Page 109 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
“She’s a therapy goat named Rose,” she says, panting and beaming like she just won the lottery. “And she’soursnow.”
I stare. Then grin. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you adopt a goat?”
“Well,” she says with sparkling eyes, “I adopted her in celebration.”
Angel steps out onto the porch, Lisette still perched on her hip like a giggling, flour-dusted parrot. She catches sight of the goat and lets out a squeal that could probably be heard across the valley.
“Did you say something aboutcelebration?” She grins, shifting Lisette to her other side as she hurries down the steps.
Behind her, the screen door bangs open again. Scotty steps out, arm looped around Lily—her hair freshly brushed and still damp from her afternoon shower. Andy trails behind them, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets, eyebrows already raised at the goat, which is now happily sniffing the welcome mat.
“I go inside for five minutes and come back to… goat acquisition?” Scotty says, half amused, half resigned.
“She’s not just a goat,” Marcy says, breathless. “She’s a sign.”
Andy squints. “A sign of what?”
“A sign that today ishuge,” she says, waving the leash like a ribbon. “I just came from town and—well, okay, technically, I was across the road from town hall, but news travels fast when Mrs. Fishman’s in line at the post office and mentions something to Randy, who tells the UPS guy, who then tells Jenelle—who told me.”
Everyone’s leaning forward now. Even the goat.
Marcy lifts a finger, eyes dancing. “Are you ready for this?”
Angel bounces Lisette, who nods solemnly. “Ready.”
Marcy takes a breath, then grins. “Alexander MacDonald has officiallygiftedMaple Falls the entire plot of land. The deal’s done. Signed, sealed, delivered. It’sours.”
For a beat, there’s silence.
Then Angel gasps. Lily claps. Andy whoops. Scotty just closes his eyes and exhales like a ten-pound weight has lifted off his chest. Lisette giggles watching everyone’s reaction.
Marcy turns to me, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. “What a wild ride, huh?”
I reach for her hand. “Best Thanksgiving I ever could have imagined.”
A loud crash rings out from inside the house and everyone freezes.
Angel gasps. “Edgar!”
We turn just in time to see him appear in the doorway like a goat-shaped wrecking ball, a whole spray of carrot peels dangling from his mouth. His hooves skid on the porch as hestops, spots the new goat, and cocks his head in slow motion like he’s processing a cosmic revelation.
Thenbam. He bolts straight toward her.
“Don’t you dare bite our new goat friend—” Angel starts.
She didn’t have to worry. Edgar spits the half-chewed carrot peels right onto the ground like an offering. The new goat doesn’t hesitate. She munches happily while Edgar nuzzles against her with the unbothered confidence of a creature who’s certain he’s just met the love of his life.
“Well,” Scotty says, wrapping an arm around Lil’s shoulder as they all turn back toward the house. “Looks like someone’s got himself a Thanksgiving date.”
Everyone laughs, then filters inside one by one, still chuckling and shaking their heads—leaving just me, Marcy, and the two goats on the porch.
She slips her hand into mine.
“Think they’re soulmates?” Marcy asks, nodding toward Edgar, now curled protectively around his new goat friend like he’s known her forever.
“Absolutely,” I say, slipping an arm around her. “And I should know. I’m French—we’re experts in soulmates.”
She lets out a soft laugh, tucking herself into my side. “Is that so?”
