Page 20 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

She’d been quieter than usual today. Actually, she’d been quiet for two weeks, ever since I’d dragged her out of her home on Thanksgiving. Lucie and Carly agreed that it had been the right thing to do, and we’d all been giving her space while she figured out her shit. The good thing was that she only burst into tears once or twice a day now. She might miss her copper pots, but she seemed to be finding solace in my kitchen.

“What is it?” Carly hurried over.

“This is my size. And it’s so elegant.” Savannah held up a black suit jacket.

“You have excellent taste,” Carly said. “It’s a classic Ann Taylor stretch wool that would pair perfectly with a pencil skirt or slacks. Try it on.”

Savannah shrugged out of her zippered pink hoodie and slipped on the jacket.

Carly assessed her. “It’s a little snug in the bust.” She flipped open the side and scanned the inside. “But if we let out the seam allowance, it’ll fit perfectly.”

Savannah smoothed a hand down the front of the jacket. “I’m not one of your clients.”

Fury and pity warred on Carly’s face. I’d been teetering over the same line ever since she’d moved in with me, a mix of compassion for what her ex had put her through and a desire to prod her to get over the bastard and move on with her life.

“I think we could let you have it for a donation. Say, twenty dollars?” Carly flashed her a bright smile.

“That jacket will look great on you in court,” Justine said. “Understated, professional. Perfect for sticking it to your ex.”

Tiny sparkles erupted in my belly. I loved that my plan had come together. “I’ll make the donation.”

Savannah’s expression dimmed for a second before it brightened. “It’ll work for job interviews too.”

“Job interviews?” I repeated. “What type of job interviews?” I hated to point it out, but my friend had no office skills to speak of. She’d somehow managed to brick her own phone last week while trying to download an update to her favorite game. I’d recovered it for her, only for her ex to turn off her line a couple days later. Now, she was on my plan. I hadn’t shared a phone plan since, ugh—Harry.

“I could start out as a temp,” she said, “and work my way up to an administrative assistant.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked quietly. It was fine if she did, but Savannah was fifty-one. If she had career goals, she needed to start on them as soon as she could.

“I don’t know what I want,” she mumbled, shrugging out of the blazer.

Lucie stood, stretched, and meandered to the table in the center of the room, where Savannah had spread a feast of baked goods, hummus, and pita chips she’d magicked up in my kitchen. I’d been nervous about sharing my home after things went so off the rails with Harry, but living with Savannah was different, almost fun. Plus, I was eating better than I had since…since my mom died.

“God,” Lucie said, “I can’t stop eating these cranberry scones. They’re amazing.”

“Try some of the hummus,” Savannah said. “It’s good for lactation.”

Lucie spoke through a mouthful of scone. “You didnotmake hummus for my milk production.”

“I think about nutrition when I’m preparing food,” Savannah said, her shoulders rising to her ears.

“Of course you do, honey.” Carly rushed to hug her.

“I thought you were stress-baking,” I said, “but you were designing a special menu for us. Hummus for Lucie and low-sugar fruit tarts for Carly.”

Bridget brought me a cup of roasted nuts and seeds. “And Omega-3s for you.”

I picked up a walnut, and as I crunched it between my teeth, the idea clicked into place. “Maybe Savannah should go back to school to become a nutritionist.”

“School? At my age?” she scoffed. She walked to the table and brushed cookie crumbs into her palm, then tossed them in the trash. “No, thanks. I’d never be able to pay back the loans.”

“We’ll get your ex to pay for school,” Justine said.

“Justine, I love how you think,” Lucie said. “Savannah, you should totally do something with food. Remember that garbage seminar where we met? Maybe it wasn’t garbage after all. Carly became a stylist to the stars. I finally finished my book. You even left that cheating asshole. We all launched into new, better phases of our lives.” She shoved the last bite of scone into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“What about Tessa?” Savannah said.

“What about me?” I spotted the mate to the blue suede pump and triumphantly set them together on the table. “Aha!”

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