Page 42 of For Butter or Worse
Leo:Feeling better?
Nina:I’m never hiking again.
Leo:The only reason to hike is so you can eat a lot afterward.
Nina:I was only in it for the EDM.
Leo:Ever the artist...
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14
Leo:Saw you posted a photo of a pumpkin tart on IG, cool if I comment?
Nina:No pie puns, please.
Leo:Why? Don’t you crust me?
Nina:
Leo:I’m filling awesome about my comment. Aren’t you?
Nina:“Hap-pie Friday”???
Leo:you’re welcome
16
NINA
“Nina!” Cory and Dori singsonged her name as they opened the front door to their ancient but beautifully maintained Victorian home. They wore complementary fleece Patagonia pullovers and their heads tilted to the left at the same time. If Nina hadn’t already met them and known this to be their normal MO, she might be a little freaked out by the synchronization.
“So great to see you both!” Nina hugged Dori, then Cory, and stepped into their life-size gingerbread house.
They spoke over each other as they led Nina through the front hall, across the living room rug and out into the backyard.
“Jasmine is setting the table,” Cory said.
“Did you do something different with your hair?” Dori said.
“Oh, I love it!” Cory said.
“But have you ever tried bangs? With your face shape—”
Cory interrupted her, “We’re so glad you’re here.”
“Well, Ididwash my hair last night,” Nina finally said.
They both laughed. “You are too funny,” they said at the same time.
From what Jasmine had told her, her parents had bought the 100-plus-year-old house not only to restore it to its former glory, but also because of the rare—for LA—two acres of land it sat on. Enough space to grow their own plants, raise chickens and build the greenhouse they’d always wanted. Their mini-oasis was impressive, and transported her to her own childhood, where she and Sophie had grown up in a small town, surrounded by farmland.
Nina made her way to the large wooden outdoor table, where Jasmine was setting plates and utensils.
“Thanks for coming,” Jasmine said as they hugged.
“If you’re cooking, I’m always coming.” Nina grabbed the bundle of napkins from Jasmine and distributed them as they all sat down to brunch.
Jasmine had made shakshouka with eggs from the chickens and tomatoes from the garden. She’d also baked focaccia sprinkled with rosemary from her parents’ herb garden. It seemed so natural that Jasmine had gone into food, especially growing up with all the fresh ingredients around her.
