Page 27 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

“You’re beautiful. I hate that you don’t see it.”

She pursed her lips. “Jason never thought so. Not after I had Colby and the weight never came off.”

Something sharp caught in my chest, and I wanted to commit murder. “You’re beautiful, and Jason’s a tool.”

“Thank you.” Her lips wobbled. “You’re the best. All of you are.”

“Have you thought about what Bridget said yesterday?”

“You mean when she said video wasn’t my calling? Yeah, I think that’s obvious.”

“The part about corporate catering.”

She scratched behind Kat’s ear, and I could hear the cat’s purr from ten feet away. “I do like cooking for crowds. But I wouldn’t know how to start.”

“Start with something like a selection of muffins and breakfast pastries. You’re great at baking. Then move up to lunch. Keep it simple. Salads and sandwiches are mostly what we eat at work anyway. Bridget said she’d hire you. And I will too. You can do all of it in my kitchen, and when you’re ready to expand, I’ll loan you whatever you need to get set up.”

Tears pooled in her blue eyes. “You really think I can do it?”

“You can, and you’re not alone. Bridget and I have contacts. Plus, we can help you draw up a budget. Andrew has a sister who can help you with marketing and social media. That’s enough to start.”

Her lips quivered when she smiled. “Y’all are the best.”

“So are you. Are there any of those lemon cookies left over from yesterday?”

“I think so. I’ll make some tea too.”

“Where’d you find tea in my kitchen?”

“I went to the grocery store, silly. I shopped for a week’s worth of healthy meals. All you had were those depressing freezer meals.”

I liked how she always found her confidence when talking about food. I pressed further. “Depressing? I paid a lot of money to a specialist to tailor them to my body’s nutritional needs. I like those freezer meals.”

She scrunched her nose. “No. You like the convenience, but they taste like chemicals and sadness.”

“Chemicals, maybe. But not sadness. Independence.” I sat up on the couch.

“Whatever. With a little thought and preparation, I can make delicious food from fresh ingredients that can be served almost as quickly as those plastic-tray atrocities.”

“You sound like an infomercial. Save it for marketing your catering business.”

“You’ll see that I can back up my claims better than Billy Mays. I’m making a delicious pot of chicken noodle soup for lunch.” She smiled, smug. “I’ll freeze some for the next time you’re feeling bad, and it’ll be as convenient as your freezer meals but better because it’s made with love.”

“That should be the name of your business.”

She scrunched her nose. “Chicken Noodle Soup?”

“Made with Love.”

“You’re right! You know, I bet Colby could design a logo for me. I’ll get it printed on an apron.” She grinned. “I’ll text him while I make tea.” Carefully, she lifted Kat from her lap, then set her back on the chair. Her light-pink leggings were coated with black cat hair. “Be right back.” When she walked back to the kitchen, Kat leaped off the chair and trotted behind her.

“Don’t listen to Kat’s lies,” I called after her. “She can’t have human cookies. Her treats are in the?—”

“The canister on the counter. I know.” She winked at me. “Why do you think she’s following me?”

“Okay. I want two of those lemon cookies, please.” Normally, I didn’t care about desserts. We never had them around the house—the sugar conspiracy was one of Dad’s favorites—and I’d never developed a taste for them. But Savannah’s baked goods weren’t saccharine like grocery-store cookies. They were light and crunchy with a hint of sweetness and tasted like the food angels would serve in heaven.

My laptop chimed, and I glanced at the screen. A security alert. My friends knew not to drop by unexpectedly. When people ignored the No Soliciting sign, my automated security system usually handled it. This one must be persistent if they’d triggered an alert. Tingles swept through me as I checked the camera.

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