Though Carter had only intended to pick up pickles for Lizzy and a pita wrap for herself, somehow she had spent hours at the Freshville co-op that afternoon, wandering the eclectic, disorganized, yet oddly endearing aisles, and grazing on free samples. The longer she ambled, the more the place grew on her. (The amazing free food didn’t hurt either.) She tried three kinds of Confituras‘ small batch, locally sourced jams, Cake & Spoon’s caramelized red onion quiche with blue cheese, and the Mediterranean Chef’s Grandma’s Humus—almost enough delectable bites to constitute lunch itself.
A small dent in her wallet and two large grocery bags later, Carter returned home to a spotless kitchen. Had Taylor been on one of her cleaning rampages, she wondered? Carter set about unloading the Freshville bags, opening a bottle of Topo Chico, and putting on some Kat Edmonson tunes.
She slipped a couple of pounds of organic ground bison meat into the bottom drawer of the fridge, then gingerly placed a handful of bright yellow pear tomatoes in her fruit and veggie bowl. Inhaling the pungent arugula, she pulled her Monday-through-Sunday meal list off the fridge door, wadded it into a ball, and tossed it into the trash. Now that she was unemployed, who needed such rigid organization? Maybe it was time to let her hair down a little.
Taylor, dressed in burnt orange sweats, interrupted her thoughts as she walked into the kitchen. How could that girl look that good, even in workout clothes? Did they really come from the same gene pool?
“I see you abandoned your crisis control job search station,” said Taylor.
“Just for an hour or so.”
“More like five,” said Taylor looking at her watch.
“And I see you’ve been doing a little cleaning,” said Carter, gesturing towards her sparkling spice rack. “Is everything okay?”
“Just burning off a little steam,” Taylor shrugged. Then she spotted a jar of fresh raspberry jam Carter had bought at Freshville. “Are you making your linzer torte?” It was Taylor’s new favorite dessert.Pages: