29. Chapter 29

Chapter twenty-nine

Fenella

A fter lunch with Silas, I go back to work.

I don't know what it is about him that lets me say whatever I'm thinking. Or feeling. And I never worry about him judging me or thinking less of me.

I can really be myself with him.

I make it to late afternoon, and when I finally lock the door behind me, I can barely walk. Cleaning is hard and my body isn't used to it.

Tomorrow might be rough.

Tonight might be rough, too. When I make it across the square—no longer striding merrily—and up the stairs to Edie's apartment, the rumble in my stomach tells me I need food.

Only there's not a lot of food in the apartment.

I take a handful of crackers and have a quick shower before I head out to the store.

"I'm going for supplies," I tell Ernie. "I'll bring you back something delicious. "

It's another first: I've never been grocery shopping in my life.

I've picked up snacks at a Mini-Mart and I'm quite familiar with the various stores where one can purchase alcohol and wine around the world, but I've never pushed a cart around a Food Mart.

I don't even know where to start.

I live at home where there are housekeepers who do this sort of thing—Ada in Los Angeles, Annie in London, and Blossom who makes the best hot bakes in St. Lucia. As far as I know, my mother has never stepped foot in Whole Foods since she married my father.

She had a life before they married, but she never talked about it. Never even alludes to it by mentioning old memories or telling us stories about her younger years. It's like she hatched, perfectly formed, into Adelaide Carrington when she was twenty-four.

She was younger than I am now when she met and married my father. That fun fact always makes me cringe when I think about it, which I do my best not to.

I try not to think about my mother much at all, and the fact that she comes up so often in my internal thoughts really irks me.

I am irked as I push my cart through the aisles of the Food Mart. Because I can hear my mother's slightly patronizing voice in my head, plus I have no idea what food to buy. And I need some sort of food. I can live on take-out for months at a time, but not when there is no Uber Eats in Battle Harbour and only four establishments that let you leave with food.

If I'm going to live on my own, I need to have food in the apartment. If not for me, then at least Ernie the cat.

I stop in the middle of the cookie aisle with a thought: Even if I have food in the apartment, what am I going to do with it?

I can't cook.

My mother never saw fit to ensure I had some of the basic life skills, like boiling water and turning on an oven. In fact, she made it clear to Ada, Annie, and Blossom, that both Ashton and I were never allowed in the kitchen.

I've never understood why, and neither did Blossom, because we had a conversation about it once when she was making me my fresh pineapple juice.

There were always meals available for me at any time of the day, and a pantry full of snacks. There are plenty of snacks in the store, but I can't live on them.

Maybe I can find some ready-made food. I wheel my cart around to the produce section because that seems like a logical place to start.

Jackpot.

I find pizza and chicken tenders and a container of macaroni and cheese that seems a little congealed but looks edible. There are bowls of salads and cups of cut-up fruits and vegetables and I pile it all in my cart.

"Are you having a party and haven't told me? "

I look up with surprise to find Silas beside me with his own cart. Unlike mine, his is full of reusable mesh bags holding brightly coloured fruits and vegetables—not the pre-cut kind—and a sheaf of green leaves that I suspect is kale.

And then I stop investigating his cart and look at Silas. "Hi."

"Fancy meeting you here," he says with a chuckle. "This might be the last place I'd expect to see you."

Silas Bell has a very pleasing mouth. Lips that are not too full, not too thin, but are just right, much like Goldilock's porridge. Wide, but not too big. Teeth that might have benefitted from an extra few trips to the orthodontist and a pack of Crest Whitening Strips but seem perfect to me.

There is nothing about Silas that I don't like, and I usually find something that I don't like.

This scares me almost out of the store.

"I thought the last place would be cleaning a bathroom," I say instead of making a run for it.

Even after a shower, I can't get the smell of the cleaning products off my hands. I added extra moisturizer as well. "I ate all of Edie's crackers and need to find food," I tell him. "Is this what happens in small towns? You bump into people at the grocery store? Because I've never found a friend at Whole Foods."

Silas narrows his eyes. "And how often do you go to Whole Foods?"

"Not very often," I admit. "But look at me. I'm shopping. "

He glances down at my selection. "For yourself or the entire town? Because you're not going to be able to eat all that yourself before it goes bad."

I never thought of that. Food only lasts so long. I can always stop here before every meal but that seems like it would be a pain.

"I never like coming here when I'm hungry because I end up buying too much, or stuff that's bad for me," he says.

I wonder what Silas would consider bad for him.

"It's not that I'm hungry—well, I guess I am—but I don't know what to get. What are you buying?"

He gestures to the cart. "I'm making kale and bean soup."

"Sounds good." I'm not sure about the soup, but who knows? Ada has made stranger things.

"Do you know how to cook, Fenella?" Silas asks. He looks like he already knows the answer.

"Not really, no."

He reaches in to take the tenders out of my cart. "They're not good after tomorrow, so I wouldn't eat them. Want me to make you dinner? Teach you a few things along the way?"

He says this without an ounce of patronizing or like he's criticizing.

"Are you serious?"

"About the best before date? Look." He hands me the package.

"No, about teaching me to cook. "

"Depends on what you want to cook. I'm okay, but I'm no Michelin-starred chef."

"You know about Michelin stars?"

Silas grins, the relaxed one he uses when he likes someone. A warmth starts in my stomach at the thought of being one of those people. "I watch The Bear."

Because of that warmth, my smile isn't as easy but it gets there, and it's real. "It's a good show. He's really sweet."

If I wasn't watching him I wouldn't have noticed the flash of resignation across his face. "You know Jeremy Allen White, don't you?"

"I've met him a few times," I admit, feeling funny about the confession. My life is all about who you know, but here? Not so much.

"Is there anyone you don't know?"

I glance around. "I don't know the owner of this store, or I would tell him he's got expired food here."

Silas laughs and wheels his cart around. "Let's find you some real food."