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She’d made it look easy. A carrot slipped out of my grasp as I struggled to master the technique.
Lexie didn’t complain at how long it took me to peel the pile. She and Eric moved through their tasks like a fine-tuned team. They sang along to a music playlist that thankfully didn’t include “Me and Bobby McGee” on repeat.
“Inner City Blues” by Marvin Gaye caught me by surprise. Most of what they listened to was upbeat . . . much like they were. This was a different side of their musical taste. One that I could fit in with.
“Finished.” I held up a peeled carrot.
“Perfect timing.” Lexie gathered a bundle and took it back to where she had been working. She chopped the vegetables with precision, then tossed them in a pot she had heating on the stove.
Neither of them referred to any notes or recipes. They knew the measurements and ingredients by heart.
“How long have you been doing this?” I gathered the carrot peels to toss in the trash.
“No. Wait.”
I froze.
“We can use those,” Lexie said. She pulled out a baking sheet and lined it with parchment paper.
“In the dog food?” Why did I peel them if she was just going to add them back in?
“We could. Put them here.” She pointed to the baking sheet. “We’re going to make snacks for us.”
I stared incredulously as she drizzled olive oil and an array of spices on the pile before tossing it. Eric helped her spread the peels into a thin layer.
“You eat those?” I had my doubts. Serious ones.
“We make awesome strawberry ice cream, don’t we?” she challenged.
I couldn’t very well argue with that point. “You do.”
“Wait until you taste these babies.” She tilted her head. “It’s not strawberry ice cream, but for healthy food, it’s the bomb.”
“Dot com,” Eric finished.
“I have no idea what that means.” I shrugged.
“You will soon enough.” She surveyed the space. “All of this is trash.” She waved her hand over the counter. “There’s some cleaner and paper towels in that storage locker.”
I followed her gaze with mine before I set to work. Once I’d cleaned, they set up jars, lids, and labels.
“Where do you keep all of this?” There was enough to fill their home refrigerator easily.
“Here. The morning shift people don’t mind if we use their space because we pick it up before they get here.” She sat on one of the stools.
I checked my watch. It was nearly ten. “What time do you arrive?”
“Six thirty.” She spoke simply as if it were no major issue.
I had usually been to work for a couple hours by then, but I wasn’t most people. These two had an admirable work ethic and seemed to manage to have a life outside of their business . . . something I hadn’t been able to accomplish.
Eric placed the tray of carrot peels in the oven when the ready light lit.
“Teague said you specialize the dog food according to breed.” I leaned against the counter.
Lexie straightened. “We do.”
“We’re making the base now,” Eric said.
