Chapter 11

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(Amy)


Amy flipped through the pages of the cookbook again. Watercolor paintings, instead of photographs, depicted the food. All of the recipes were handwritten in beautiful, looping text. It felt as though she was looking through an artist's notebook. It was the cookbook where Aubergine found the recipes for the snack she had made for the calligraphy class. When Amy and the talented artist had looked for the book once the class was over, they discovered someone had bought the last copy. So Aubergine ordered more copies. She called that morning to tell Amy that it had come in.

While she could've just picked up the beautiful book and left, Amy wanted to talk to Aubergine. She was worried about the state of mind of both her and her husband. Since the brightly dressed artist was busy helping a mom choose graphic novels that could help encourage her son to read, Amy was hanging out on a huge beanbag in the reading nook in the back corner of the store. The free-form furniture was surprisingly comfortable as it molded to her body, but she was really wishing she had worn jeans instead of a skirt. Getting up without flashing her undies would be tricky. She flipped through the cookbook again so that she wouldn't stress out pondering the logistics of getting to her feet without losing her dignity. A good recipe was a wonderful distraction.

"So what do you think of the cookbook?" Aubergine asked.

Amy flinched. She had been so engrossed in studying the recipes for things like wild mushroom frittata and sweet potato veggie burgers that she hadn't noticed Aubergine approaching the reading area. There was nothing like a little, innocent scare to increase her heart rate. A good warm-up for what she was doing next, heading to Yoga For You for an afternoon energy recharge class. All of the other yoga classes she had taken made her feel mellow and relaxed. So she was curious, and a bit apprehensive, about what would happen in this class. What kind of positions produced the opposite effect of what she was used to?

"I love it. Thank you so much for ordering it for me."

Aubergine shrugged. "You're welcome. I got a couple more copies to keep in stock too. When I fall in love with a book, I recommend it to customers and try to keep copies on the shelves. I'm not much of a cook, so I don't own a lot of cookbooks, but I really liked that one. Maybe it isn't so great to someone like you though."

"It's unique in both its appearance and the recipes inside. I'd say you have very good cookbook selection instincts." Amy set the book on the rug. Then she channeled every ounce of yoga grace she had absorbed over the past year and used it to remove herself from the squishy furniture lump. The extraction maneuver wasn't pretty, but it worked. When she was standing with her lilac-colored skirt properly arranged, Amy pointed at the candy bowl sitting on a nearby table. The ceramic dish was ringed with painted panes from a comic book scene. "Where did you get that bowl? It's so fun."

"I made it at Make It Unique." One side of Aubergine's mouth crooked up in a half-smile. "I went in to pick it up when Phoebe was there throwing a hissy fit."

The air whooshed out of Amy's lungs as she folded herself in half to pick up the book from the floor. She straightened. There was a tribal drumbeat from her heart thumping in her ears. It was Morse code to her brain—pay attention. "I've heard a little bit about what happened but not many details. From what I've heard, I'm still baffled about why she was so angry."

"It didn't make much sense even when I witnessed it in person." Aubergine tugged on one of her eggplant-purple curls. "She was picking out glaze colors when I got there. I was chatting with that lady with the awesome gray hair who makes some of the pottery. Suddenly, Phoebe started screaming that she needed the platter the next day instead of in a week. Tommy was really calm and explained that the glazes needed to be fired in the kiln. Since there was no way to get things done sooner, Tommy suggested that maybe Phoebe would like to look at some of the finished pieces that were being offered for sale by students."

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