Page 278 of A Taste of Vanilla

My hand tightens on the spatula. “Then I still need a life here.”

I have Marley. I have things I still want to do here. It may be painful, but I’m done running away from things.

“You should tell Marley that,” he says. “She needs to know you’re not running from her, too.”

Sadness settles inside me. “I’ll tell her.”

At three, we build the final schedule. She sits beside me at the prep table, close enough that her shirt brushes my arm when she reaches for the marker.

Dance Badly if Alive,she adds.

I look at it.

“It’s spiritually required,” she says softly.

I take the marker and draw a little checkbox next to it.

Halston presses her hands over her face, and her shoulders shake. For one moment, I think she’s laughing.

She’s not.

Marley goes still, and Oliver narrows his eyes.

Halston drops her hands, but she looks more overwhelmedthan sad. “I’m fine,” she says, but I don’t think anyone believes her.

By four, we have our final relaunch system. Not mine, not hers. Ours, in the safest way possible: Halston’s menu, brand, and choices. My support.

The page in my notebook includes three important lists:

Production schedule

Prep assignments

Things Halston is Allowed to Change Last Minute Because Apparently Joy Requires Chaos

Halston takes a photo as evidence.

When thingsslow down, Halston tells me she wants me at the reopening.

I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.

twenty-seven

. . .

No Sports, Just Revenue

HALSTON

There’sa line outside of Bitter Bloom.

A real line.

Not just Mrs. Alvarez and two neighbors standing around the chalkboard. A line down the sidewalk, past Saints & Sinners, and around the corner far enough that Oliver steps outside, stares at it, and says, “Absolutely not.”

Marley, who is already filming him, zooms in on his face. “Can you say that again, but with more despair?”

Oliver turns slowly. “This is private property.”