The grocery store was obscene.
That was the only word Jasmine Carter could find for it. Obscene. Rows upon rows of organic produce that looked like it had been individually polished by angels. Cheese displays that belonged in museums. A wine section that probably required a second mortgage just to browse.
"Linda." Jasmine stopped in front of a pyramid of imported Italian tomatoes, each one priced at what she used to spend on a week's worth of vegetables. "These tomatoes have names. Individual names. On little cards."
"San Marzano," Linda said absently, pushing their cart forward. "They're good for sauce."
"They're eight dollars each."
"Get a few."
Jasmine stared at her sister.
Six months ago, Linda had been clipping coupons and calculating unit prices like it was a competitive sport. She used to know which grocery store had the cheapest eggs by memory. Now she was casually approving eight-dollar tomatoes like they were breath mints.
