Alchemy and Algebra

Chapter 13

The following Saturday, Kennedy walked hand-in-hand with Charlie through the farmer's market. It was the peak of the harvest season and the market was bustling. Long rows of tables were covered with nearly every imaginable variety of vegetables and fruits, as well as crafts, jams, flowers, and baked goods. What the late afternoon sunshine lacked in warmth it made up for in enthusiasm, tinting the world golden and somehow darkening the blue of the clear sky.

Kennedy was on edge.

"This just doesn't seem right. How can we know what we're shopping for if we don't know what we're making for dinner?" she asked.

"That's the whole point. We wander, we smell, we thump the squashes. We pick what looks good and then figure out what to do with it later," Charlie reassured her. "This is about exploration and a bit of adventure, not just robotically picking things off a shelf."

"But what if we don't have all the ingredients to make the dish we choose?"

Charlie set an enormous apple in her palm. "We'll make do, or make a new plan. We can invent a way to cook it on the spot."

Kennedy brought the apple to her nose. There was nothing like the smell of a fresh-picked apple, sweet and tang and floral. She picked up one more and payed the crinkle-eyed woman at the cash box, then tucked the fruit in her market bag.

"There's so much to choose from. We could have a different dinner every night for a month with what's in this aisle alone. We could be here all day without finding what we like best. And what if we don't agree?"

"Having two things on your plate at dinner isn't unheard of, you know."

Charlie's patience was starting to wear out, Kennedy suspected. She shouldn't have agreed to this experiment. It just highlighted yet another way they approached the world from opposite ends of the spectrum. They strolled along the aisle between the tables in silence.

Kennedy's mood lifted when she caught the unmistakable smell of something dark and delicious. Someone in the market was roasting coffee beans and Kennedy was hit with a determination to find them.

"Do you smell that? I think it's coming from this way."

Kennedy pulled Charlie to the end of the aisle, dodging slow-moving shoppers. One aisle over, she found the stall she was looking for. It turned out not to be a stall after all, but a small food truck with a giant plastic coffee bean perched on the roof.

"Doesn't it smell wonderful? There's nothing like freshly roasted coffee. It's not easy to find."

Charlie's smile grew more smug as she spoke. She squinted at him. "This isn't a victory for you. This is coffee for me. No more than that."

"Yes, dear," he murmured.

Kennedy stood in the short line, then ordered a half-pound of medium-dark beans and waited while the man ground the beans for her. Rather than tucking the paper sack, still warm from the roasting process, into her market bag, she carried them in front of her, happily sniffing at it from time to time.

"Good find?" Charlie asked.

"Excellent."

"So you're happy you went exploring past the end of the first aisle?"

"Yes..." she answered, growing increasingly suspicious about this line of questioning.

Charlie looped an arm through hers. "So let me line all this up. You didn't see the point in going beyond one aisle, then you did anyways to humor me. Thank you, by the way. Then you found something you like so much you don't want to put it down. Is that how it went?"