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up on the latest happenings because he thought of us as his family.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m starving, and no wonder. Look at the time. It’s already after noon. Let’s go down to the cafeteria. The food’s quite good, but then it should be, right?”
    The morning had flown by. As they took their trays and made their way to a table in front of the windows, Peyton noticed heads turning and conversations becoming more hushed.
    She set her bowl of vegetable soup and cup of hot tea on the table. Mimi commented that she’d forgotten utensils for her salad, but before she could get up, Peyton handed her a fork and an extra napkin.
    “Thanks,” Mimi said. She studied Peyton for a long minute and then said, “You know, if you don’t like working for Drew, or if you decide you don’t want to be a food critic, there are a couple of other positions available. Bridget could help you . . . if you decide . . .”
    “I’m not so sure Bridget would help me. She doesn’t seem to like me. Neither do any of the other women here. Have you noticed, Mimi? Look around the cafeteria. Most of the women are glaring at me.”
    Mimi laughed. “The last trainee left a sour taste in their mouths, I guess. Don’t let it bother you. They’ll get used to you. I notice the men are all smiling at you.”
    Peyton looked around the room. Mimi was right. Several men were smiling at her. “That’s kind of creepy, too,” she whispered.
    “Don’t pay attention to them,” Mimi suggested. “Tell me about yourself. Any sisters or brothers? What’s Texas like? I’ve never been south of Minneapolis. I always wanted to see the world, but my husband, Don—my ex-husband—didn’t want to travel.”
    It soon became apparent that Peyton was proud of her state. She bragged about all it had to offer. “I could go on and on. Texas really does have everything you could ever want.”
    “What about your family?”
    “I have two sisters,” Peyton told her. “Lucy is two years older. She’s an interior designer and really creative. She would like to start her own business, but in this economy it’s tough. Ivy is the youngest. She’s a senior at the University of Texas. She’s doing her student teaching now and wants to teach kindergarten. She loves children, and of the three of us, she’s the most patient.”
    “Are your parents still alive?”
    “Yes, and still living in the house they bought over twenty-some years ago. Okay, now it’s my turn, Mimi. Tell me about your family.”
    “Not much to tell,” she said as she stabbed a leaf of spinach. “I have two younger brothers. They’re both married and living in Minneapolis. No nieces or nephews, sorry to say. After college I married the only man I ever dated. We lasted almost twenty-five years.”
    “Twenty-five years,” Peyton repeated. “That’s a long time. You don’t look old enough to have been married that long.”
    Mimi smiled at the compliment. “I’m old enough to be your mother.” Her expression changed and she looked out the window. Peyton noticed a hint of sadness in Mimi’s eyes as she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Don and I never had any children.”
    They continued to talk about their backgrounds while they ate, and after lunch Mimi walked Peyton back to her desk and handed her the company manual. She opened the two-hundred-page volume and began reading all about
The Bountiful Table.
The material wasn’t what she would call riveting, and Peyton did a fair amount of yawning and daydreaming.
    Occasionally, Mimi would check on her. Once, on her way back from the printer, she stopped at Peyton’s desk and in a low whisper said, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know that, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” she answered, perplexed by the odd question. “Why—”
    Bridget interrupted when she called Mimi’s name from across the room. “I’ll explain later,” Mimi said, patting Peyton’s shoulder and then hurrying