Free Friday's Harbor by Diane Hammond

the wobbling tote. The woman reached in and extracted a furious Chihuahua. “This is Julio Iglesias,” the woman said. “I know he’s not supposed to be here, but he pees on things if I don’t take him along. Well, to be fair, he pees on things when I do take him along, too, but less often.”
    For the first time since this whole peculiar encounter had begun, Libertine smiled.
    “Of course, given your line of work you probably already know all that.”
    “No. The animal has to choose to communicate with me.”
    “Well, give him time. He probably has a whole list of complaints.”
    At that moment Julio Iglesias started to make a run for it, but the woman snatched him back and clamped him under her arm like an old handbag. His ears went flat.
    “I’m Ivy Levy, by the way.”
    “Libertine,” said Libertine, “Adagio.”
    Their pizzas arrived and Ivy immediately began picking off, blowing on, and then handing over bits of sausage to the dog, who appeared to be mollified. She looked up at Libertine. “You do know that Libertine means someone who’s debauched.”
    Libertine slumped. “My mother thought it sounded swashbuckling, like something a woman pirate might be called.”
    “Well, I guess you don’t develop psychic powers because you’ve had an easy childhood,” Ivy mused. “So what animal?”
    “Pardon me?”
    “You said you were here for an animal. Which one?”
    “I’m not sure yet,” Libertine said. “It’s complicated. When an animal gets in touch with me, I’m seeing them from the inside out, so to speak. It takes some time to figure out the rest.”
    “Well, sure.” Ivy repinned Julio Iglesias, who had been trying to edge out from under her arm. “Here’s a coincidence—I’m here for an animal, myself. A killer whale.”
    “Oh?” Libertine straightened in her chair.
    “His name is Friday and he was dying in a horrible little pool in Colombia, so we brought him up here. He just got here yesterday.” Ivy must have seen something in Libertine’s face, because she said, “He’s your animal, isn’t he?”
    “I don’t know,” said Libertine, but of course she did.
    A FTER LUNCH I VY met Truman on the pool’s metal stairs as Truman was coming down and Ivy was going up. Julio Iglesias was securely lashed into the detested Snugli.
    “Everything okay?” she asked.
    “He’s fine, according to Gabriel. By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you you’re welcome to stay with us. I hope you knew that without my having to say it.”
    “Thank you, honey, but I doubt Julio Iglesias would do well with a pig in the house.”
    “Miles is a very dog-friendly pig. It’s one of the benefits of his spending so much time at Woof! ”
    “I’m sure your pig would be fine—he’s not the one I’m worried about. Julio Iglesias can be very ugly.” She lowered her voice to a meaningful whisper. “He bites.” Raising her voice, she added, “I think it would be best for all of us if I just stay with your folks. We’ve already worked it out.”
    “Well, the offer stands any time you’re here.”
    Ivy nodded, but she’d apparently moved on. “So it looks like our boy came through the trip with flying colors.”
    “Evidently—Gabriel says he’s probably a little stiff and sore, but he’s eating well. I’m actually more concerned about Gabriel than I am about the whale. I saw him taking pills, and he looks awful. I didn’t want to pry, but you might ask him about it.”
    Ivy knew this already. “He has strep or something—he won’t talk about it.”
    Truman was appalled. “But he spent the whole day in forty-degree water.”
    Ivy shrugged. “If you ask him, he’ll just tell you he’s better.”
    “Better than what—death?”
    Ivy patted Truman’s cheek. “Don’t fuss, dear. He’s a grown man.”
    I VY SAW S AM on the far side of the pool, sitting in her splintery old Adirondack chair. She went over, bent to give him a quick hug, and waved away his offer of the chair.