LITMIR.BIZ

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like it,” Jenna said. “We could also feature a different cookbook every week. Cook two or three recipes. That would encourage people to try different styles of cooking.” Plus it would be safe for her. Someone else’s recipe.

      “And give us a chance to sell specialty cooking items,” Violet added. “Woks, different pans. That kind of thing, not to mention the cookbooks themselves. Oh, and don’t forget the singles.”

      “What do you mean? Cooking for one? Isn’t that kind of sad?”

      Violet laughed. “Yes, but those of us who live alone have to eat, too.”

      “I live alone,” Jenna said. “I just whip up something.”

      “That’s because you know how. Those of us who aren’t blessed with your cooking background are forced to eat frozen dinners night after night. If we advertised that class in the right places, we could get a lot of people. Meeting someone in a cooking class is a whole lot more appealing than meeting someone in a bar.”

      “Sure,” Jenna said. Singles. She never would have thought of that. But it made sense.

      They continued brainstorming. Violet suggested a website.

      “I know a guy who does decent work for not a lot of money,” she said. “Want me to have him write up a proposal?”

      “Yes. My online experience is limited to finding professional cookware on sale.”

      By eleven, they had a master plan in place. Violet left to talk to the web guy and set up the newspaper advertising. Jenna investigated cookbooks, and came up with a cooking class schedule. She also bit the bullet and bought a large refrigerator for the back room. If they were going to sell perishables, she would need a place to store them.

      She drove to the small print shop her mother had recommended and ordered flyers, copies of recipes, raffle tickets, and discussed the cost of getting custom-screened aprons with the store’s logo. At quarter to five, she returned to the store to find Violet laying printouts of an initial web design on the counter.

      “He was bored,” Violet said cheerfully. “I love it when that happens. He threw this together in about an hour and I have to say I think it’s great.”

      Jenna bent over the different pages. The design was clean, the colors bright. On the side and top were navigation buttons for recipes, cookware, gadgets and more.

      They played with the design and made a few changes.

      “What about this?” Violet asked. “Move this button here?” She’d barely finished speaking when her stomach growled.

      Jenna stared at her. “Didn’t you stop for lunch?”

      “No. I was busy.”

      Jenna stacked the papers together. “We’ll finish this tomorrow. You’ve already put in a full day. You need to eat. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Violet hesitated. “Want to get a margarita at Dos Salsas?”

      The invitation was unexpected. Jenna instantly felt both awkward and shy. It had been years since she’d made a new friend, she thought. Most of the people she worked with in restaurants were guys, and the friends in her life had all been Aaron’s. She certainly hadn’t kept in touch with her friends from here—her uncomfortable coffee date had proven that.

      She wanted to say it was their fault, but she hadn’t called, either. The question was why. Another area that required self-exploration, she told herself. Why had meeting Aaron and getting involved with him changed her so much? It was like he was a star in the heavens and she was simply a circling planet.

      “It wasn’t supposed to be a hard question,” Violet said quietly. “It’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Nothing on the other woman’s face gave away what she was thinking, but Jenna knew she’d hurt her.

      “No, wait. I’d love to get a margarita.”

      “You don’t have to.”

      “I want to. I got caught up in thinking about my ex. Don’t ask me how. Sometimes my brain is a scary place.”

      “Mine, too.” Violet smiled. “Let’s go.”

      “I swear, if you can figure out what they put in their nachos, I’ll give you my life savings.” Violet grabbed another chip as she spoke.

      Jenna eyed the plate in front of them, then smiled. “How much do you have in your savings?”

      Violet laughed. “Not much, but there would be gratitude, too.”

      “Well, if there’s gratitude, how can I say no?”

      “Seriously?” Violet asked. “You could make these?”

      “Sure. Re-creating a recipe isn’t that hard.”

      “Maybe not for you. I’ve tried a couple of times and I can’t do it.”

      “I’ll show you how.”

      Violet looked both pleased and surprised. “That’s really nice of you.”

      “Hardly. You’re saving my business. I seriously owe you.”

      “I’m helping. There’s a difference.”

      Not in this case, Jenna thought, but she wasn’t going to push. She didn’t want to make Violet uncomfortable.

      She took a sip of her margarita and glanced around the bar. It was big and open, with dark wood beams and ceiling fans. There wasn’t a huge crowd yet, but she saw plenty of people and conversation.

      She felt good, she realized. She had a plan to get the store up and running.

      “I like all the changes we’ve come up with,” she said, grabbing another chip. “Now if only I hadn’t screwed up in the first place.”

      “You’re really hard on yourself,” Violet said.

      “No, I’m …” Jenna pressed her lips together. “Maybe I am. An old habit.” She thought about how critical she was of herself. “I wish I could blame my parents, but I can’t.”

      “I know your mom’s great.”

      “My dad’s just as supportive. I didn’t grow up feeling like I was always wrong. I was pretty normal.”

      Violet glanced at her. “Tell me what normal is like.”

      “You say that like you don’t know.”

      Violet hesitated. “Everyone’s normal is different. What was yours?”

      Jenna wanted to talk about Violet instead but had the feeling it wasn’t good to push. “Usual high school experience. Some fun, plenty of angst. I went to college, joined a sorority, couldn’t pick a major. Nothing really appealed to me.” She wrinkled her nose. “I got tired of the liberal arts classes. By my second year, I was spending more time in the house kitchen than anywhere else. That summer I had a long talk with my parents about my future. I wasn’t sure what to do.” She smiled. “My dad is the one who suggested culinary school.”

      “Smart man.”

      “He is. I was stunned, but it felt right. I headed off to Dallas and discovered I loved to cook. The classes were great. I stayed an extra semester just so I could learn more. I had several job offers when I graduated. I took one in Phoenix—mostly to live somewhere different. I was working at a restaurant when I met Aaron.”

      “What’s he like?”

      “Charming,” she admitted. “He’s the guy who walks in the room and knows exactly what to say to everyone. He can convince you of anything. I loved being around him, but at the same time when I was with him I felt different. I can’t explain it.”

      Violet picked up her margarita. “Less shiny?”

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