“I’m thinking about becoming a personal chef myself, if it means more of this.” Mia stopped to pick a pale violet flower. “I think I’m even getting a little crush on Erik . . . is that weird?”
Cierra’s back straightened, recalling what Zelda had to say earlier that morning.
“No, not weird at all. He’s great, gives good advice. He just seems a little different from the type of guy you normally go for, though. If anything, I figured you had a thing for Randy.”
Mia winced, stopping what she was doing to stand upright. “What’s my normal kind of guy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not ‘great’?” Mia probed.
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” Cierra put down her basket. “I wasn’t trying to say anything negative about who you date. I just meant that I don’t think he’s as casual as you are. Not everyone likes meaningless—”
“Meaningless?”
“Just, this is my job, you know? I don’t want anything to get—”
“No, I get it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna seduce Elliot’s little brother,boss,” Mia said, getting back to flower picking.
Cierra sighed, feeling guilty for making Mia uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot riding on this.”
Exasperated, Mia groaned. “Oh my god, Cee, I get it. It’s not a big deal. Some of us are capable of just having crushes. Not everything has to be so serious.”
“You’re right.” Cierra sighed. “Sorry. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for understanding.”
The two got back to sifting through the fields in an uncomfortable silence. After twenty minutes, Mia dropped her shoulders and exhaled, coming to where Cierra was picking. She dropped to her knees, eye-level with Cierra, and placed a hand on her right shoulder, smearing little specks of dirt. “Cierra, you busted your ass to get here, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, okay? Consider my little crush shelved. I can live with quick sneak peeks of him by the pool. Besides, I don’t think he’s into me anyway. And Randy isn’t bad company. I can make do.” Mia got up and wiped her hands, proudly appraising their floral haul. “I think we gathered enough for now. C’mon, boss, let’s walk back. I’m getting hungry.”
Delicate white and purple flowers adorned the long wooden table where the weekend party sat. Cierra had made a couple of summer salads, along with herby fish and a strawberry-rhubarb crumble with homemade chamomile ice cream. Although dessert wasn’t Cierra’s strong suit, its success pleasantly surprised her. A chorus of satisfied sighs confirmed this at the end of the meal.
Elliot piped up, “Cierra, you deserve a night off. Erik and Randy will help clean up tonight.”
“But—”
“Nope, that’s an order. Go watch a movie or something. The boys can handle it, right?”
Erik and Randy both exchanged unbothered glances. “Of course,” Erik said, beginning to gather plates from everyone.
Mia suggested putting onPractical Magic, and the group moved to the entertainment room. It was fashioned with plush couches and cushions on the floor, facing a massive flat-screen TV, by far the most modern piece of technology in the entire rental home. As a child of the 90s, the movie transported Cierra to a dreamy nostalgic oasis, watching a young Nicole Kidman wearing clothes that reminded Cierra of what her mother wore in her childhood photos.
After the movie finished, everyone headed to bed, sufficiently fed and drowsy from the plentiful wine and comforting atmosphere. Out of habit, Cierra went to the kitchen in her toasty state, put everything away, and scanned the fridge to ensure she had what she needed for breakfast the next day. She wanted to avoid an early trip to the store, preferring to figure out some way to incorporate leftovers before they headed back to New York City in the afternoon. There was no way she wasn’t waking up with a headache the next morning.
But suddenly, while appraising the food contents, a wave of sadness came over her as she realized her mountain getaway wascoming to a close. Back in reality, her empty apartment awaited. She had already begun prepping herself to hop on the apps, thinking of various get-to-know-you lines.
So, what was your dream job as a kid . . .
At least preparing forPlatedgave her something to look forward to. Or dread, depending on how she wanted to look at it.
Slowly closing the door of the refrigerator, she grabbed a glass of water before making her way to the staircase but bumped into a large, solid object.
Water spilled on her shirt, and two firm hands grabbed her forearms to steady her, gripping into her skin.
“Whoa, sorry about that. Was just looking to see if there were any leftovers,” Erik said. Only the light from the moon, and a lamp on in a nearby room, came into the kitchen. But even so, he could see the melancholy expression still lingering on Cierra’s face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, freeing her arms from his grasp but maintaining the close space. “Are remote mountains not your thing?” he teased, eliciting a side smile from Cierra.
“Now that you mention it, this trip does remind me a lot ofGet Out,” she retorted, but it took a few seconds for her to register what she just said out loud. Rich white family. Remote location. One brown person . . . who happened to be the staff.
Erik had his mouth agape and let out a whoop before cupping his hand around his mouth, trying not to wake anyone.
