Swan for the Money(91)

“Speaking of the chief, what’s he doing still here?” Dr. Blake said. “Shouldn’t he be down at the station, putting thumbscrews on Mrs. Winkleson?”

“His wife’s an exhibitor,” I said. “He’s probably waiting to see how she did. The judges shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“I hope not,” Dr. Blake said, glancing at his watch. “We should hit the road. Long drive ahead of us.”

“We can spare a few more minutes to see how the young people did in their show,” Caroline said. By young people, I realized, she meant my parents.

“True,” my grandfather said. “But let’s not stand around here wasting time. We could inspect the goats again.”

They strolled off arm in arm.

“A long drive?” I echoed. “He got his license back?”

“I’m taking them,” Rob said. “Do you know a town called Abingdon?”

“Yes,” I said. “That should be far enough.”

“Far enough for what?” Rob said.

“Far enough to qualify as a long drive,” I said.

“How far is it?”

“At least six hours. It’s almost in Tennessee.”

“Yikes,” he said, reaching for the rye bread. “I’d better pack provisions.”

“Get them to take you to a nice restaurant,” I said. “Abingdon has several. What are they rescuing now?”

“Dunno,” Rob said. “They didn’t say. Maybe they just want to do a little sightseeing. Hey, what’s in that one?”

He was pointing to yet another brown parcel, indistinguishable from the deli packages that littered the table, except that Michael was keeping this one on his lap.

“Special surprise for Meg,” Michael said, moving it under the table and out of Rob’s reach.

“Sorry,” Rob said, sounding unrepentant. “If it’s anything good, save me some, will you?” he added to me. “I’ll try to guilt trip Gramps into some good meals on the trip. Come on, Spike, let’s go bark at the goats one last time.”

With that, he and Spike strolled off.

“Sightseeing?” Michael repeated.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” I said. Should I tell him about Mimi? Probably better not share my guesses, however accurate they were. No sense making him yet another accessory after the fact. “They’re off to rescue some other kind of animal. Just remember, in case they ask, we’re way too busy with the llamas to take on any more animals.”

“Just the llamas?” Michael asked. “Or am I wrong in guessing that maybe we might be needing this?”

He handed me the paper bag he’d been withholding. I peeked inside to see several home pregnancy tests.

“You’re a mind-reader!” I exclaimed. “Exactly what I would have asked you to bring back if someone hadn’t been eavesdropping every single time we talked on the phone. Well, except for the middle of the night, when I wasn’t really thinking well.”

“Oh, is that what was going on?” he asked. “I just thought you were having rampant food cravings and made an optimistic guess at why.”

We both burst out laughing.

“Meg, dear.” Mother, of course. “I’m so glad to see that you’ve recovered from your shock.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Any word from the judges?”

“I think they’ll let you know directly when they’re finished,” Mother said. “After all, you’re the organizer. And an excellent organizer if I say so myself. In fact, everyone says so.”

“Thank you,” I said. Then I braced myself. Mother so often used compliments to sweeten completely unreasonable requests.

“You had to cope with so many unfortunate events, and still managed to pull off a wonderful show.”

Translation: in spite of all obstacles, she was optimistic that she might win a satisfactory number of trophies.

“Everyone’s so impressed,” she said. “The good job you’ve done is such a contrast to what’s happening with next month’s garden show.”

Uh-oh.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, dear,” Mother said. “But if you could see your way clear to taking over organizing the garden show—”

“Sorry,” I said. “But no.”

“We had an informal meeting of the board just now, and everyone thinks it’s a splendid idea, so as soon as we can convene an emergency meeting and take an official vote—”

“No thanks,” I said.

“And I’m sure we can get all the nice volunteers who helped with the rose show to pitch in.”