Hens and Chickens Read Free Page A

Lila could convince her former Perkins & Gleeful marketing partner, they would venture to Maine that very afternoon to check out Miss Jan Hastings’ offbeat proposal. What better way could they possibly spend their weekend?!
    “OK, I’m here under protest,” Rebecca said, sliding into a seat opposite her young friend. She plopped her over-sized faux leather purse on the floor. “I’d rather be throwing myself under a train but I thought I might as well get a coffee first. And congratulations, by the way. Cora told me about your promotion while she helped me box up my stuff. Would you believe it? She even helped me lug everything to my car—bless her!”
    “I didn’t get the promotion,” Lila said, quickly. “Are you alright?”
    “W-h-a-t?!” exclaimed Rebecca. “Cora promised me the job was yours – that’s what kept me from falling apart. That, and I was afraid my mascara would run.”
    “I quit, Becca.”
    Rebecca sucked in her breath sharply. “You … quit?”
    “Walked out on Kelly. Didn’t even slam the door.”
    Alarmed, Rebecca reached across the table and clasped Lila’s slim arm. “Be serious,” she pleaded. “You can’t quit . Companies don’t hire unemployed people; I saw it on 60 Minutes !”
    “Screw corporate America—sorry!” Lila automatically apologized. “I’ve got a plan—if it all works out. I’m going to Maine and raise chickens. Or eggs. Or something like that. And you’re coming with me!”
    “Oh, you’re only doing this to protest my firing!” said Rebecca, pushing a soft brown curl back from her face. “And while I love you for it, I think you’re foolish. It’s not too late; Kelly will still take you back.”
    “Most likely. But I’m not going back—I’m liberated. I always wondered what it felt like for those women’s libbers in the ‘60s, burning their bras and all. Now, I know. It feels totally mind blowing; it really does. Who does corporate America they think they are, anyway? The only game in town? Screw them! We’re gonna get a NEW life.”
    Rebecca sank back into her seat. “I think I need something stronger than coffee,” she said, weakly.
    “They make a really good chocolate croissant here.”
    “I was thinking of something a little stronger than chocolate!”
    Lila groped for her wallet and drew out a $20 bill. She tossed the money at her friend. “Here, get whatever you want. It’s on me,” she said.
    “Lila! That’s $20!” Rebecca eyed her friend with horror. “You won’t even get unemployment because you quit a perfectly good job.”
    “Chicken feed,” Lila retorted. She giggled at her own joke. “Ha, ha. Chicken feed. Go get your coffee, Becca, while I find out how much organic chicken feed costs.”
    Rebecca’s daughter, Amber, had recently introduced Lila to the organic food movement. Lila didn’t know much about the growing movement, but Amber’s enthusiasm had piqued her interest. She turned to her phone, and within a minute had discovered the answer to her question: a bag of certified organic feed cost about $25. “No joke,” she said. “I wonder how much those things eat?” She jabbed away at the phone.
    When Rebecca returned with a coffee and croissant, Lila set her phone on the table. “Here’s the plan,” she said. “You’re gonna rent out your house, and we’re gonna move to Maine, buy this rundown old place next to Miss Jan Hastings, and make a new life. We’re gonna live off my mother’s life insurance money until we can make a living from our chicken and egg business. I’ve got enough to carry us for a couple of years, no sweat. In the meantime, you can send your unemployment money to Amber. She’ll love the plan ‘cause we’re gonna be organic!”
    “We’re going to sell … chickens?” Rebecca said, skeptically.
    “Raise chickens and sell EGGS,” corrected Lila. “ORGANIC eggs. In Sovereign, Maine.”
    “You’ve arranged all this with a Twitter person?”
    Lila nodded, beaming.