I looked up the retreat online, and the food they serve is all-natural, low-sugar, and entirely plant-based. I packed some beef jerky to get me through.
Kayla tugs on the end of the ribbon, and it falls away, and the box opens. Inside is a single cupcake and a cardboard tag saying what flavor it is.
She holds up the tag and reads it.
“Chocolate Sin. Dairy free, suitable for vegans.” She turns to me in surprise. “You got me a vegan cupcake?”
I shrug. “No point in getting you something you’re not going to eat.”
She looks surprised, as if me doing something nice is shocking to her.
“That’s sweet. Thank you.”
I don’t mention that I scoured both the supermarkets in Hope and every corner store looking for vegan chocolates, but they didn’t have any. I was desperate by the time I went to the cafe, and the women in there took pity on me and showed me their vegan range. But Kayla looks pleased, and that makes the effort all worthwhile.
She closes the lid of the box and slips it into the day pack by her legs.
“You’re not going to eat it?”
“I’m going to save it for later, for dessert. And then you can have half.”
“I’m not eating a vegan cake.”
She shakes her head at me. “It tastes a lot like a normal cake, but it will have been made from pure cacao, dark and delicious chocolate, with no milk added.”
It does sound damn nice, and maybe I’ll try a bit, but I’m not going to admit that to her now. If she’s like any of the other vegans I’ve ever met, she’ll try to convert me one cupcake at a time. And there’s no way I’ll ever give up meat.
But I’m not interested in what Kayla eats. I want to know what makes her tick.
“What’s one thing in your life that you regret?”
She turns to me, surprised, and I risk a glance at her. “What?”
“That’s a hell of an opener.”
I shrug. “Do you want more small talk, or do you want to get to know each other?”
She nods her head slowly and looks out of the passenger window. Rain splatters the window, and we drive for a few minutes, listening to it hitting the car.
“I regret not leaving my corporate job sooner.”
This is news to me. I can’t imagine Kayla doing anything but teaching yoga. “What was the job?”
“I worked for a bank in commodities.”
“You were a trader?” I take my eyes off the road to peer at the woman sitting next to me. I’ve never seen her in anything other than yoga pants with a serene smile on her face. I cannot imagine Kayla on the trading floor.
“For three long years.”
This does not match up with the Kayla I’ve been observing for the past week.
“What happened?”
She shakes her head. “Nah-ah. That’s too many questions. It’s your turn.”
There’s obviously more to this story that she’s not ready to share yet. I can respect that. If you go from trader in the city to yoga instructor in the mountains, there’s got to be a story behind it. I’ll find out when she’s ready.
“What do you want to know?”
