Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace Read Free Book Online

green vegetables. Now you’re saying some vegetables are bad for me?”
    Aggie finally reclaimed her wandering hand, but her smile indicated she didn’t plan to hold it—or herself—in check for long.
    “Not the vegetables themselves. The way they’re prepared.”
    “What about green bean casserole? Green beans are low in fat, aren’t they?”
    “Yes, they are, but the rest of the casserole’s traditional list of ingredients—French fried onions, sour cream, canned soup, and pre-packaged cheese—certainly aren’t.”
    “What do you suggest as a viable alternative?”
    “Sautéed kale or, my personal favorite, spinach salad.”
    Griffin glanced at the floor director to see if she needed to speed up or stretch for time. He gave her an okay sign, which meant she was right on schedule. While Aggie made small talk, Griffin toasted some almonds, combined them with fresh spinach and dried cranberries, and tossed the ingredients with a light vinegar and oil dressing. Then she plated the dish.
    Aggie grabbed a fork and helped herself to a sample of the finished product. “Mmm,” she said as her eyes rolled back in her head. “Now that’s the best thing I’ve had in my mouth all day. Griffin Sutton, thank you for joining us today.”
    “My pleasure.”
    Aggie turned to the camera. “When we come back, our film critic will review this week’s new offerings. Stay with us.”
    Griffin smiled into the camera until the red light extinguished itself.
    “And we’re out,” the floor director said. “Great job, ladies.”
    Griffin lifted her arms as a technician stepped forward to remove her microphone and battery pack. Tucker handed over her coat and gloves. When she headed for the elevator, Aggie followed her.
    “See you tonight?”
    “My dinner break’s at eight. I’ll see you then.”
    She wondered if Aggie’s invitation came with a two-drink minimum.
    “Let’s go to the store, Tuck,” she said as the elevator doors slid shut. “I need to pick up some sugar.”

    *

    “Are you ready for this?” Jane asked.
    “No, but let’s do it anyway.”
    Rachel and Jane selected a gym located halfway between their respective offices. After perusing the gym’s menu of services, they paid for two basic memberships and signed up for a variety of classes that varied from spinning to yoga to weight training. By the time they were done, their bodies should look like a cross between a cyclist’s, a gymnast’s, and a bodybuilder’s. Sounded painful. Rachel couldn’t wait.
    She and Jane left the safety of the locker room and headed upstairs to find the beginners’ yoga class. Dressed in baggy shorts and loose T-shirts, unlike the spandex-sporting students sharing space with them, they stuck out from the rest of the class. For instance, they referred to themselves as students while their classmates called themselves practitioners. Apparently, yoga was a practice and not an exercise. Who knew?
    They decided to start with yoga first, saving the more difficult classes for later in the week. As far as Rachel could tell, yoga was just stretching and breathing. One she did when she got out of bed each morning, the other she did without even thinking about. How difficult could it be to combine the two?
    Less than five minutes into the class, she had her answer.
    The instructor’s name was Fernanda Gil. A bubbly Brazilian hard body who looked like she weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, she led the class through a brief warm-up.
    “Okay, let’s get the blood flowing and pump some energy into those bodies,” she said brightly. Her Portuguese-accented voice carried throughout the overheated room even without the small microphone clipped to her ear.
    Taking deep breaths, Rachel raised and lowered her arms several times and performed something called a sun salutation. Her muscles responded favorably to the stimulation and Jane unleashed a loud “Ahhh” when her iffy back popped as if Colleen had just spent fifteen minutes