when there are hard-to-find ingredients. I could special order items. Although some of them do require refrigeration.”
“If they have a limited shelf life, we can tell people they have to preorder. Then they can stop by, pick up the food and then go home and cook it.” Violet straightened in her chair. “We could do classes on cooking for company. A few impressive-looking but easy-to-prepare meals. After the class, people could give us a few days’ notice and come by to pick up all the ingredients, then go home and make the meal.”
“That sounds like fun,” Jenna said. In the past she’d always cooked what interested her, but maybe she could think about what other people would enjoy, as well. She might not think appetizers were that compelling, but then she wasn’t hosting a cocktail party for twenty.
And speaking of cocktails … “What about a bartender?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What if we had a bartender come in and show how to mix different drinks?” She frowned. “That might require a liquor license. But maybe we could set up something with one of the local restaurants around here. All those fancy drinks can seem intimidating.”
Now Violet was taking notes. “I like that. It would bring in a younger crowd. Not that I don’t love the ladies who lunch.”
“They do have money.” Jenna thought about her friends. Okay, not friends, but still. They were a potential customer group. “Mothers,” she said slowly. “What can we do with them?”
“Healthy, organic cooking,” Violet said immediately. “Maybe classes on baby food or what to feed toddlers. Remember that cookbook on burying vegetables into regular food? Something like that.”
“I 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
