A livestock license shouldn’t be a big deal, but then again, it seems livestock is everywhere in southeastern Wisconsin. On the drive to East Troy from Beloit she watched as countless livestock trucks rumbled past her car on the freeway. She was relieved the cages were empty, sparing her a glimpse of the watery orbs of the animals’ eyes when they were headed for slaughter.

“It’s a public-health issue,” Marco says. “I’ve tried everything.”

“How much?”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter how much,” Marco says. “We don’t have enough time to get it approved. We just can’t have camels. It was a bad idea anyway. Terrence was right. The smell alone would be a problem.”

Sherri thought camels were a bad idea when he’d first made the suggestion, although she hadn’t said so out loud because she knew that Marco would discover this on his own. She’s having a hard time caring about the gala. Her entire life in Palm Springs feels unreal, because she is overcome by the sight of the bandstand and the giant spruce the town decorates for Christmas.

The lovely lilting sound of Marco’s voice is drowned out by the rumble of a passing motorcycle. There are still little flags stuck in the grass, left over from the Fourth of July more than a month ago. She’s forgotten what a big deal Independence Day has always been here, and she’s sad she missed it, sad that Violet never experienced a small-town Fourth of July when she was a kid: the floats, carnival, ETBT, and fireworks she’d watch on the lawn by the library. As much as Sherri used to love the activity, she also remembers how happy she was when it was all over and the people who’d come from everywhere else, the lake people and the campers, even the carnies, would leave and she’d have her town back. Her town.

Marco says something about an ordinance against tiki torches and Sherri gasps. “Giles is gone?”

“What’s gone? What’s Giles?”

“I’ll call you later. Don’t worry about the camels or the torches. We’ll figure something out.”

“Well OK, bye then.”

The entire building that once housed Giles has disappeared. It seems impossible. Not just impossible, but a betrayal of memory and history. At first, she thinks she’s entered the square from the wrong corner, got turned around. Is she dreaming? A plot of grass stands in its place, just grass like any old mowed lawn. Businesses didn’t get tombstones, yet she wishes they did.