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science project, though.

But Perry was over the moon.

“Alright, ladies first,” he told Vicki and handed her the jar. “Smell the blend.”

She sniffed deeply and contemplatively.

“Mmmm,” she said softly and nodded. “It’s got a very earthy smell.”

Perry liked this. “It does. We grew it all here, you know. So, now close your eyes and take a sip.”

She obeyed, and I saw her swill the beverage around in her mouth.

“It’s very fruity,” she remarked and opened her eyes.

“So, what do you think?” Perry asked with an excited grin.

“I think you’ve got a money maker there,” Vicki replied and took another small sip.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, and then he turned and handed me the jar expectantly. “Now, your turn.”

I took it and swirled it around as if I were at a wine tasting. At a wine tasting, the taster is to examine the color, which would tell a lot about the grapes and age of the wine. I didn’t really know what I was looking for, so I just nodded in approval and thought about how much I hated kombucha.

Then I closed my eyes and took a sip.

“What do you think?” Perry asked eagerly. “It’s our peach-raspberry blend, and it’s got some wicked probiotics.”

“Mmm,” I hummed and nodded as I opened my eyes. “Yeah, you could kill cancer with this thing.”

He laughed. “I wish. What do you think of the flavor?”

“It’s definitely got a fresh brewed taste,” I admitted diplomatically.

He smiled. “I know. The stuff we make here has such a better taste than anything out there. I can’t drink most of the stuff on the market. It’s crap. What I love about this stuff, is it’s bringing something new and authentic to the market. Something the American marketplace just doesn’t have. And you know, our American culture is just beginning to scratch the surface of food awareness and what probiotics and natural remedies can do. I’m so honored we get to the part of an emerging national conversation.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled as I handed the jar back to him, “I’m glad you’re passionate about what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing?” He smiled and shook his head. “What we’re doing. I couldn’t have done this without you and your investment. Come on, I want to show you what the money we’re making is going to.”

“What do you mean?” Vicki asked.

“We’ve got a really exciting new project,” he replied as he rubbed his hands together. “I want to show you.”

I smiled, followed him, and hoped I didn’t have to drink any more kombucha. We walked along through an expansive field and passed a building under construction.

“You can’t see much,” Perry began as he gestured to the bare bones structure, “but that’s the new factory we’re building. We want to keep it authentic and real, so we’ve flown in a couple of designers from San Francisco to keep the same vibe and energy we have as a community. Our thinking is the American culture is so caught up in fast, fast, fast, that we want to literally bottle up our energy, our vibe, and give it to the world. So, we needed a building that said as such and communicated it.”

“I read that in your proposal,” I remembered. “How do you intend to do that?”

“We’ve got some great guys in from San Fran who really get us,” he answered. “They really understand our vision. So, we’re using all natural products in the building materials. As you know, it did raise the price a bit.”

“Right.” I nodded.

Our benefactor left a multi-million dollar estate to a zebra, and as the executor of the zebra’s trust, I invested in the kombucha plant as long as Tranquility took care of the zebra. So, given that we’re flying in grass from Kenya for that thing to eat, I didn’t really care how much the kombucha plant cost.

“We’re also doing the most eco friendly packaging and bottling we could find,” Perry continued. “All the labels are from one hundred percent recyclable paper, and we have a return bottle program. Customers can return the bottle to Earth Market, and we’ll recycle them free of charge. Also, Kristen published this neat little book on DIY crafts to do with our bottles.”

“That’s fun,” Vicki said with a smile. “I do DIY projects from time to time.”

“Yeah,” Perry shrugged, “she charges thirteen bucks a pop, and the books are flying off the shelves. We use the same glass bottles as a lot of the drinks at Earth Market, so her craft ideas work with a lot of products. Being artsy-craftsy is really trendy right now, she says.”

“It is,” Vicki agreed. “It’s kind of a millennial mom thing.”

“Exactly,” he said. “That’s what her research suggested. So, she aimed the book at socially conscious ‘Pinterest moms,’ is what she called them.”

Vicki laughed. “Pinterest moms. It’s a staple of our generation.”

Perry walked a few paces ahead of us, and when he was out of earshot, I turned to Vicki.

“Pinterest moms? What are you talking about?” I blurted out. “Sometimes I think when I’m asleep, you astral project into this whole other life as a suburban mom.”

Vicki sighed and searched the sky for a reply.

“Being a successful woman in a small town is different,” she finally said. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just you have to know how to fit in. Women here are concerned about their marriages, their kids, their kids’ education, the new principal at the elementary school, to vaccinate or not to vaccinate … so, to be one of them, you have to be able to talk about these things. It’s not bad. It’s just a different way of life.”

I nodded as I had definitely noticed this as well. Most people our age either left town, got married, or gave up. At times, I felt a little odd that I

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