Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,25

open door of the refrigerator. “Yeah, I know. I’m cooking again. But wait until you see what we’re having.”

“No complaints from me,” I said happily, peering into a pot on the stove. “What are you making?”

“I already baked a coffee cake, and now I’m starting the artichoke and spinach eggs Benedict with a spicy hollandaise sauce on croissants. And potatoes with rosemary, onion, and garlic. It’s going to be bang-up.” Ade emerged from the depths of the fridge, her arms loaded with half its contents. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft curls. Even hugely pregnant, she was stunning. Her face was bare of makeup, and she wore black stretch pants and an oversized tank top over a sports bra, but she still looked better than anyone else I knew.

“Look at you!” I practically squealed. “You’ve become so domestic and cute!” The change in Adrianna was incredible. The prepregnant Adrianna never appeared in front of anyone without makeup. As for cooking, she’d been the queen of takeout—high-end takeout, admittedly, but take-out nonetheless. Not that I objected: a warm, comforting meal was just what I needed to soothe my nerves.

“Shut up. I’m not domestic, and I’m certainly not cute. Have you seen my feet?” She kicked a leg out for my viewing pleasure. “I mean, I haven’t seen my feet in weeks, but I imagine they are monstrous, swollen blobs. Grab a mixing bowl for me, will you?”

I complied and then helped her to mix spinach, artichoke hearts, mayonnaise, sour cream, garlic, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese. She poured the concoction into a ceramic baking dish that I popped into the oven. While the oven door was open, I got a glimpse of the aromatic potatoes that were crisping beautifully.

“Now the hollandaise sauce,” she said.

I watched in awe as Adrianna heated a double boiler and began melting butter. This from a woman who adored food as much as I did but who, until now, had had zero cooking skills!

“Here, separate the eggs for me.” She pushed the carton toward me.

“Yes, ma’am!” I dutifully began cracking eggs, separating yolks and whites, and tossing the shells into the sink.

“Oh, so I want to hear about Josh’s filming yesterday, but get this,” Adrianna began as she cut a lemon for the sauce. “Owen called me earlier and said that someone from the Department of Public Health went into Natural High and Evan’s cheese shop first thing this morning to investigate a serious case of food poisoning. How gross is that?”

“Oh, God, really?” When I turned from the sink to look at Ade, I broke the yolk from the egg I was trying to separate. “Well, I can’t say the filming went smoothly.” Gross understatement.

“Why? What happened? Josh didn’t panic and burn everything, did he?”

I handed Ade the bowl of egg yolks and watched as she mixed them with an electric beater. “No,” I yelled over the din, “he didn’t do anything wrong. But the guest’s wife died during dessert.”

“She cried? His food was that bad? Screw her. Who cries over a dessert?”

“Died, Adrianna! Died!” My loud voice filled the room when Ade abruptly turned off the mixer.

“Someone died eating Josh’s food? I guess she did get screwed.” She started adding small portions of the egg to the melted butter and lemon. “Did she have a heart attack or something?”

“No, I wish,” I answered. “Not that I wish she’d had a heart attack! It’s just that . . . that the situation is complicated.”

I told Adrianna all about yesterday’s events as she finished making the hollandaise, which was now spiked with hot sauce, and began to poach four eggs. “Francie died while I was with her. She looked horrible, Ade. She was so sick. And it happened so fast. Right in front of me.” My stomach clenched in knots, and I tossed my head as if trying to shake out the image of Francie dying on the floor of that filthy bathroom. “Ade, I have to know what happened to her! I was right there, and I couldn’t do anything to help her. I didn’t do anything.”

I was ashamed of not having made some sort of heroic effort to revive Francie. At a crucial time, I had completely frozen; in the worst possible way, I had let Francie down. The ugly thought came to me that since I’d done it once, I might do it again. I was Adrianna’s backup birth coach! What if Owen was unreachable when Ade went into labor? And I