He and Emmy sat on the sofa watching the noon news while Tate made something to eat in the kitchen.
“As we reported earlier, the FDA and Almost Homemade have issued an immediate recall on all prepackaged Caesar salads purchased in the last two days due to E. coli contamination of the romaine lettuce used in the salad kits.” A photo of the Caesar salad with the proper Almost Homemade labeling appeared on the screen in a box beside the anchor with a circle around the Prepared On date. “If you purchased one of these salads, you are asked to either discard it or return the Caesar salad to Almost Homemade for a full refund. So far twelve people have fallen ill in the Billings and Bozeman area with four hospitalized. Anyone who has eaten one of these salads and is feeling ill should contact their doctor or seek immediate medical attention. Next up after the break, weather.” The news cut to a chicken nugget commercial with a cute kid, reminding him that he needed to pick more up for Emmy. Maybe she’d like them with some french fries for dinner. Anything to entice her to eat and talk.
“You cheated on me!” Trinity stood just inside the living room, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed against the bright light coming through the windows, and spewed that accusation at him.
Concerned she was having some sort of episode, he stood, and walked toward her. “Trinity, honey, are you okay?”
Tate came out of the kitchen, a threat in his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“He . . . he cheated?” Now she didn’t sound so sure about the allegation.
Jon was completely confused, but remembered the doctor’s warning about her having trouble finding her words. “I’m not cheating on you, Trinity. You are the only woman I’ve been with since I moved to Montana. I love you. You know that. You know me. So what are you really trying to say?”
“I think she made that pretty damn clear.” Tate didn’t seem inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt after an accusation like that.
Trinity huffed and rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead. “You . . . you want Almost Homemade. You made me think . . .” She scrunched her face like she was thinking really hard. “You wanted me.”
He was starting to catch on. “Yes. I want you. End of story.”
Trinity scrunched her face again and shook her head, found that didn’t agree with her, and put a hand on the wall to balance herself.
“Sweetheart, you need to calm down and relax. This isn’t good for your head injury.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “She told me.” Trinity tapped her temple several times with her finger. “I hear her. I’m stupid. You used me.”
He got it now. “Steph told you that all I want is your business. I come in and I take over.”
She pointed her finger at him. “Yes. You used me.”
“Do you really believe that after everything we’ve been through?”
Tears gathered in her eyes, and it killed him to see them and the confusion making her so distressed and distrustful. “Something is wrong. We were supposed to talk and we didn’t and she said . . .”
“I know, sweetheart. We were supposed to talk about the business ideas I had for you and Adria, but then Nathan thought I wanted to buy the company, and we had to go to Emmy’s school. Remember?”
She nodded.
Jon continued filling in the blanks for her. “And we never talked about it. You were upset that you thought I wanted to buy the company and expand it without you.”
“Yes.” Understanding filled her eyes.
“But that’s not true. And it doesn’t matter now. I threw the proposal away, because all I want is you, your love, and our life here together. Remember? We talked about that in the hospital.”
She still looked upset and unsure.
“Sweetheart, I swear to you, all I’m trying to do is what you asked and help Adria with Almost Homemade until you’re feeling better.”
She went still. Her eyes locked on him. “Wait. What?”
Now he was confused. “I thought you heard the recall announcement I put out on the news and that’s what upset you.”
“What recall? What are you talking about?”
Tate stepped closer. “Sis, you’ve been asleep for like sixteen hours. I think your brain needs time to boot up. You seem confused and unable to think straight.”
She pressed her lips tight and furrowed her brow. “What recall?”
Jon touched Tate’s arm to get him to back off and let him handle this. “When I brought you home, I told you your phone had all those messages. You asked me to listen to them and call Adria with anything important. I did. Several of the messages were from Nathan at the Billings store and Theresa at the Bozeman store calling to ask what to do about customers calling saying they got sick eating their Caesar salad that they picked up at lunchtime.”
Trinity covered her mouth with her hand, the metal brace on her broken fingers touching the tip of her nose. “Oh no.”
“Exactly. So I called Adria and we’ve been working together with the hospital staff.”
“Were people that sick?”
“A few. The lettuce was contaminated with E. coli. In one of my other businesses, we had to do a small recall of products that had a defective part. I kind of know the process, so Adria decided that I should take the lead and contact the Montana Food and Safety Bureau and the FDA and let them know we believed the lettuce was contaminated based on the sample that tested positive at the hospital. The FDA has since confirmed the E. coli contamination and is tracing the lettuce back to your romaine producer.”
Trinity’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not right.”
The doorbell rang. Tate turned and answered it, letting Adria and Drake inside.
Jon tried to finish his conversation with Trinity. “The tests are conclusive. The recall went out on the morning and afternoon news. They’ll replay it tonight on the evening and nightly news. We phoned and emailed as many customers as we had contact information for, but we couldn’t reach everyone.”
“No. That’s not right,” she repeated, getting that confused look again.
He tried to be patient. “Take a second to organize your thoughts.”
She gave him a dirty look. “I’m not stupid.”
Adria put her hand on Trinity’s shoulder. “He’s not saying that.”
He hadn’t slept in two days, but still tried to hold back the hurt she’d think he’d be so callous. “You have a major head injury. Your brain is not working properly. You say it’s not right. Why isn’t it right?”
Her mouth tilted into a lopsided frown. She turned to Adria. “Hydro . . . hydro?”
Adria gasped, covered her wide-open mouth, then spit out, “Oh shit. Pregnancy brain. I forgot.”
Jon waved his hand between them. “Care to fill me in?”
Trinity took a breath and went slow. “After there had been reports of several romaine recalls over the last few years, I knew we had to be careful about our supplier. Lettuce Harvest supplied all our greens until I read an article about a group of University of Montana students who were working with hydro . . . hydroponics,” she said, finally finding the word. “They had a small setup and were supplying high-end restaurants with clean, organic greens. Because they are grown indoors and everything in the process is strictly controlled, the likelihood of contaminations like listeria and E. coli are nearly nonexistent.”