she wondered for a moment why no one had told her Redwood Cove had been invaded by aliens until the mists shifted and revealed, clearly, a gigantic elephant seal. Curling its head back and raising its massive whiskered jowls to the sky it bellowed again, an amazingly loud sound even given his hulking body. Lila brought her hand to her heart and laughed at the sight, so fearless and proud yet hilariously silly all at once. Three smaller seals clustered among rocks by his side and another was making his way across a sandy patch with the most awkward lumbering lurches. Lila had to wonder if they were caught in the midst of some evolutionary gap between sea monster and Bernese Mountain dog; they didn’t seem to have the whole getting-around-on-land thing down yet.
A trail led off to the left and she gave it a good look, wondering if she could take it. Narrow and serving as a sluice for mud, she realized she needed to wait until the rains really subsided. Then there’d be no stopping her.
Turning around, Lila doubled back on the paved path, looking forward to telling Gram about her encounter. It was Sunday, their day to talk, and she had a feeling Gram would get a kick out of hearing about a family of elephant seals. Plus, she wanted to tell her about her and Annie’s new plan to take over the world of coffeeshops—or coffee/wine/chocolate/pastry/bagel/soup shops.
“Soup!” Lila exclaimed, stopping for a moment. They had to have soup in the café, too. She could be the Soupmaster! Could she get business cards made up with that title? Realizing she was standing gesturing and talking to herself, she picked up running once again, thankful the February seven AM Redwood Cove crowd consisted of just a few dog walkers. Picking up the pace, she eagerly headed back to town so she could share her new inspiration with Gram and Annie.
* * *
For a tiny town, Redwood Cove was blessed with a small but impressively well-stocked gourmet market catering to all of the San Francisco tourists. Lila had instantly become a devotee, stopping by almost every day to shop for her nightly meal. It made her feel Parisian, popping by the grocer’s to visit with the produce and select one, perfect pomegranate or apple or whatever caught her fancy. Maybe when the rains slowed she’d get a big, old bicycle with a basket on the front. She could ride around with a baguette sticking out of it.
Paper hearts dangled over the produce section, courtesy of the local elementary school’s third graders. It was Valentine’s Day. A big night for soup! Lila thought, mentally rubbing her hands together in excitement. She could go with a red theme and make it tomato-based, maybe a simple creamy tomato with a little basil? Or maybe she could head South of the border and give it some corn and cilantro?
Selecting the ripest avocado—and deciding on Mexican—she thought of her roommates back in SF and how they might be spending their lunch hour this Valentine’s Day. Valeria was probably getting a bikini wax, full Brazilian. Venice always complained about how red she got after a wax, so she’d probably taken care of hers a couple of days ago and today was doing a last-minute run to the lingerie boutique to pick up a tiny, expensive scrap of something that a drunken hook-up could tear off later. Lila bet they’d found a replacement roommate by now and probably couldn’t remember her name if dared to do it. Then again, they did love dares and if competing against each other they might come up with it. “Was she the pale one?” Valeria might ask, scrunching up her nose and searching her memory.
Back in SF, Valentine’s Day had been a source of torture and pain. For weeks leading up to the day she’d hope and read into Phillip’s casual conversation. One year, when he’d made a point of telling her the details of his month’s travel schedule she was sure he was
A trail led off to the left and she gave it a good look, wondering if she could take it. Narrow and serving as a sluice for mud, she realized she needed to wait until the rains really subsided. Then there’d be no stopping her.
Turning around, Lila doubled back on the paved path, looking forward to telling Gram about her encounter. It was Sunday, their day to talk, and she had a feeling Gram would get a kick out of hearing about a family of elephant seals. Plus, she wanted to tell her about her and Annie’s new plan to take over the world of coffeeshops—or coffee/wine/chocolate/pastry/bagel/soup shops.
“Soup!” Lila exclaimed, stopping for a moment. They had to have soup in the café, too. She could be the Soupmaster! Could she get business cards made up with that title? Realizing she was standing gesturing and talking to herself, she picked up running once again, thankful the February seven AM Redwood Cove crowd consisted of just a few dog walkers. Picking up the pace, she eagerly headed back to town so she could share her new inspiration with Gram and Annie.
* * *
For a tiny town, Redwood Cove was blessed with a small but impressively well-stocked gourmet market catering to all of the San Francisco tourists. Lila had instantly become a devotee, stopping by almost every day to shop for her nightly meal. It made her feel Parisian, popping by the grocer’s to visit with the produce and select one, perfect pomegranate or apple or whatever caught her fancy. Maybe when the rains slowed she’d get a big, old bicycle with a basket on the front. She could ride around with a baguette sticking out of it.
Paper hearts dangled over the produce section, courtesy of the local elementary school’s third graders. It was Valentine’s Day. A big night for soup! Lila thought, mentally rubbing her hands together in excitement. She could go with a red theme and make it tomato-based, maybe a simple creamy tomato with a little basil? Or maybe she could head South of the border and give it some corn and cilantro?
Selecting the ripest avocado—and deciding on Mexican—she thought of her roommates back in SF and how they might be spending their lunch hour this Valentine’s Day. Valeria was probably getting a bikini wax, full Brazilian. Venice always complained about how red she got after a wax, so she’d probably taken care of hers a couple of days ago and today was doing a last-minute run to the lingerie boutique to pick up a tiny, expensive scrap of something that a drunken hook-up could tear off later. Lila bet they’d found a replacement roommate by now and probably couldn’t remember her name if dared to do it. Then again, they did love dares and if competing against each other they might come up with it. “Was she the pale one?” Valeria might ask, scrunching up her nose and searching her memory.
Back in SF, Valentine’s Day had been a source of torture and pain. For weeks leading up to the day she’d hope and read into Phillip’s casual conversation. One year, when he’d made a point of telling her the details of his month’s travel schedule she was sure he was
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