I shook my head. “Actually, it originated in South America.”
“I would rather have a Taco Bell.”
I was getting used to the humor in Truhart. “Keep in mind that it is a very healthy substitution for rice and bread. It contains essential amino acids and even has some level of calcium, phosphorus, and iron. Even better, it is high in protein. You can use it in your salad, as a rice substitute, and even on top of hot soup.”
“I like oyster crackers in my soup.”
I kept my smile planted on my face even though I wanted to scream. I thought the nutrition classes would be the easiest for me. My limited mobility wouldn’t be a factor. And it didn’t take too much change to make a difference in a person’s weight. But it was clear that changing people’s food choices was going to be more difficult than I had previously thought.
“Is that all we can eat?” Flo stared at the food I had placed on the table.
“Yeah, did you even go down the cereal aisle?” said one young mom. “That’s what my kids eat for breakfast and a snack.”
Another woman with five kids spoke up. “This is all fine and nice, but there’s no gourmet chef at home. We eat out a lot. None of these ingredients are on the menu at Lori’s or the Gas ’N’ Go Café.”
I quieted the room before it became a giant whine-fest. “You can still make good choices. Take the bun off the burger, order a baked potato instead of fries.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick with beer,” Joe O’Shea, Marva’s husband, joked.
I had been meaning to talk about alcohol. “Try to limit your alcohol to one drink. And if possible, don’t eat or drink alcohol after seven p.m.”
“Pacific Standard Time?” Joe asked, nudging his friends.
“I can’t get excited over this stuff,” Flo said, pointing to a bag of apples.
I sighed. “Okay, this may not look like your groceries this week, or even next week. But who is willing to make some simple changes for one or two meals? Pick the meal you care least about and make it healthy.”
Heads nodded slowly.
“Breakfast changers, raise your hands.” A half dozen hands went up. I handed them some of the fruit I had bought.
“Eat an egg and a slice of cantaloupe. Skip the juice. Limit the creamer in your coffee. For those who are interested in trying a breakfast smoothie, I will send a recipe.”
“I’m not drinking a green milkshake,” Flo said.
I handed her a bag of lettuce. “Then consider a salad for lunch. Put quinoa or grilled chicken or a boiled egg on it with as many vegetables as you want. Even pumpkin seeds are good in a salad. Top it with a light dressing or a balsamic and oil mixture.”
“I’ll be hungry within an hour,” one of the men said.
“That is why protein is so important. It will keep your hunger at bay,” I promised.
I pointed to a picture of a flank steak. “For dinner, think lean meats and vegetables. Potatoes are all right, but no fries, and hold the sour cream.”
“Can I have two potatoes with butter?”
I ignored his question. “Finally, eight glasses of water a day, folks. Water is a perfect weapon for fighting off the hunger monster that battles inside you. Try it for a week and see how much better you feel. I promise you will have more energy and you will stop craving sweets after just a few days.”
I was going to email my recipes for smoothies, soups, and main courses that would help everyone who took on the challenge.
Elizabeth Lively waited until the last person left before planting herself in front of me. “Are you doing all right?”
I sat down on a folding chair. “Honestly, I am exhausted and it’s barely noon.”
She patted my shoulder. “Hang in there. Just give it time. Baby steps. Think of it as a marathon, not a race.”
If only I could. But that felt like a cop-out. I wanted to attack with strong, clear tactics. Not wait around for people to “think” about making changes.
“Let’s go to Cookee’s. You can talk to Mac about healthy eating. You’ll make his day.”
I could only imagine how that was going to play out. But Elizabeth was excited and I was hungry.
I pulled a poster out of my bag. “Can we put a poster up if we go?”
She reached for it. “I’ll carry it!”
The cold wind hit us as we left the community center. Yesterday’s snow was starting to melt. Elizabeth walked slowly so I could focus on keeping my crutch from skating on icy patches. We passed the bookstore and a Laundromat. A bakery was closed and had a FOR SALE sign in the window. At least there would be no freshly baked breads to tempt my clients. I gazed across the field and saw the ice cream parlor. The weather had grown colder since Monday morning. But the melting snow meant “scooping days” were sure to be back soon.
I vowed to redouble my efforts when the weather heated up.
The tinny sound of a bell on the door rang as we entered the restaurant.
Several customers in the lunch crowd called out when they saw us. I had to grin at the ambience. The diner belonged in a 1950s television show. At the counter were vinyl-covered stools that spun around, and booths lined the front where a long window looked out over Main Street. The Hamilton Beach milkshake machine made even me think about a tall cold one.
Even more retro looking was the cook behind the counter.
Elizabeth introduced me to Mac. He was a large man with a white apron and no hair. “I met you at the meeting.”
I was prepared for more jokes about healthy food and was surprised when we had an engaging conversation about the healthy options Mac had added to the menu since last fall. My flagging spirits rose as I listened to him. If he was cooking vegetarian and vegan dishes, someone in town was eating them.
Elizabeth held up the poster and called across the diner. “Can we put this up somewhere, Corinne?”
“She owns the place,” Mac explained to me. Mac turned his head sideways to read it. “Truly Fit for Truhart—Fitness Classes, Nutrition Counseling, Walking Groups.”
Corinne joined us. Her thin lips turned into a big smile. “Oh, Lily, that poster looks great.”
She pointed where we could put the poster on the front window. “Just put it over there with the rest of the posters. Feel free to take down any of those old notices. I always forget to do that.”
While Elizabeth talked to Corinne, I took the poster and moved to the cork board. A large sign read PETE’S TREATS GRAND OPENING—APRIL 8 AT THE DAIRY COW.
Before anyone noticed, I slapped my poster on top of it. My immature retaliation for his posters at the gym.
Feeling only slightly guilty, I returned to where Elizabeth was sitting.
Corinne appeared at our elbows with a menu. She handed one to me and asked Elizabeth, “Usual for you, honey?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks turned bright red. “You know, Corinne, I think I’ll change things up for now. What’s the soup today?”
“Clam chowder and, on special, Mac’s s split pea. No ham. Just spinach and all the other things he tosses in.”
“That sounds perfect,” Elizabeth said, squirming in her seat. She ran a hand around the scarf at her neck. “With a glass of water, too.”
“I’ll have the same,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” Corinne said with a crooked smile at Elizabeth.
Corinne held her hand out for the menu and I asked, “Do you mind if I take a quick look at the menu?”
“What do you want to do that for?” Corinne asked.
“I want to make a list of some of the healthier items on the menu. It might help as we discuss nutrition.”
Corinne’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, Mac will love that. You have a lot of work cut out for you, Lily. We still serve Froot Loops and milkshakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner around here.” She slapped Elizabeth’s back. Elizabeth ran a hand across her face.
The bell above the door announced another customer. Elizabeth seemed grateful for the distraction. I looked over my shoulde
r and my gaze was met by a laughing set of gray eyes.
“Hey look, Grandma, Aunt Addie. It’s Lily and Elizabeth.”
Edge pushed Ivy’s wheelchair our way and was followed by Aunt Addie. People greeted him on his way past each booth as if he were a celebrity.
When they paused next to us, Addie reached down and gave me a great big hug. For a moment I couldn’t breathe. Not just because she was holding me so tight, but because my mouth and nose were smothered somewhere in her chest . . . or maybe it was her stomach. They all seemed to go together on Addie.
“How wonderful to see you two together,” Edge said with a twinkle in his eye. “You have so much in common with your taste in food and all . . .”
Elizabeth waved him away. “Ignore him, Lily. He’s always got a joke.”
Again, that funny red rash swept up her face.
Edge slapped Elizabeth on the back and said, “Mom is at some meeting in Gaylord, so I stopped in to Lakeview and picked up Grandma. Aunt Addie decided to join us. If we get too loud for you ladies, just tell Corinne to cut us off. Coffee does that to me sometimes.”
Addie patted Ivy’s arm. “I always have lots to catch up on with my big sister.”
Ivy hadn’t taken her eyes from me since she walked in the diner. “Good . . . now.”
“Grandma hates the food at Lakeview and I promised her I’d spring her whenever Mom was away.”
They moved to the booth behind us, where they could wheel Ivy up to the table without blocking the aisle. Over Elizabeth’s shoulder I could see Edge clearly. He kept the conversation up with an exaggerated tone and grand gestures with his hands. Addie laughed incessantly. And Ivy giggled a time or two.
The whole thing was rather charming until they ordered. “Two bacon double cheeseburgers with large fries and onion rings for Aunt Addie and me, Corinne. And a clam chowder, macaroni and double the cheese for Grandma. Oh . . . and a chocolate milkshake for each of us. Large.”
Addie turned and her eyes fluttered my way. “Maybe I shouldn’t have the burger, after all.”
“What? You love that! Come on. It’s almost the weekend,” said Edge.
“Well . . . I guess this will be my way to celebrate the last hurrah before I get down to the business of eating healthy.”
* * *
The daylight was fading when Edge picked me up from the community center later. Nirvana was raging with “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and Edge was keeping the beat with spastic head banging, as usual.
We passed a snowplow clearing the slush to the other side of the road. The day had grown warm. That meant that soon the walkers wouldn’t have to worry about winter boots and ski pants.
“Edge, turn it down.”
“What?”
“Turn down the music just a bit.”
He lowered the volume.
“Do you ever have a serious conversation?”
“Why would I do that?”
I took a deep, calming breath. I was ready to get Truhart eating better. Starting now.
“I want to talk to you about what happened at the diner.”
“I’m sorry,” he said without taking his eyes off the road. “I know I shouldn’t make you keep secrets from my mother. She has this thing about Grandma interacting with the other day care campers. But Grandma hates the food at Lakeview, and truth be told, she isn’t much of a social person. I just like to get her out sometimes. Besides, it was with Addie. She used to love being around her little sister.”
“That isn’t what I want to talk about.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I want to talk about what you ordered for lunch.”
“What I—” He scratched his head. “My hamburger was really good. You should have ordered one.”
“No, I’m talking about the food you ordered for your great-aunt and grandmother.”
“Ha. Aunt Addie finished before I was halfway done.”
“And that was a good thing?”
“Wait a minute . . .” He sent me a sidelong glance. “Are we talking about the whole nutrition thing?”
“Yes.”
His brows drew together. “Oh, come on. They’re old. They haven’t got that much time to enjoy the good things in life.”
“So are you trying to hurry them to the other side?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It sure looked like you were rushing them there, the way you were encouraging them to eat. You should be more conscientious with Addie and Ivy. Every bite of junk they take is like subtracting minutes from their lives.”
We slowed down as we came upon a road crew filling potholes. Edge’s lips clamped shut and he steered around several men who were shoveling up steaming piles of asphalt from the back of a truck. He concentrated so hard on getting around the blockage that I could tell he was mad.
“I am not trying to criticize you. I know you love them very much and you wouldn’t want to hurt them. But it isn’t in their best interest to eat food that is high in sodium and fat and low in nutrients their bodies need.”
We were around the road crew and back on the open road. Edge’s foot was heavy on the accelerator.
“Your great-aunt is quite heavy, as I am sure you already know. At her age all that weight takes its toll on her joints, not to mention her arteries and heart. And your grandmother is sedentary in that wheelchair. The worry for her is that her digestive system needs fiber and food rich in probiotics to keep things running smoothly. These are real issues for people their age.”
We turned down the lake road. The evening sun was low on the horizon. The light inside the pickup truck flickered as the sun peeked through the trees. Edge’s face looked like a strobe light was bombarding it. I waited for his expression to change at each bright flash. But it remained the same. Rigid.
“Don’t be angry. I just wanted to point things out.”
Edge waited until we had pulled into the Callahans’ driveway. He shifted into park and turned to face me. “You know something? When the Triple C’s hired you as a fitness trainer, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea in theory. There are lots of people in this town who want to get in shape and live a healthier lifestyle. Great for them. But here is the problem I had with the idea. Not everyone wants to eat rabbit food and train for the Ironman—”
“I hardly think that a little exercise is the same as training for the Ironman.”
He cut the engine and pulled his keys from the ignition. “You missed my point.” He jumped out of the car and walked around to open my door.
I leaned back in the seat, refusing to budge until this was resolved. “Don’t stop there. Explain what you mean.”
“What I mean is just what I said. Not everyone wants to follow your workout and fitness routine. Don’t guilt the rest of the town.”
“I’m not guilting anyone. Just stating my concerns,” I said.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I am comfortable with my lifestyle. Grandma is comfortable with her lifestyle.” His eyes were dark in the dim light. He held out his hand to help me out, but I could do this alone. I pulled my crutch out of the car and stepped down.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I threw his own words back at him. They floated like a giant wedge in the air between us.
Edge’s frustration came out as a growl. He watched me with a stony face as I stepped down from the truck. When I was on the ground and steady on my three feet, I shuffled past him.
As I reached the door I turned to him. I wasn’t finished. “Just because you aren’t training for the Olympics doesn’t mean you have to give up on fitness.”
Edge’s face turned to stone. “You heard about that? Which sister told you—wait, never mind. I don’t care.”
He reached around me to open the door to the house before I could get to it. It bothered me that I still needed his help. “Just because my knee is in this brace doesn’t mean I’m a weakling.”
“I’m just using the manners my mama taught me. But if you want me to stop, then, hey.” He closed t
he door in my face.
I grabbed the knob and yanked the door open. When I stepped inside I turned around, surprised to see that he wasn’t there. He was already down the driveway, stomping back to his truck.
Of all the people I had met so far, Edge was the last one I ever thought I would alienate. Drivers stopped on the road to wave to him. Diners greeted him in Cookee’s as if he were a local celebrity. Even the seniors at Lakeview acted twenty years younger when they saw him. I was probably the first person in years who had pissed him off.
Leave it to me to anger the most popular man in town.
LESSON EIGHT
Make It Fun
Sunday morning, Ivy frowned at her plate of cold eggs while I finished the last of my coffee. When I had tipped the pot upside down to get out the very last drop, Louise asked if I wanted her to make more. I declined, not telling her that I hadn’t slept well. Not since Edge and I had our disagreement. He had missed the family dinner for the last three nights. I was sure he was furious at me. I debated apologizing. But why? Everything I’d said was true. He was acting like a child.
Louise read the newspaper at the end of the table. It was one of the first times I had seen her relaxing. The digital clock in the kitchen read 9:26. Two minutes later than the last time I checked.
Without looking up, Louise said, “You waiting for something to happen, Lily? If you are wondering when the girls will get up, I gave up on Sunday mornings a long time ago. Thank goodness for Saturday afternoon church services. “
I remember the days when I wanted nothing more than to sleep forever. But there was always something to do. A soccer game to go to. An extra practice for the week. A test to study for in college. I rarely slept past eight o’clock, even when I was a teenager.
“And Edge?” When I hadn’t been staring at the clock, I had been staring out the window looking for signs of Edge.
She raised an eyebrow at me over the top of the newspaper. “Cranky as anything when I try to wake him up before he’s ready.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my coffee, shrugging off any interest.
“But he is usually up by eight on the weekends.”
My eyes strayed to the picture window. I made a lame excuse for asking about Edge. “I need to figure out my schedule for the week. I am not sure Edge will be able to drive me for the early classes.”
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