She needed a pickup truck.”

I say, “That must’ve been a helluva pickup truck!”

“It weren’t so much the truck as the practicality,” Trudy says. “Nelda couldn’t afford to raise a baby, and Raylan and Melba couldn’t get pregnant. And Nelda had a desperate need for transportation.”

“Why’s that?”

“She needed to haul a watermelon to the Kentucky State Fair. It’s your fair, so be there!”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the fair’s slogan. Top prize was five hundred dollars.”

“Did she win?”

“She did.”

“How big was her watermelon?”

“Two hundred sixty-one pounds! Second biggest ever recorded.”

“How could a woman sell her child?” Constance asks.

“Well, in Trigg County, it’s a lot easier to make a baby than finance a pickup truck.”

“Except for Raylan and Melba,” I say.

Trudy graces me with a small smile and says, “Except for them.”

Truth Luce gives Trudy a fierce look and says, “It sounds as though you condone her behavior.”

“It does?”

“Well, do you?”

All eyes turn to Trudy, who says, “I try not to pass judgment on other people’s behavior.”

“Even when it comes to trading children for pickup trucks?”

“Even then,” she says. “But that’s probably because I’m lazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“For me it’s a lot easier to be tolerant than perfect.”

10.

BY THE TIME we retire to Aiden and Bellamy’s enormous parlor, there’s not a man present who wouldn’t give a month’s income for a night with Trudy, except Bruce Luce, who continues to hold her responsible for the empty pockets he’s sporting, where checks should be.

“Gideon,” Bellamy says, employing a new tactic. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re attempting to recreate Pygmalion.”

“I am. Except that in our relationship, Trudy’s playing the part of Henry Higgins.”

“Clever. Should we be concerned you’re falling in love?”

“I don’t know why you’d be concerned about it, but yes. I’ve fallen in love.”

“With Trudy.”

“Yes.”

“And does she share these feelings of love?”

“Trudy can speak for herself.”

“Indeed,” Aiden says. “She speaks as wonderfully as she looks.”

Bellamy gives her husband a look. She’s effectively reached her boiling point. “Very well,” she says. “I’ll ask the million-dollar question. Trudy, darling, are you in love?”

“You mean with my husband, Darrell?”

“No dear.” She allows herself a small smile while exchanging looks with the other women. “I’m not referring to your current marriage to your brother. I’m asking if you’re in love with Dr. Box, our devastatingly wealthy guest of honor.”

Trudy thinks it through before saying, “I care for Gideon in a unique way.”

Constance says, “Is it something you can put into words?”

“It’s like when people tell you don’t get a cat ’cause cats are independent and unaffectionate, and one day you find one that turns out to be needy and affectionate. It don’t make sense, but you have fun with it anyway. Except that one day you put a kitty cam on its neck to see where it goes when you let it out at night, and the next mornin’ you watch the video and discover you’ve been spendin’ your days with a serial killer and rapist.”

Another guest, Olivia, says, “Rapist?”

Trudy says, “You know how cats are at night, right?”

“Uh…no, not really.”

“Well, they run around killin’ lizards, birds, snakes, squirrels, and they’ll fuck anythin’ with a crease, includin’ dead cats and the occasional possum.”

Noticing the expressions in the room, I decide a subject change might be in order. But before I’m able to come up with one, Bruce’s wife, Truth, says, “You seem to know a lot about animals. Would you consider yourself an expert?”

Trudy says, “No ma’am, I just know some silly stuff, like how armadillos always birth four babes at a time, all the same sex, and how horses and rabbits can’t vomit.”

“Fascinating!” Constance says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, tell us more.”

“Well, you probably already know that animals won’t eat one that’s been struck by lightnin’, right?”

“Pretend we don’t know that obvious fact. What else can you tell us? Something about beavers, perhaps?”

“You mean like how beavers don’t eat fish?”

“They don’t?” Aiden says.

Bellamy frowns. “Do you by chance know anything useful about animals?”

“You mean like how bats always turn left when flyin’ out of caves?”

Aiden laughs. “I can see why that might be good information to have.”

“Of course you can,” Bellamy says, fairly seething. “Perhaps our next soiree should be held in a cave. I see Trudy’s already dressed in anticipation of that occasion.”

“Maybe we should call it an evening,” I say.

“Oh, please don’t take her away!” Truth says. “I’m on the edge of my seat to hear what else Trudy considers useful about varmints. I’ll be the toast of my garden club next week!”

Trudy says, “I’m awful sorry about my clothes, Bellamy.