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Patrick’s eyes met mine. “He’s her brother.”
Chapter Five
Trish
“Tell me all the things.”
Gemma studied an eggplant carefully before putting it in her basket.
“It’s a lot.” Something about saying that out loud felt like a weight off. “I couldn’t be doing any of this without you.”
I fussed with Ella’s stroller. Somehow, she was sleeping despite all the noise of the farmers’ market.
Gemma stopped scrutinizing vegetables and looked at me. “You could.”
I appreciated her confidence in me, but if it weren’t for her, I’d likely still be spending my days hiding away at Paths of Purpose. There were times I wanted to do that, but building a future for Ella and having something to work toward was more fulfilling than I’d realized it would be. I’d had nothing for so long. This dream was overwhelming sometimes, but it was mine. How could I properly thank Gemma for giving me that?
“How are you balancing time with the little one?”
This was one of the things I loved about Gemma. She was kind, but she didn’t waste time. When I was with her, we accomplished a lot.
I glanced down at my daughter. “We’re making it. She’s with me in the kitchen all morning while I prep the food. She stays in the daycare at Paths until I get home. And we spend Sundays together.”
I felt guilty for the hours apart, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make because in the big picture, this was all for Ella.
Gemma made a satisfied grunt. “Is the kitchen at Paths still working out for your food prep?”
I picked up a pear. This would be nice as a sweet side dish. “It’s great. That kitchen is huge. There’s plenty of room for Miss Nece and me to work together. Eventually, I may need my own space and more help, but for now, it’s perfect.”
She’d suggested using the kitchen at Paths almost as if she’d intuitively known I didn’t stray far from the shelter. Until she’d shown me Delores the first time, I hadn’t set foot out of the safety of Paths since Ella and I had arrived. I was eager to be out in the world again and scared at the same time.
But hiding away was really no different than what I’d been through in the years before I’d been rescued. Only I’d made the choice to do so at Paths. That wasn’t how I wanted to spend my life. And it wasn’t what I wanted to teach my daughter. So here I was, pretending I knew what I was doing out in the real world when I didn’t have a clue. I’d figure it out.
“I’m expanding my own prep kitchen, so when you need to grow, you’re more than welcome to use it.”
I gaped at her. She’d been so generous with her time, her money, her experience, and her resources. Even though she’d been this way from the time we first spoke after her presentation at Paths, it never ceased to astound me.
She had her own chain of food trucks in the surrounding tri-state area that was growing at a rapid pace, yet she always made time for me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For everything.” My eyes stung, but I focused on the display of fruit in front of me. I cleared my throat and attempted to get back to business. “The vendors you set me up with have been a dream to work with too.”
She grinned. “You should’ve seen me with my first truck. I came here every day to select vegetables for quality and freshness, but it took so much time.” She picked up a few onions and set them aside. “Once Pop caught on, he set me up with ordering, and I never looked back.”
“Where is he today?” I looked around for the man who ran the largest stand at this farmers’ market.
She shrugged. “Not sure. I wondered why it was so quiet around here.”
“He delivered my things himself the other day and said he handpicks everything for me.” I smiled to myself. It was as if kindness was contagious. “And Mrs. Quinn switched over to Pop as our vendor at Paths too.”
“He’s a good man. Did I tell you he was how I found Hartford Ranch?”
I nodded. The ranch specialized in raising animals in a humane and natural environment. Gemma had instilled in me the importance of quality from farm to plate. It was a value we shared now, and the meat from Hartford Ranch was one of the reasons my food truck was so successful. In a city that raced at the pace of New York, fast food often substituted for much-needed vitamins and minerals. I wanted people to eat well. It was another thing stripped from me . . .
“I hope to visit there someday. Maybe when Ella is a little older and can enjoy it.” And we won’t have to hide. Which was absurd, considering operating a food truck was a risk in and of itself. We were probably a lot safer visiting a ranch than serving the public in New York City. My hope was that hiding in plain sight in a city of millions would keep me concealed.
“Let me know when you can work it out, and I’ll tag along.” Gemma handed her stuffed basket to the cashier.
“How do you do it?” I asked.
