Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“And, ugh, whatever, favorites are kinda toxic, I know. It’s fucked up to need to rank things because it implies there’s a single best thing, and that’s such a shitty capitalist mindset. But you know what I mean. I love you—yeah, that’s the one.”
Greta grinned. “I love you too.”
“Okay, good. Well.” Maggie’s voice was a little rough. “I gotta go eat. I’m glad you called.”
“I’m glad I did too.”
Greta slid her phone back into her pocket, vibrating with a kind of giddy excitement in the aftermath of the conversation. It wasn’t about whether she was going to move to New Orleans. Not really. It was about what she had the capacity for. And suddenly her capacity seemed limitless.
“I could move here. Or anywhere. I can do whatever I want,” Greta whispered to Horse.
Horse nuzzled her stomach, as if to say, You absolutely can! Let’s keep walking, huh?
Without realizing it, Greta ended up on Carys’ street. It was rude to just stop by, surely. Maybe she could stroll past and shoot Carys a quick text, like, Hey, I’m nearby. Wanna pet Horse?
“We’ll just walk by, okay?” she said to Horse.
Horse loped easily down the street in front of Greta, almost like he was leading her to Carys’ house.
But before she had the chance to recompose the text in her head, they were nearly at Carys’, and there she was on the porch with Helen and Veronica.
“Greta?”
“Uh, hey,” Greta said, flustered. “We were taking a walk and…um.”
“Come have a drink!” Carys waved her onto the porch.
Greta wasn’t sure if she should hug Carys or kiss her, so it was a relief when Horse interposed himself between her and everyone on the porch.
“Well, who’s this angel?” Helen said. They crouched down in front of Horse and let him enthusiastically lick their face.
“This is Horse. He…uh…he’s this person Truman’s dog and…”
“Oh, Carys told us about your house swap,” Veronica said. “I love it. It’s so early two thousands.”
“Uh, thanks?”
Carys was smiling and looked pleased to see her. She waited until Helen was fully licked and then squeezed past Horse to slide an arm around Greta’s waist.
“Hey,” she said. And if Greta hadn’t known there were people around them, she would’ve sworn there was no one else in the universe. She lost herself in Carys’ whiskey-gold eyes and heard herself say hi back. But all she could pay attention to was the soft kiss Carys pressed to her lips. She tasted of berries and smoke and the honey that was just her mouth, and Greta wished they could live in that kiss forever.
“Drink?” Helen asked, holding a teacup out to Greta.
“Thanks. What is it?”
“Blackberry lemonade with a little moonshine thrown in for sparkle.”
They went inside the house, and when they were gone, Carys whispered, “A lot of sparkle.”
“My aunt taught me how to make it,” Veronica said.
“You know how to make moonshine?”
“I know how to make anything you want.” Veronica waved an elegant hand, and Greta believed her.
“Carys was telling me about your beekeeping. I’d love to see that sometime, if you ever want any help.”
“Sure. Come along tomorrow, if you want.”
“Really? Yeah, I’d love to.”
Helen came back onto the porch and set a bowl of water in front of Horse.
Greta thanked her and settled onto the bench with Carys, looping Horse’s leash loosely around her foot.
The drink tasted like berries and fire and summer, and Greta was instantly obsessed. “This is amazing. You should bottle it!”
“Right? This is what I’ve been telling them,” Carys agreed. “Y’all need to just open a restaurant, seriously.”
Veronica and Helen exchanged a look that said they’d discussed this.
“Opening a restaurant is a hard-core nightmare,” Helen said.
“We love life too much to ruin ours,” Veronica agreed. “However, we should find a way to sell this stuff to someone who wants to stock it in bars and serve it at local restaurants. Maybe after king cake season.”
“Well, if you want any help, I’d love to,” Greta said. “My family has a business, and I’ve worked there, like, since I was born, so if I can do anything—I mean, if I…I dunno, if I end up back here ever.”
She let the sentence linger in the air, trying it out for the first time.
“You think you might end up coming back?” Carys asked.
The newfound sense of possibility from before still lingered, but Greta didn’t want to freak Carys out.
“Yeah, I…I hate Owl Island. I mean, it’s lovely in its way, but. I was just talking to my sister, and she said there’s no reason to live somewhere forever just because you were born there. And I kinda never thought of it like that. But she’s right. Right?”
“Oh yes, absolutely right,” Helen said immediately. “I, par exemple, was born in a shit-stain of a town in rural Texas because my parents make bad choices. Was it nightmare fuel? Yes! Did I leave the second I turned sixteen? Also yes. Because of course in Texas, we’re allowed to get married at sixteen—nope, that’s definitely not still a child—and leave our families, thank fuck.”