Olivia really hoped they would give her very clear instructions with this whole cooking thing; that had never been her strong suit. She looked around at the ingredients set out at the different stations.

“How do you figure out what to make from week to week?”

Jamila smiled.

“That’s where I come in—I’ve worked as a cook in restaurants for a while. I’ve figured out a lot of recipes that work with some of our most frequent food donations, and that our community members will like.”

“Wow,” Olivia said. “That’s impressive. I bet that was a real challenge. They’re lucky to have you.”

Jamila handed her an apron.

“Well thank you, but I’m lucky to have this place, too. It feels good to give back, yes, but I feel like I’m getting a lot in return.” She stopped and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I’m going on and on about this—I can talk about this place for hours.”

Olivia shook her head.

“No problem. Where do we start?”

Jamila led her over to one of the counters.

“Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how good of a cook are you? With one being, like, you can barely open a can and heat up the food inside, and ten at, say, you’re a restaurant chef. Be honest, no judgment.”

Olivia laughed.

“Probably somewhere around a three? Maybe a four, in a pinch? I can definitely open up cans of food and heat them up, but I don’t quite know the difference between what it means to sauté something or braise it.”

Jamila steered her in front of a big bowl.

“Okay, perfect—tonight we’re making turkey meatballs with mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach. I’m going to put you on meatball duty; no chopping or sautéing involved, you’re just going to mix together a bunch of ingredients and then roll it all into meatballs. How does that sound?”

Olivia laughed to herself. This was definitely not what she thought she’d be doing tonight when she woke up this morning.

“That sounds great,” she said.

Two hours later, Olivia’s feet hurt from standing in the same place for hours in her far-too-pointy shoes, her hands were ice cold from rolling what felt like millions of meatballs, and her eyes stung from all of the onions that the woman next to her had chopped. But when she looked at the forty sealed containers of meatballs, potatoes, and spinach, she felt like she’d really accomplished something.

“Great work tonight, team,” Jamila said as they moved the containers from the counters to the refrigerators.

Olivia dropped her apron in the spot where all the other volunteers dropped theirs, took off her gloves, and washed her hands.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Olivia,” Jamila said as Olivia dried her hands.

“It was my pleasure,” Olivia said. And she meant it, too.

“I hope we’ll see you again?” Jamila raised an eyebrow at her.

Olivia nodded and pulled her phone out of her purse.

“Absolutely. I’ll try for next Wednesday.”

She went to order a car, but Jamila stopped her.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Olivia looked up at her.

“I do, but I’m probably out of your way—are you sure?”

Jamila shrugged.

“I’ve gotten too many rides from other people in my life to care about going a little while out of my way. Give me a second to lock up.”

As they drove off, Jamila asked the question she’d known was coming.

“Is your car in the shop?”

Olivia shook her head. Everyone in L.A. seemed to believe it was unthinkable to not have a car.

“I haven’t bought a car yet. I know, I know, everyone gives me that look. I’ll get to it eventually, I promise.”

Jamila laughed.

“I would hope so. I mean, I know there are people in L.A. who don’t have cars; it just makes life a lot more difficult, that’s all.”

Yeah, she’d realized that in this past month.

“I know—I need to do it sooner rather than later.”

Jamila glanced at the GPS and got on the freeway.

“Well, if you need help, let me know—car buying is one of my best skills. I’ve helped a bunch of friends.”

Olivia relaxed into the passenger seat.

“I’ve never done it before, so I might take you up on that.”

Jamila grinned at her.

“Just let me know. How are you liking L.A.? Settling in well? I’m sorry the dating scene here is . . . what it is. I’ve heard it’s much better in New York.”

Olivia couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t gone on a date in her last year and a half in New York, and somehow she’d met someone almost as soon as she’d landed in L.A.

“Wait a second. What’s that smile? Are you dating someone already?” Jamila asked in an outraged tone.

Olivia laughed.

“ ‘Dating’ is probably the wrong word, let’s put it that way,” she said.

Jamila grinned.

“Even better, honestly. All the good stuff, none of the drama.”

That was an excellent way to put it.

“Indeed,” Olivia said.

She smiled out the car window. She was definitely looking forward to her date with Max on Friday night.