Trading Places
The Queen of Pentacles stepped out of her carriage and told her driver to wait in his usual place.
As she moved through the church’s side door, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and rolled up her sleeves. Her apron was hanging on a hook. She tied it around her tiny waist, covering her satin gown with white cotton canvas.
The kitchen was empty. No one had done any prep work yet. No problem. She was in her element.
She flicked on the radio and headed to the walk-in fridge. There were radishes today, and carrot sticks. She’d start with veggie trays for all the tables. Everyone loved crudités.
She pulled out some green onions, green peppers, and yellow jicama, too. The restaurateurs must have all ordered too much produce this week, but their loss was her gain.
Ten minutes later, she’d assembled a dozen trays and lined them up in the fridge. She’d also started a huge stockpot of water boiling on the stove. Three chickens did a naked poultry dance for her as she rinsed them in the sink, and then plopped them into the water.
There were plenty of vegetables left, so she started slicing and dicing them for the soup, too.
Suddenly she remembered the bread. Where was the bread? Was there no bread today? What kind of a soup kitchen didn’t have bread?
She’d have to make a few calls.
Card images from the Universal Tarot by Robert DeAngelis, Lo Scarabeo.