She opened the oven door to check on the chicken.
Rats. It had cooked a lot faster than she’d thought. She’d better reduce the heat. If all went well, it should be ready in thirty or forty minutes, which meant she’d better stick in the potatoes to bake. Then just before they sat down, she’d warm up a can of French-cut green beans. Jase had taken a big helping of them at dinner Saturday, which seemed a century ago.
But what about dessert? She wasn’t about to attempt a pie, and they hadn’t bought any cake mixes at the store.
Jell-O! She’d make lime Jell-O for Jase! She’d better start it now so it would be set by dinnertime.
Satisfied that the meal was under control and she wouldn’t make a liar out of Lolly’s extravagant boast about her cooking skills, Laurel decided to check on the plants in the drawing room, but instead she ended up pulling the drapes aside to watch Sarah and Eric play ball in the Bridgeses’ front yard again.
A big black Cadillac turned into Sarah’s driveway.
It was Jase—and Sarah, she noted, was acting very friendly, walking over to the car right away like she and Jase were old friends. After a couple of minutes of conversation, Jase waved, backed out of the driveway, and turned around. Laurel raced to the kitchen, arriving just seconds before he came in the door.
Had Sarah told him about Daddy? The past three days had been a magic interlude—but was this when they would end, when he would storm out and she’d ever see him again?
Her conscience hammered her with guilt. Maybe it would have been better if she’d told Jase about Daddy’s downfall the first day he came to town, or the evening he and Maxie came to dinner, or after their first wonderful night together. But the longer she’d put off saying anything, the harder it became to figure out just what to say. How could she work a topic like that into a lunchtime conversation? How could she bear to look at Jase’s face when she told him Daddy had toppled off his pedestal and she was part of the peripheral damage?
Dear God, Jase had said he loved her, but was his love strong enough to hear the truth about his mentor?
She fixed a bright smile on her face as he walked in and deposited a Saran-wrapped pound cake in her hand. “For you, from the good mothers of Westside Elementary.”
Then, before she could even put the cake down, he took her in his arms and kissed her as if they’d been separated for years rather than hours.
Sarah hadn’t given her away. Why not? She and her mother had shunned Kinkaid House the same as everyone else.
Laurel looked down at the cake. “I don’t understand.”
“Got lassoed into a PTA bake sale, though I was able to ditch the oatmeal cookies with your friend Sarah.”
She laughed in relief. “Is that what you two were talking about? Oatmeal cookies?”
Jase’s eyebrows went up. “You were watching? Peeking through the front curtains?” He gave her a teasing smile. “Are you…jealous?”
She tried to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Jase. I guess living here alone has made me a little paranoid.” But not about what you think.
She ran her hand down his thigh. “You can give Sarah all the oatmeal cookies you want, as long as I’m the one with benefits.”
His eyes glittered as he seized her wrist and brought her palm up to his mouth. “Only you, Laurel. Only you.”
She took her hand back, but gave him a wicked smile. “We eat at six.”
*
Dinner wasn’t exactly a fiasco, but it wasn’t a raving success either.
The table settings—colorfully painted plates Mrs. Claypool had used for casual serving platters—may have been charming, but they didn’t make up for the chicken being leathery, and, at the last minute, her having to replace the nearly raw baked potatoes with mashed potatoes made from a box. The beans turned out well, and the Jell-O was okay, thank goodness—although she later realized she’d left the marble pound cake in the refrigerator. But at least that meant she already had a dessert on hand for tomorrow night.
She might as well face it—cooking was harder than she’d thought. There was nothing to do but clear the table and retire to the den. If Jase was still hungry, he could snack on some of the fruit they’d bought at the store.
But apparently he had other things in mind. Laurel savored each golden moment as he hooked up his fax machine and installed the new ink cartridge.
Bit by bit, he was moving in. Could she keep him?
*
The next morning, Laurel decided to take the plunge and try on her old PE shorts.
Whaddaya know? She could still get into them, although they fit more snugly than when she was in high school.