Free Janet by Peggy Webb Page A

time to
read. And there was a Sunday afternoon concert by the high-school
chamber choir that would be wonderful. Then there was an excellent
documentary on ETV—”DNA: Changing Life’s Genetic Blueprint.”
    Suddenly, she found herself at her computer
pulling up Clemmie’s recipe. She rationalized her behavior by
telling herself that she would invite Mr. Jed over for home-baked
cookies. Then in order to make her rationale work, she had to whip
her iPhone phone out of her pocket and call him to come over.
    Within fifteen minutes he was seated in one
of her kitchen chairs watching her assemble the ingredients for
cookies.
    “This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know
you could bake cookies, Janet.”
    “This is a first for me,” she admitted,
starting to measure the flour. “An experiment, so to speak.”
    “I hope I come out better than some of those
laboratory rats the doctors use.”
    Janet chuckled. “You don’t have to worry
about a thing, Mr. Jed. The worst that can happen is that you’ll
get a case of indigestion.” She cracked eggs, measured sugar and
greased the cookie tin with a vengeance. Making cookies was going
to be a breeze. She’d show that Dan Albany. Any old body could make
cookies.
    While she and Mr. Jed talked, she got her
first batch made and into the oven. When the buzzer went off
fifteen minutes later, she took the cookies out. They were golden
brown, perfectly round, perfectly beautiful cookies. She was proud
of herself.
    She got two plates and two glasses of milk.
“Nothing like home-baked cookies and a big glass of milk for a
Sunday afternoon snack,” she chattered as Mr. Jed bit into one.
“Eat up, Mr. Jed. There are plenty more where that one came
from.”
    “I sincerely hope not.”
    Janet knew that Mr. Jed was plain spoken, but
that was a little blunt, even coming from him. She took a bite of
her own cookie and promptly had a choking fit. When she had herself
back under control, she stood up, whisked their plates away and
dumped the cookies into the garbage can.
    “I obviously omitted a vital ingredient. But
one setback does not constitute failure. Right, Mr. Jed?”
    “I’m having the time of my life, Janet. I’ll
stay here and be your guinea pig as long as you want to bake.”
    The second batch stuck to the cookie tin and
came out in crumbs hardly big enough for the birds, and the third
batch came out black as a pair of tuxedo pants and just about as
tasty.
    Mr. Jed studied Janet as she started mixing
the fourth batch.
    “I’ve never seen you this fired up about
domestic chores. Any particular reason?”
    Flour drifted to the floor as Janet turned to
face him. “There’s a man who thinks I’m not his type, and I’m bound
and determined to prove him wrong.”
    “The proof is in the baking, is it?”
    Janet thought about that for a while; then
she raked the raw cookie dough off her fingers and crossed toward
the kitchen sink to wash her hands. Of course the proof was not in
the baking. All the things Dan thought he wanted in a woman were
superficial. One could buy perfectly delicious cookies at any
bakery. And hand-knit sweaters could be purchased by the dozen from
flea markets and craft shops. What made a woman the right type for
a particular man was something much more subtle, much less easily
defined. For want of a better word, she called it sparks.
    Smiling, she turned to Mr. Jed. “How did you
know?”
    “It’s the wisdom of age, my dear.”
    “I think I just have time to run down to
Kroger’s deli for cookies before I have to leave for hospital
rounds.”
    “I’ll be waiting right here.”
    By the time Janet had changed her clothes,
gotten the cookies, shared a small snack with Mr. Jed and finished
her hospital rounds, the sun had faded from the sky and a light
drizzle was falling. She glanced at her watch. It was still early,
and if she hurried she might catch the veterinary clinic open.
    Ducking her head against the drizzle, she
dashed for her