She shoved the cakes into the case and without even a walk-through of the bakery or a goodbye, she went home to feed Gray.
The drive home was only a few blocks. The old craftsman-style house with its open porches, overhanging beams, and rafters welcomed her even when she couldn’t have the hanging baskets overflowing with pretty flowers. The thick columns with the stone supports on the front porch were her favorite part. The decorative lights had come on as the sun went down; those usually gave the house a fairytale look that made her happy, but tonight emptiness filled her.
She parked in front of the carriage-style garage door and hitched her canvas bag on her shoulder. As usual, she had a treat for Gray tucked in the front pocket. She twisted the key in the lock and hung her purse on the hook by the front door. As soon as she pushed the door closed, behind her she heard Gray’s hooves scurrying against the tiles in the mudroom, followed by his high-pitched snorty-squeak welcome.
At least this little guy brought her joy and love every day. He was way more reliable than any other man she’d met anyway.
“Hey Gray. How’s my best buddy?” She peered over the bottom half of the Dutch door.
He danced around, doing a little hippity hop with his front feet up off the ground, but really it was like his nose did all the work.
“That’s my boy. Dance for momma.”
She opened the door and stepped inside the mudroom and sat on the floor with him.
When Gray had started growing, she’d had an addition built to the house to accommodate him. Her contractor had come up with the perfect solution. Putting a mudroom off the back end of the house allowed Gray to come and go all day while she was away without keeping him in the house. From the mudroom, a doggy door led to a covered play area with a sandbox.
Every Sunday she spent time using her old bulb planter to hide treats in his yard area. It gave him something to do. She’d learned early on that a bored pig was a destructive pig, and that wasn’t good for anyone.
“Look at that face.” She put her hands on his cheeks. His snout was dirty. He’d most definitely done some rooting around today. She grabbed a towel to wash his face, but like any little boy he tried to wiggle away.
“Now that you’re all cleaned up, let’s do our tricks.”
Gray sat down. Then stood and spun around.
She held up her hand. “Wait a minute.” Sometimes Gray got so excited that he started before she gave him the command. “Okay. Now sit.” He did, one ear flopping low over his eye. He looked so stinking cute when it did that.
She handed him a treat. “Now spin around.”
Gray spun in a circle and waited for his reward.
“Good boy. Last treat, then I’ll fix your dinner.” He gobbled the treat, then ran to the corner of the mudroom and came back carrying his little blue wire basket. That meant he wanted to play their version of basketball. She took the basket and sat on the floor with him. “Okay, but just for a few minutes. Go get your ball.”
Gray raced across the room, skidding to a stop, then came back with the beanbag ball in his mouth. He dropped it into the basket and then sat with his nose in the air.
“Aren’t you proud of yourself.” She grabbed the ball from the basket and tossed it across the room.
Gray sped across the room again, oinking and snorting all the way with his tiny feet scampering for all he was worth. He grabbed the ball and came back, dumping the ball into the basket again.
“Good job, cutie pie. By the way, I saw your namesake. He’s cute too.” She got up. “He thinks he’s a better cook than me, but you love my cooking, don’t you? Come get some dinner.”
Gray followed her. She heated up a cup of mixed vegetables in the microwave, and then stirred them into a cup of pig chow pellets.
She carried the bowl back into the mudroom and put his dish on his place mat. He sat next to the bowl, waiting patiently for the command. “Get it!”
Then Gray leaped to his feet and pigged out.
She stood at the door and watched him eat. Gray finished his dinner and then exited through the doggy door to the back porch and then out to the yard. She closed the Dutch door. He’d come in when he was ready. It had been so tempting to let him in other parts of the house when he was little, but a pig could wreak havoc on things with that snout. She was glad now that she’d stuck to her guns on creating a little pig-proof space of his own.
She skipped dinner for herself, choosing to lay on the couch and go through the big stack of magazines that had piled up over the holidays. One by one, she flipped through them, tearing out interesting recipes, flavor combinations, and decoration ideas, then setting them aside for the recycle bin.
But her thoughts kept going back to that party. Andrew was the last person she’d expected to see. After seven years, she’d colored him gone for good. What bothered her more than seeing him was how off kilter she felt about it.
If anyone had asked her a week ago about Andrew, she’d have said she was long over all of that, but now she wasn’t so sure, and that wasn’t fair.
It was only eight thirty, so she took a long, hot bath then went to her bedroom. She slid beneath the crisp white sheets to dream about all she’d accomplished without him.
I’m living the dream. He was only a tiny piece of my past that helped build my passion for baking. A short-term purpose, that’s all he ever was.
She closed her
