Chapter Three
Gloria’s Organic Market had everything a lover of gourmet foods could dream of. It was Molly’s favorite place to shop when she had a special dinner party planned. Located in downtown Goldenhills, in the historic district between the public library and Dr. Laird’s family practice, Gloria’s was always packed with shoppers, no matter the time of day. Crates of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs lined the sidewalk in front of the store. Huge tubs of rosemary flanked the entrance. Molly inhaled the piney, minty scent as she entered the market.
One could find fresh, grass-fed beef, free-range eggs and chickens, and a variety of homemade preserves supplied by local farmers. Spice rubs, salsas, and chutneys, along with an array of homemade breads, muffins, and crackers, crowded the shelves. Gloria’s always had the best bay scallops and cherrystone and littleneck clams in the Boston area. Molly took in the smell of freshly made pesto, which brought a smile to her face; Gloria’s was indeed a smorgasbord for the senses. She reached for a bright-yellow basket from a stack piled neatly at the entrance. Gloria must’ve stripped her basil plants out back in order to make the pesto. The last time Molly was here, the aromatic plants had little spikes of white flowers, indicating they were ready to pick. She spied Gloria at the back of the store behind the large wooden counter. “The pesto smells divine. I’ll have half a pint,” said Molly.
“You want pasta, too? Chelsea made some fresh this morning.”
“You know I do,” she said. “I’ll pick it up on my way out.”
Chelsea, Gloria’s daughter, had inherited her mother’s natural love of cooking and her ability to prepare just about anything connected with the human consumption of food and drink.
Mindlessly, Molly walked up and down the narrow aisles, searching for a new, unique gourmet item, anything to impress Tanner and his guests at tonight’s dinner. She wound her way through the aisles, stopping in the refrigerated section. Glass jars filled with a shrimp-colored liquid caught her attention. Spicy tomato gazpacho with freshly ground horseradish, Gloria’s handwritten label stated, along with a lengthy list of organic ingredients. This would be a perfect start to tonight’s dinner. She placed four jars in her basket, thinking how refreshing it would be, given that it was smack-dab in the middle of summer. They’d had unusually high temperatures this year. A cold soup to start was ideal.
She took three pints of blackberries for the blackberry-rum shrub she planned to make. According to digital drinks.com, this was the hottest drink of the summer. She’d made it last week. It was to-die-for scrumptious, if you could call a drink scrumptious. A bottle of rum and a good balsamic vinegar completed her cocktail ingredients. Molly hoped tonight’s guests were up for her fabulous blackberry concoction.
She bought a dozen and a half fillets of black sea bass for the main course, and fiddlehead ferns as a side dish. She planned a simple Caesar salad, with her special homemade dressing. She usually made this tableside in the formal dining room when she was casually entertaining friends, but tonight she’d prepare it in the kitchen. She didn’t want to embarrass Tanner if she forgot an ingredient or, God forbid, dropped something.
She’d forgo the bread since she planned on serving baguettes with a cheese platter. She’d be serving five cheeses: smoked Gouda, Danish Havarti, pepper jack, a sweet ricotta, and a soft goat cheese. She always liked to add both sweet and dill pickles, three or four varieties of mustards, cappicola ham, and a good salami. She picked up two jars of preserves—apricot and strawberry. To her, this was a meal, but when dealing with such a large group, as she knew from experience, one could never have too much food.
She took a red velvet cake from the enclosed glass case. There wasn’t enough time to make something from scratch.
She finished her shopping and stopped to chat with Gloria before heading to the checkout. “I’ll use the pasta and pesto for tomorrow night’s dinner. I’ve already got enough food here to feed a small army,” she explained, gesturing at the small cart she’d exchanged for the basket she had picked up when she first arrived.
Gloria laughed. “You love every single minute of the prep, right down to the last detail, and don’t try to tell me otherwise. As I’ve said in the past, anytime you want to come and work for me, a job is yours.”
Molly laughed out loud, the sound foreign to her ears. She didn’t have much to laugh about these days. “I don’t think Tanner would approve, but thanks for the offer. I have that fancy kitchen, you know. We just remodeled last fall. I’m still searching for some of my pots and misplaced gadgets.” She and Gloria always made small talk, but other than the fact that they shared a love of cooking and each had a daughter, Molly knew virtually nothing about the woman she’d been acquainted with for at least fifteen years. Looking at her watch, she realized she had lingered much too long. She would need at least three hours to prep and prepare dinner. Maybe she would enlist Kristen’s help tonight, though she felt sure her daughter had other plans. At seventeen, and it being the summer after her senior year, she rarely spent an evening at home. Tomorrow, Kristen would be leaving for Europe, where she and her best friend, Charlotte, would spend the next two months on a bike-and-barge tour. Tanner didn’t approve, but Kristen had begged and pleaded until she got her way. And tomorrow was the big day.
Molly loaded her car with the recyclable bags, careful to arrange them so they didn’t topple over. Once she was satisfied, she closed the door. She didn’t dare store the fish in the trunk.
Driving back to their house on Riverbend Road, she thought back to the day that she’d first laid eyes on Tanner.