“What’s so funny?” the woman asked. Not intrusively, but the way a friend might ask when they want to see a video on your phone.
Cierra was a little startled, unaware of what her face had been doing. “Oh, just that little square thing. It’s crazy what tech can do . . . even at a farmers' market. Just funny to me, I guess,” Cierra said, shrugging off her embarrassingly elementary observation. Like she’d never seen a credit card before.
“Ah, this stupid thing. I was cash-only for years but finally gave in after losing over half of my customers. Sometimes you just have to know when to stop swimming against the stream.”
Cierra nodded. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”
The woman rubbed her calloused fingers on her apron and stuck out a hand to Cierra. “I’m Miriam, by the way. Here every week, unless I don’t feel like it, that is.” Miriam laughed at her own joke. “I gotta ask, what the hell are you gonna do with all those mushrooms?”
Forgetting about catching the train, Cierra got excited at the thought of divulging her new recipe to someone. She told Miriam about the soup, which then led to talking about her new gig and how she was still feeling nervous about her new job. All the while, Miriam was nodding along emphatically, even ignoring passersby who made their way in and out.
When Miriam’s phone rang, it snapped Cierra back to reality. “Sorry, kid. It’s the hubby — gotta take this. He’s my boss, can’t get caught slacking.” Miriam raised her eyebrows comically. Cierra checked her own phone —damn it. She still had enough time to make it to the Lawsons, but she needed to leave right then.
As Cierra began to leave, Miriam told her hubby-boss to hang on a minute. “Great meeting you, Cierra. Do me a favor and take a picture of what you turn my babies into? I wanna see the end product!”
“For sure.” Cierra felt a warmth spread through her, a pleasant surprise at this unexpected interest in her work. Not because of who she worked for, which she hadn’t even brought up. Just because Miriam thought her soup sounded tasty.
Cierra smiled and put her headphones in while she speed-walked to the subway. It wasn’t until she was sitting on the hard, orange seats that she realized she had no way of showing Miriam her recipe. She didn’t even know the name of her business.
Guess I’m just gonna have to go back next week, Cierra told herself happily.
It was nice getting into a new routine. Cierra sat with all her farm-fresh spoils and a sense of hopeful optimism. But then the phone itch returned, and this time, she couldn’t resist.
She tapped on the little green message emoji on her home screen.
Still nothing.
Disappointed, she put her phone away.
After months of wallowing in a pool of self-pity filled by the pain of being rejected by a man, Cierra walked to the Lawsons’ brownstone determined to break the cycle.
So what if Julian hadn’t texted back yet, she told herself.You have an incredible job, and a sweet new apartment. Just focus on killing this meal prep.
She reapplied her coral lip gloss before exiting the subway station, and with a faint smile, she sauntered along with her head held high. Jet-black sunglasses sat just low enough on her nose bridge to give the look of an intriguing woman about town.
And when she reached her destination, she rang the doorbell, waiting confidently on the step as if it were her own place. She was surprised when Erik, not Zelda or Elliot, answered the door in sweatpants and a rumpled shirt.
“Oh,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.
Cierra remained tall, but she casually removed her elbow from the side of the door she had been leaning against. “Oh. Hey, Erik. Did Zelda tell you I was coming?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I thought you were going to be delivery.” He eyed the bursting bags of food she had just dropped to the floor and reconsidered. “Which I guess I wasn’t totally wrong. Want any help with those?”
“I’m good, thanks though.” Cierra lugged one of the bags back to the kitchen as Erik lifted an eyebrow, watching her struggle independently with the heavy load. Even though he probably meant nothing by it, Cierra did not particularly appreciate being compared to delivery. But for ten thousand a month, she’d put up with a lot worse. She just hoped they would stay out of each other’s way. Sure, Zelda had said she had the right to kick him out from under her feet any time, but that was not something she realistically planned to exercise any time soon.
As soon as she was back in the kitchen, though, the energy she’d had while strolling in the lively city returned to her with all its bright optimism. The past few months had been challenging, but here she was with full access to an all-star cooking space, making double the salary she had previously. The room was sparkling, resembling a kitchen studio for television. They had either had it professionally cleaned recently, or Zelda meant what she said about hardly ever using it.
Erik appeared with her other bags and gently set them down.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, before dragging them closer to her prep station.
“No problem.”
Quickly, Cierra unloaded the colorful groceries and placed the ingredients together by the recipe, eager to get started.
Delivery, my ass.
She had been planning to start out with the breakfast snack bars, but now she wanted to save them for last, out of spite. If Erik was hungry, he could wait for his delivery. But then her professional guilt got the better of her, and she decided that maybe that was petty. Besides, she hadn’t eaten that morning herself and was craving something on the fruity side.
