The Taste of Lavender Read Free

right; we had become
practically inseparable. Over the last month we had gone from lunch dates every
couple of weeks, to Saturday afternoon movie matinees, and finally to seeing
each other or speaking on the phone at least once a day.
    Today we had made plans to do a little
last minute Christmas shopping. Maribel had come up with the idea while we were
complaining, uh, I mean chatting about the awful gifts we'd received over the
years from our respective spouses.
    "We should buy our own presents, 
then we would get something nice and not insulting like a Dryer or toaster
oven." she had said.
    It was then that we decided to go
shopping for ourselves while taking advantage of the holiday sales going on. If
we were feeling generous, we might actually pick up some gifts for others as
well. But at the core, this day was about us. We were going to pamper ourselves
for a change; commit to being girly, shopping-till-we-dropped Divas for the
day.
    We stepped out of our respective houses
at the same time, like mirror images locking the front doors, prancing down the
steps and meeting at my car. Maribel didn't drive very much, claiming that
American drivers were too crazy and unpredictable. I had the sneaking suspicion
that she'd never learned to drive over five miles an hour, but who was I to
judge. I avoided plenty of things myself, like the laundry, crickets and
pickles.
    "Do we have time to stop for
coffee?" Maribel eased herself into the passenger seat of my car.
    "Sure, there's a cafe about twenty
minutes from here. And it’s on the way. They have amazing Majorca sweet
bread."
    "Perfect. I'll be sociable in
thirty minutes then." She smiled and clicked her seat belt in place. I did
the same even though I'm ashamed to admit I often forget.
    I backed out of the drive and motioned
toward the radio. "Find us some tunes?"
    Maribel fiddled with the dial for
several minutes before settling on one of my favorite stations. Adele crooned
of love lost and I sang along, softly and in my own head of course. I liked
Maribel too much to subject her to my singing.
    After stopping for fuel, both the kind
for the car and the kind for us, we settled into an easy silence for the
remainder of the drive. While our town wasn't exactly off the map, it was
somewhat removed from modern conveniences like shopping malls.
    I watched as she took in the surrounding
countryside, savoring the natural beauty of the bay area. It reminded me that
I'd gotten so used to my hometown that I rarely bothered to take in the details
anymore. I resigned to change that about myself. I'd stop and smell the roses
more if it killed me, dammit.
    Perhaps that is why I was so drawn to
Maribel right from the beginning. She lit a fire within me, made me participate
in my own life and live with creative purpose. Around her, everything was vivid
and memorable. She made my previous life seem like a grainy black-and-white
film.
    We arrived at the mall in record time,
probably because I'd been paying more attention to her than the speed limit.
Deciding to start at one end and work our way through the dozens of stores, we
only had one rule: indulge ourselves for a change.
    And so we did.
    My first purchase was a deep plum
Pashmina wrap. It would go with my gray pea coat perfectly and my neck always
felt cold without something around it. It was a practical purchase, but also an
impulsive one. Maribel had draped it around my neck, lifting my hair to arrange
the silky fabric. Her fingers brushed back an errant hair from my face and I'd
blurted, "I'll take it!" to the sales person before even thinking. I
justified the expense to myself after the fact.
    Maribel wasn't quite as practical. In
the first hour she'd purchased a stunning pair of knee-high black leather
boots, an evening clutch covered in tiny crystals, a clunky amethyst ring and
three identical cashmere sweaters, in varied shades of autumn.
    "Slow down," I teased her.
"You're putting my one little bag to shame already."
    We linked