Linda Jones - The Husband Recipe

Not wanting to be underdressed, Lauren had worn a lavender sundress and white sandals, tiny diamond studs in her ears and her hair down instead of in its usual ponytail.

There were hugs all around, then the three women carried dishes from the kitchen to the dining room table. Beyond the table the curtains at the doors, which opened onto a small patio, were pulled back to offer a relaxing view of a perfectly well-kept outdoor space with a wrought-iron table and chairs, hanging tomato plants, potted herbs and flowers. Past the patio a community green space was deserted and perfectly manicured. No kids at all. Lauren couldn’t help but wonder how old one had to be to move here….

After they sat in their usual places, and Gran began by passing the meatloaf, Miss Patsy asked Lauren if she’d had a nice day. That was all it took for Lauren to tell the older ladies about the day’s frustrations. The noise, the broken window, the man next door. She even told them how she’d stormed out of the house in her pajamas and bunny slippers, which gave everyone—even her—a good laugh. In hindsight it was pretty funny. After she’d told them how a repairman had shown up within a couple of hours to fix the broken window, she mentioned what she’d found online about her neighbor.

Gran carefully put down her fork and stared at Lauren as she finished her story. She wasn’t smiling, not that Lauren’s neighbor’s history was much to smile about. When Lauren finished sharing what she knew, Gran leaned forward just a little bit.

“Is this neighbor’s name Whiplash Donovan?”

Lauren was surprised. She hadn’t mentioned the man’s name because it wasn’t important. It wasn’t as if he would ever meet these two ladies. “Donovan is the last name, but he didn’t introduce himself as Whiplash. His first name is Cole.”

Gran waved that detail off, literally, with a sweep of her hand. “That’s him, has to be! I can’t believe it, Whiplash Donovan living right next door to my granddaughter. This is so exciting!”

“Whiplash?” Lauren asked suspiciously.

“He could hit the ball so far and fast, you’d get whiplash trying to keep an eye on it. You know your grandfather was a huge fan of the Atlanta team.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I was never as fanatical about baseball as he was, but I did follow the game. What choice did I have when he was always watching it on television or listening to the games on the radio? Even after he passed I watched when I could.” She gave a small, sad smile. “It made me feel closer to him, as if we were still rooting for the team together even though he was gone.”

Pops had been gone four years, and this was a detail of Gran’s life Lauren had never known. Sure, she remembered Pops watching sports on television, and wearing those team T-shirts and ball caps, but it wasn’t a passion grandfather and granddaughter had shared. They’d gardened together, played games, made homemade birthday cards, assembled endless puzzles….

Gran shook off her melancholy, again with a literal wave of her hand. “Donovan was one of your grandfather’s favorites. He so wanted to see that record broken. When Whiplash’s wife died and he walked away he took a lot of heat. Many of the fans were very upset with him. A lot of them simply didn’t understand.” Her chin came up. “But I did. Donovan put his family first—before fame, before money. Baseball players spend so much time on the road, there’s no way he’d be able to raise his children and continue to play. He made a choice, and I never for a moment doubted that it was the right one. You have to admire a man who has his priorities in order that way.”

Lauren almost grimaced. She didn’t have to admire her neighbor. She just had to deliver a peace-offering food and get out of the way.

Getting out of the way was what she did best.

Lauren’s grandmother reached for a second helping of fried okra. “So, tell me, is he still gorgeous?”

“Gran!” Lauren said, trying to put a hint of shock and disapproval in her voice. Anything to avoid answering with a resounding yes .

The older women laughed, and Lauren took a long, slow bite of meatloaf. She chewed deliberately, but eventually she had to swallow. Gran and Miss Patsy were still looking at her. Waiting.

“Fine, yes, he’s a handsome man. Some women might consider him gorgeous, I suppose, but he’s not my type at all.”

“Since when is tall, dark and handsome not your type?” Miss Patsy asked.

Lauren hesitated, and the older women did her the favor of changing the subject. They began to discuss recipes. Normally recipes were one of Lauren’s favorite subjects, but her mind was still on Cole Donovan. Just a little. No, that wasn’t right. Her mind was on men—or rather, the lack of one in her life.

She was happily single, for the time being. Her attempt at building her life around a man had failed miserably, and she was in no hurry to repeat that mistake. Of course she’d been too young to even think about marriage when she’d allowed hormones to override her common sense, and Billy had been a self-centered jerk. Looking back she could only be relieved that their two-year engagement had ended before she’d actually become his wife. At the same time, she was still annoyed that all the hours she’d spent planning her wedding had been wasted. There had been a couple of other romantic mistakes, misjudgments on her part, but neither of the other mistakes had gone so far.

These days Lauren worked so hard there were no hours to waste, no spare time to sit back and ponder the few failures in her life. Whenever Billy crossed her mind—which wasn’t often—he didn’t stay there long. He just flitted through like a pesky mosquito, not at all worthy of her attention. The details of the wedding reception she’d planned, however, stayed crisp and clear. Maybe one day the right man would come along and she’d be able to pull out her three-ring binder and start again.

Then again, who had time for men? She didn’t. One day, in the foggy, indistinct future, she’d work a man into her busy life. But not anytime soon. There were only so many hours in the day, after all. Where would she pencil romance into her schedule?

If she ever did decide to pencil romance into her schedule, she wouldn’t consider a man who had three uncontrollable children. No matter how tall, dark and handsome he might be….

Cole was surprised to find his neighbor at the door. Again. He answered her cautiously friendly hello with a sigh and a “What have they done now?”

Lauren smiled, and as she did he noticed that she held a very large wicker basket covered with a red-and-white-checkered towel that looked as if it had never been used to mop up spilled grape juice or ketchup. She looked more than a little like Little Red Riding Hood, and he wanted to eat her up. Did that make him the Big Bad Wolf?

She lifted the basket a couple of inches. “I’ve brought a little something to welcome you to the neighborhood, and to thank you for getting the window taken care of so quickly.”

What choice had he had? His kids had done the damage, and he couldn’t very well have left Lauren’s house vulnerable overnight. Not that this neighborhood seemed to be unsafe. It was just common sense. Still, he supposed it would be rude to send her and her basket away, so he stepped back and invited her inside.

She hadn’t seemed at all interested in getting to know him yesterday, when he’d made a fumbling attempt at being neighborly. Maybe something had changed her mind. Then again, maybe she was just more sociable when she was wearing a bra.

Her eyes scanned the living room, and he knew very well what she saw. The laundry he’d been folding on the couch, the half-finished puzzle on the coffee table, the toys Justin had been playing with and left scattered about. If he’d known she was coming he would’ve picked up a bit, but since she’d dropped by unannounced she’d have to take what she got.