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heard Louise start her car start and drive away.
    “You mean…cuz her husband killed himself?”
    “His suicide affected her severely. Her recent ebullient nature was, I understand, from what she’s related to me in the short while I’ve been acquainted with her, the norm for Louise prior to that event. She’s been morose to the point of morbidity until lately.”
    Immy picked up the last crumbs of brownie from her plate. “It’s awful he got so all-fired upset about losing his ranch like that.”
    “That land had been in his family for generations,” said Hortense.
    “And Amy JoBeth is Louise’s daughter? I should have figured that out. Now I think about it, they do kind of look alike.” They both looked a teensy bit like sows. “They haven’t been living here until recently, have they?”
    “Louise has transferred her domicile here from Bootstrap, whence she retreated after the suicide. Louise’s daughter was united in connubiality with Ernest Anderson, who was a member of the military establishment. I believe they were on various bases in this country and Europe until she returned to work in Wymee Falls a year ago. Amy JoBeth seems to have kept her matrimonial name of Anderson even after her divorce.”
    “How odd that I have her job.”
    “You’re raising pigs now?”
    “I am not raising pigs, Mother. She’s the person I replaced when I went to work for Mike Mallett. Maybe you didn’t hear me telling Louise. You were watching Drew with her new pig.”
    “My, my. Small world.”
    Immy retreated out the back door to the yard, where Ralph and Drew were leading Marshmallow around by his leash, acquainting him with his new quarters.
    “I think the cement pond should go yonder.” Ralph pointed to a spot near the corner of the pen. “I can rig up another pen for it, and a gate so Marshmallow can get there from his main pen. You’ll be able to close it off to clean it up.”
    “And just how am I supposed to clean up a cement pig pond?” asked Immy.
    “I will,” said Drew. “I clean it up. All by myself. Like I clean my room. I take all the toys out and put them away.”
    Immy had to chuckle. “Cleaning up” meant straightening to Drew. She had never cleaned anything in her short life.
    “Drew,” said Immy. “I’m going to get a piñata shaped like a piggy for your party tomorrow. Would you like that?”
    Drew’s eyes sparkled and she jumped up and down. “Piñata pig! Piñata pig!”
    “I think that means yes,” said Ralph.
    “We can pick it up after supper,” said Immy.
    “What are we having?” asked Ralph.
    It looked like Ralph would be staying.
    * * *
    After watching Ralph chow down on four pork chops and a mountain of mashed potatoes, Immy drove back to the pig breeder’s spread for the piñata. She thought her mother’s menu choice was unfortunate, but no one said anything.
    She’d never had a pet, although she’d always wanted a donkey, or maybe a goat. While her father was alive he’d promised she could have a pet when she was old enough to take care of it by herself. But his death when she was twelve shut her mother down so completely and for so long, Immy hadn’t brought it up again. She’d run into her own problems, letting that smooth-talking, exciting-looking, long-haul trucker talk her into fifteen minutes of passion in the bunk of his cab, and getting pregnant with Drew. He’d disappeared down the highway without Immy getting his name or license plate. Being pregnant had made her senior year of high school hard. But she wouldn’t trade Drew for anything on the planet. And she never felt the need for a pet after she had the baby.
    Maybe, just maybe, for Amy JoBeth, who had no children, losing Gretchen was a tiny bit akin to how it would be if Immy lost Drew. Hard to tell.
    Now that she was on her way to Amy JoBeth’s, Immy had to decide what to say to her when she saw her. She rehearsed some phrases. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Sorry about the pig.”