SASHAS
asha walked into the kitchen and found Lynn standing at the far center island arranging colorful vegetables, cut julienne style, in a bowl with homemade vegan pesto dressing. Her thick red hair, tucked behind her ears, cascaded straight down her long, thin back. Sasha hadn’t noticed her height during the mostly seated interview. A moment of serenity, almost comfort, entered her heart at the sight of such an efficient older woman in her home. “Thank you,” Sasha acknowledged. How old was Lynn? Late-thirties? Of course, she wouldn’t ask, but redheads always looked older. Maybe forty?
Lynn looked up, the blue of her eyes intense. “I hate to see fresh food go to waste,” she replied. She smiled, a tight smile from thin lips and then indicated a single table setting at the end of the oth
