I looked up at the sky. The blue hue of twilight created a stark contrast with the dying leaves and dark evergreens. It felt good to be sitting outside in the crisp November dusk. “They’ve made a lot of improvements,” I said as I unfolded a paper napkin and placed it on my lap. I pointed to the aluminum-sided structure. “What’s that new building?”
“Part of it is our communal area where we can gather in bad weather, but most of it’s the”—he made quotation marks at the sides of his head with his fingers—“meditation center.” He was quiet as he cut into his lasagna. “I don’t know what they actually do in there, since I’m not allowed to go in.” He speared the fork into the pasta and shoved it into his mouth, looking longingly at the building.
I placed my hand on his arm. “Aw, honey.”
He chewed and shrugged. “I don’t care. But this”—he pointed his fork at the pasta—“is delicious.” He put another morsel into his mouth.
After swallowing a crunchy piece of romaine lettuce covered in Caesar dressing and grated Parmesan, I asked, “And they now have electricity?”
Trey nodded. “Only in the new building and some of the cabins. There are a couple of computers in the communal center, too. And a flat-screen TV.”
“Wow.” I savored a bite of lasagna. There was just enough garlic and basil to harmonize with the tomato sauce and melted cheeses, and the homemade pasta was a perfect texture. “Whatever happened to simple living? To the co-op being entirely human-powered? And how are they paying for all this? Is the market for goat and hemp products that lucrative?”
“Not that I know of. We’re still getting the same prices for our stuff that we did when I first came here. And our yield isn’t any greater.” He put his fork down. “I don’t know where the extra money is coming from, unless it’s the meditation sessions. But the only people who come for those are college kids, and they can’t pay that kind of money, can they?”
He seemed sincerely baffled, and I didn’t know how to answer. The situation seemed at odds with everything I’d understood about the co-op. I had to admit, however, that observing the recent changes lit a spark of hope in my heart that Trey would become disillusioned enough by it that he’d decide to attend college after all. “I don’t know, honey. I—”
“Hey, dude,” a voice interrupted. “That smells, like, totally awesome. Got enough for us?”
The young man I’d seen in Espresso Yourself who’d been wearing the blue and green ski hat and who had shouted about a giant banana stood at the end of our table, the braided tails of his hat’s ear flaps dangling over our supper. His friend, the girl with the star tattoos on her neck, had her arm in the crook of his elbow. Behind them stood another older teen, spiked hair dyed a fluorescent blue.
I smiled apologetically at them. “Sorry, I only brought enough for the two of us.” I waved my hand in the direction of my Vespa. “But I rode in on my big banana over there.”
“Huh?” The teen with the ski hat looked at the scooter and then at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw you in the coffee shop earlier, and you called my scooter a banana.”
“I did not. I have no idea what you’re talking about, lady.”
The girl pulled on his arm. “Come on, Dex, let’s go.”
Dex freed his arm and looked at Trey. “You’re, like, the goat dude, aren’t you? Your name’s Trey?”
Trey nodded and pointed to the meditation center. “What exactly do you guys do in there? Were you meditating just now?”
He grinned. “Naw, not this time. We were just getting our groove on with a little—”
“Okay, guests, time to go. You know the agreement. Once it’s suppertime at the co-op you’ve got to be out of here.” Jasper Gyles, the leader of the Red Fox Co-op, approached our table with his sister, Iris, who looked as beautiful and ethereal as always.
In the manner of a shepherd herding his flock, Jasper directed the three teens toward the red Honda. I watched them, pondering the change in Jasper. Upon first meeting Jasper at the beginning of the summer, Trey had remarked that the co-op leader, who had bright blue eyes, a brown beard, and long wavy hair, bore a close resemblance to Jesus. But Jasper was beardless, wore his hair short, and was dressed in tidy jeans and an expensive leather jacket.
I turned back to the table. Iris was sitting beside Trey, nudged in close. Noticing me observing, Trey blushed and offered her the remainder of his salad. She shook her head, briefly touching his arm, then said to me, “Nice to see you again, Ms. Wilkins.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Iris. Would you like a biscotti?” I opened the container of crunchy, sweet almond biscuits. Trey reached out and took one. Iris shook her head.
“No, thank you.”
“I see some changes here at the co-op,” I said, taking a cookie and wishing I had a coffee to dip it in. “Are you pleased with the new direction?”
Before Iris could respond, Jasper appeared behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. I noticed his fingers press into her flesh and she stiffened in response. “Ms. Wilkins,” he said with a generous smile. “Welcome.”