Chapter One
Melanie Carter glanced up from the tray of diced carrots she was removing from the commercial freeze-dryer in her test kitchen as her friend and co-worker, Abigail Lindstrom walked in, hanging up her sweater and pulling on an apron and a baseball cap to keep her hair from getting into the food. “Hey! I just finished another round of carrots. I really want to use them in the split pea soup recipe we’re working on today.”
Abigail nodded. “I agree with that. And we’re doing barley, right?”
“I think so. I think this is going to be a recipe I want to share on the website for Melanie’s Meals, so people can make the mix themselves, but it would also be fun to produce it for people to buy in all the standard quantities of course.”
“Are we doing meat in it? Or suggesting people add meat when they cook it?”
Melanie pursed her lips, thinking more about it. She’d been debating that particular thing for days. “I think we have enough protein in the other ingredients. If people feel like they want meat to go into it, they can add that themselves. I guess we could make one with TVP, but you know how I feel about soy.” She shuddered delicately.
Abigail laughed. “Not everyone in the world is allergic to soy like you are, but I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone. We’ll play with it and see what we think. And yes, I’ll fall on the sword and try the ones with TVP.” Texturized vegetable protein or TVP was something Melanie hated using, going so far as to never use it in the mixes she put up for sale, but they could make the recipe so people could use it if they wanted.
“I have some fresh from the freeze-dryer carrots and some split peas. I figured we’d use some of our bouillon, the low-sodium kind.”
"Only one way to find out how that will turn out," Abigail said, already bustling around the kitchen, gathering pots and tools with the ease of someone who had spent countless hours in this space, transforming raw ingredients into magic.
Melanie joined in, her movements synchronized with Abigail's. They were two halves of a well-oiled machine. Every recipe was an adventure. Melanie couldn’t imagine spending this much time with anyone other than Abigail.
As the soup began to simmer, filling the room with its hearty aroma, Melanie found herself hopeful. She glanced at Abigail, whose passion for culinary innovation knew no bounds, and felt a surge of gratitude for the friend who stood by her side, through thick and thin, purees and broths.
"All right, chef, let's make some magic," Melanie said, a spark of excitement igniting within her as they embarked on their latest gastronomic venture together.
Within a few hours, they had four burners going on their commercial stove, each of them with a different recipe for split pea soup. One had the full salt version of bouillon, another had the low salt, another was completely salt-free and the fourth had double the ham. Melanie hovered over the stove, absently stirring the split pea soup while lost in thought. The spoon moved in lazy circles, barely disturbing the surface. She was a portrait of distraction, her usually keen eyes staring through the rising steam as if it held life's answers.
"Earth to Melanie," Abigail said, snapping her fingers to recapture her friend's attention. "You've been quiet since I walked in. Even for a Tuesday, this is not your usual spark. What's up?"
Melanie set the wooden spoon down, leaning back against the counter with a soft sigh. Her gaze finally settled on Abigail, the corners of her mouth turned down in a rare display of vulnerability.
"Abby, I'm just... overwhelmed." The words came out in a rush, like a dam breaking. "Between managing the plant, developing new recipes, and dealing with suppliers, there's no time left for me. For...finding someone." Melanie shook her head. “I have so little downtime, but when I do have some, I wish there was someone beside me, you know? I can delegate so much of what I do to others, as long as I’m willing to watch over everything, but I can’t delegate finding someone to...”
"Someone special, you mean?" Abigail leaned close, her voice dipped in empathy.
"Exactly. It feels like, with Melanie's Meals, I've bitten off more than I can chew," she confessed. "I want to fall in love, have that connection, but my schedule is a puzzle with missing pieces. Trying to coordinate that with someone else's? Might as well solve a jigsaw blindfolded."
"Hey, you're the queen of puzzles," Abigail countered, touching her arm reassuringly. "If anyone can figure it out, it's you."
"I wish it were that simple," Melanie said. "I want more than just a fleeting romance, Abby. I want someone who isn't afraid to get their hands dirty on the farm, who understands the work we do here."
"Then we'll find a way to make space for love in your schedule, Mel. You've built an empire from the ground up; how hard can dating be?"
"Harder than freeze-drying peas, apparently," Melanie quipped. Together, they returned their focus to the simmering pots before them.
Melanie stirred the pot before her, the gentle bubbling of the soup syncing with her thoughts. Abigail leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowing as she watched her friend.
"Mel, you remember my cousin Alexis, right?" Abigail said, breaking the quiet rhythm of the simmering soup. "She got married recently."
Melanie turned, spoon still in hand. "Alexis? Didn’t she end up with a father she knew nothing about and inherited a huge ranch from him?"
"That's the one," Abigail nodded, a mysterious twinkle in her eye. "Well, she did something radical. She met her husband at the altar."
Melanie's eyebrows shot up. "At the altar? Like...no dating, straight to marriage?"
"Exactly!" Abigail exclaimed. "There's this woman with a doctorate in psychology, Dr. Lachele Simpson. She does intense psychological testing and matches people who are compatible. They meet for the first time on their wedding day. It's crazy, but..." She shrugged. "Alexis is happy."
A laugh escaped Melanie's lips, part disbelief, part enchantment. "You're telling me they skipped the whole dating circus? Just...leap of faith, meet at the altar, and say 'I do'?"
"Yep. And they're disgustingly happy."
