final glance at Camilla, she turned toward Megan. “They’re all God’s creatures. I’m just tending to an animal in need.” She broke out into a smile, and it took years off her eighty-five-year-old face. “She is really cute.”
“That she is.” As though on cue, Camilla looked up at them, let out a snort, and, with a flop and the pig version of a sigh, extended her body out on the cool dirt. Laughing, Megan glanced at her watch. “I need to meet Denver at the restaurant in forty-five minutes.” She looked down at her jeans and sneakers. “I can’t exactly go like this.”
“This is the dinner with his college friends?”
Megan nodded. “Fraternity brothers from Colorado State. Jatin, Xavier, and Chase. The guys and two women are in the area for a charity event.”
Bibi shot Megan a questioning look. “What kind of charity?”
“There’s a local school for kids with behavioral and emotional issues. Denver said these guys all work for the same company, and the company is sponsoring a mentoring camping trip.” Megan shrugged. “Because they were in town, they called Denver and asked to get together. He invited me. I’m just not in the mood.”
“Get in the mood.” Bibi motioned toward the door. “Go get fixed up and have a good time. You deserve a social life.”
Megan kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “I guess it will be fun to see another side of Denver. I’ve never met anyone from his past other than his aunt.”
“You can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep.” Bibi squeezed Megan’s arm. “Go. Have fun. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”
Two
Basil was an Italian restaurant tucked into a strip mall on Route 611, not far from Doylestown. Its interior was awash in beige: beige plaster walls, beige tablecloths, beige linens, beige-stained maple floors. But despite the bland location and décor, the food was excellent, which was why Denver had chosen it as the reunion spot.
Megan arrived a few minutes late. A young hostess led her toward the back of the restaurant, to a semi-private room from which laughter was erupting. The hostess turned toward Megan to indicate that she’d arrived at her dinner party, but she couldn’t hide her eyeroll when another bray of laughter rang out. Megan interpreted this to mean Denver’s friends were an outgoing crowd, maybe a little too loud for this establishment.
“Enjoy,” the hostess said.
Megan thanked her. Social gatherings were never easy, and meeting a group of college friends was no exception. Despite working with the public at the café and farmers markets, and years of practicing law before that, she wasn’t particularly extroverted, and walking into a party that was already underway lived between root canal and scrubbing toilets on her favorites list. Despite her angst, Megan pulled her shoulders back, took a fortifying breath, and searched the long table for Denver’s face. When he saw Megan, his face lit up. He stood and squeezed his way around the table toward her.
A hush fell over the table except for the source of the loudest laughter. The man on the other side of where Denver had been sitting was talking to the slender brunette next to him. A shock of dark, straight hair hung in his face. He had a chiseled chin, and hawkish brown eyes that stayed affixed to the brunette with a hungry, almost leering stare. At first glance, he seemed handsome in a Hollywood sort of way, but as Megan watched him carry on, his features became more vulgar, his mannerisms seemed aggressive. He paused, and the brunette glanced at Megan. She smiled.
“Friends, I would like to introduce my special friend,” Denver smiled at Megan, “or, if I may be so bold, girlfriend, Megan Sawyer. Megan is a farmer and a businesswoman. She’s quite good with an ax and a shovel, so I would be careful to remain on her good side.”
Laughter from around the table. The dark-haired man kept talking.
“Chase, you’re quickly earning yourself a place at the head of her hit list.” Denver kept his voice light, but Megan heard the underlying steely tone.
The brunette shot out a bony elbow, and the dark-haired man stopped talking.
Denver continued. “The rude man across the table is Dr. Charles ‘Chase’ Mars. Pharmacologist and now VP of Strategic Interface for BOLD Pharmaceuticals, with ‘bold’ obnoxiously spelled in all caps.” Chase nodded. “The woman next to him is Dr. Barbara Little, Chase’s boss and our former favorite party crasher.”
Denver turned toward the other end of the table. An elegant dark-skinned man in a red Polo shirt sat staring at Megan with a mix of curiosity and practiced nonchalance. Denver said, “Jatin Patel. Former fraternity brother and now VIP at BOLD.” Jatin smiled and nodded. He had warm, cocoa-brown eyes, and they seemed to study Megan with an intelligent detachment she found unsettling.
Jatin said quietly, “Unfortunately, our friend Xavier Jones couldn’t be here. He wasn’t feeling well.”
Megan said, “Nice to meet all of you. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it.”
Next to Jatin sat a woman Denver didn’t introduce. Seeming to recognize his oversight, Denver cleared his throat. “And of course, Martine Pringle. PR Director for BOLD.”
“Wonderful to meet you,” Martine said. She was fine-boned, and tight-lipped with high cheekbones accentuated by a severe bun. Her dark eyebrows clashed with ash-blonde hair. “And nice to see you again, Denver.”
Denver nodded. More si
lence, this one awkward. Denver pulled out a seat for Megan before reclaiming his own spot next to her. He waved to the waiter, who brought Megan an iced tea, a menu, and a small plate of herbed focaccia.
“Does everyone from the fraternity work at BOLD?” Megan asked to no one in particular.
It was Barbara who responded. “Sure feels that way. Chase and I were some of the company’s first employees. We brought Xavier and Jatin on. We tried to entice Denver to join us, but his love of animals was too strong.”
Megan swallowed a piece of bread and said, “Are you all in the same department?”
Barbara shook her head. “No, no. Chase and I are on the development side—the science end of things. Xavier is investor relations, and Jatin is finance.”
Megan noticed that once again Martine was left out. “And you,” Megan said, trying to pull the quiet woman into the conversation. “I guess as the public relations person, you’re in a different group?”
Martine shook her head. “Corporate.” With a sideways glance at Denver, she said, “I’m here to capture the weekend on film. It’s good press.”
Chase said, without a hint of irony, “What good is a charity event if you can’t capitalize on it?”
Another elbow from Barbara. “The trip was my boss’s idea. Pioneer Village School helped Harriet’s daughter. She thought we could give back by coordinating a mentoring event. Hook up troubled kids with members of the corporate world. Give them the chance to learn, ask questions. Maybe even consider a career in STEM.”
“Science, technology, engineering, math,” Jatin said to Megan.
Megan caught Denver’s smirk behind his beer stein.
Megan said, “Thank you. I know what STEM means.”
“Yes, well. The big boss charged Barbie here with rounding up volunteers.” Chase pushed back from the table. “Guess who got stuck with the job?” He fluttered the fingers on his large hands. “People who owed her.”
“You mean my friends?” Barbara’s laugh sounded brittle. “Anyway, we’re each paired with a student at the school. We’ll do a hike-in-and-camp at Lyle Lake State Park along with a few staff from the school, and hopefully we can keep in touch with our charges after the long weekend is over. We’re planning future trips—career fairs, internships. Harriet even created a scholarship fund to help student alumnus who complete this program and have no funds to go to college. She’s serious about this. Especially about attracting more girls to STEM vocations.”
“And these kids are special,” Jatin said quietly. “They have emotional and behavioral issues that don’t allow them to fit in easily, so the exposure will be good for them.”
Megan was impressed. Giving kids a chance to better their lives? A pretty generous endeavor for a corporation—if there was proper planning and follow-through. She looked around this table. She had her doubts. This group didn’t seem like the altruistic sorts, but to be fair, she’d only just met them.
When the waiter showed up to take their orders, Megan whispered to Denver, “Pioneer Village School. Isn’t that where your aunt’s foster son goes?”
“Dillon? Yes. In fact, he’s going on the trip.” Denver shot Megan the amused half-smile she loved: blue eyes crinkled, mouth slightly upturned. Knowingly amused. “Wondering which of these delightful beauties he’ll get as his mentor?”
“Kind of.”
The waiter returned with appetizers. He placed a beautiful mezze plate, a platter of beef carpaccio, and fried calamari on the center of the table before walking away again.
Reaching for the beef dish, Chase said, “So, a farmer, huh? As in overalls and cows?”
“As in organic vegetables and cut flowers.”
“Organic? Sounds like a shitty way to make a living.” He laughed at his own pun. No one else did. Scraping half the appetizer onto his own plate, he said, “Seriously, how do you make ends meet? I’ve heard farming these days is a losing proposition. You can’t make money on vegetables. Animal production is where it’s at. Large scale.” He stuffed a forkful of raw steak into his mouth and looked around the table for confirmation. “What do they call it? Factory farming.”
Everyone was looking down at their plate. Everyone except Martine, whose stare was firmly on Denver. Megan turned toward her boyfriend. His focus was on Chase, who he was watching with a mixture of amusement and disgust, seemingly unaware of Martine’s attention.
Megan leaned forward, baiting Chase. Casually, she said, “Have you done any reading about the impact of industrial agriculture—on the workers, the environment, or the animals?”
He shoveled in another forkful. “Is eating research? If so, I’ve done plenty of research.” He grinned. An elbow shot out and tapped Barbara’s side. She ignored him. “Lighten up. I’m just messing with you.”
“Chase has a long history of messing with people,” Barbara said. “He wasn’t always the serious scientist.”
“In fact, he should write a book.” Martine’s voice rang out in the silence that ensued. “About his time with The Rolling Stones.”
“The Rolling Stones?” Megan said. “Really.”
“Really. You don’t believe it?” Chase eyed her sideways.”
“I’m not so sure I believe it.” Megan spooned calamari on her plate, working hard to maintain a poker face. She’d never been good at poker—and there was a reason.
“Chase was quite the musician in his day,” Martine continued. Her voice had taken on a low, gravely tone. “Played the guitar for the Stones.”
This time Chase had the decency to blush. “I was back-up to back-up. For two nights.”
“In Los Angeles,” Martine said, as though that made it more significant.
Megan glanced at the blonde. Was she PR for the company—or for Chase?
“That’s great,” Megan said. “I had no idea.”
“Clearly you haven’t been working with him,” Barbara joked. She softened the comment with a smile, but the knowing expression on Jatin’s face said she wasn’t kidding.
“Enough about us.” Jatin clapped his hands together. “Denver, we’re happy to see you so happy. After what happened with—”
His voice trailed off.
“Oh, just say it. Lilian. His ex-wife. No one liked her much anyway.” Chase slammed back his beer, wiped his mouth with the black linen napkin, and turned his frown to Martine. “Someone missed their shot at the university’s most eligible bachelor.”
Another awkward silence before the waiter rescued them with heaping plates of pasta and seafood. Denver rarely mentioned his ex-wife, who’d cheated on him years before.
“I’m sorry,” Denver whispered in Megan’s ear.
Megan squeezed his thigh under the table. She raised her glass. With a broad smile and a gusto she didn’t feel, she said loudly, “Cheers! To old friends and new adventures.”
“I’m sorry,” Denver said again later. They were back at Washington Acres. Megan had sat on an old wooden bench and was watching Denver examine Camilla. “They weren’t quite that bloody awful in college.”
“They were fine. You have nothing to apologize for.”
Denver looked up from the pig. “Ta, but they were horrible tonight. The whole lot of them. Those poor laddies and lassies tomorrow. They don’t quite know what they’re in for.”
Megan’s smile was full of empathy. “They’ll be earning their scholarships, that’s for sure. Tell me—who is Martine?”
“The PR person for the group.”
“No, she’s more than that. I caught the bit about your ex-wife. And she spent half the evening watching you.”
“Aye, I was hoping ye wouldn’t notice.”
“Well, I did. What’s the deal?”
Tired of Denver’s ministrations, Camilla gave a snort and backed away. She shook her head, then ran around the pen, making squealy noises as she went.
Camilla stopped and considered Denver before racing in his direction. Megan thought the little pig was going to bowl him over. Denver stayed seated and said her name again, more sternly this time, along with a string of Gaelic words Megan couldn’t quite make out. When Camilla stopped short of plowing into him, he gave her a pat and scratched behind her ears.
“There, there. You’ve been through a lot. Settle now.” Camilla looked about to argue, but instead she flopped down on her side, her head against Denver’s leg, leaning into the caress.
“Pigs are smart. Before long she’ll be hanging with your canine crew. Watch, though. They’re natural predators, dogs. They can get testy when they smell dinner. And to them, Camilla here may smell like dinner.”
Megan nodded. She’d watched earlier as Sadie and Gunther, her two dogs, examined the newcomer through the makeshift barrier. They seemed accepting—but she knew there’d be a grace period before they could all be alone together.
“Martine?” Megan said again.
“Aye. Martine.”
“Another long-time friend?”
“No, Megs.”
“Clearly this wasn’t the first time you met.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Megan stood, stretched. “You’re being annoyingly coy.”
Denver’s eyes narrowed. “Why the interrogation?”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
Camilla raised her head and placed it in Denver’s lap. He responded with a smile that tugged at Megan’s insides. With his tousled auburn hair, dimples, and blue eyes, he could charm her out of a bad mood—most days. Maybe she was pushing…but she felt him pulling away and didn’t understand why.
Denver sighed. “No, it’s a fair question. Just not something I much want to discuss. I met Martine during some dark days. My then-wife Lilian and I were having problems, and I went to New York to get away. To think. I ran into Chase. He was there on BOLD business. He introduced me to Martine.” Denver shrugged. “We went out once. Just for drinks, nothing happened. I was still married, and although I guess I could have justified a one-nighter, my vows meant something to me.”
