vegetables, squeezing avocados like a free woman, when a number I didn’t recognize lit up my phone. I let it go to voicemail. In the car, I listened.
A man’s voice, deeply frustrated, wind noise behind him: “Yeah, hi, this is All Occasion Rentals. We’re out here at the Whitmore farm with the twenty-by-forty tent and the folding chairs, but there’s a continue reading …
