Page 5 of The Husband Hour
Lauren had looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because you’ve had a rough few months, and I know what that’s like.” Then she pointed to a painted sign above the table that read AIN’T NO PROBLEM BACON CAN’T CURE.
Lauren couldn’t help but smile. Was the word cure a pun on cured meat, or was she giving the sign too much credit? Either way, she thanked the woman. And it took a few weeks before Nora would accept any money from her for food. It took about a month for Nora to offer her a job.
Lauren glanced at the chalkboard to get a sense of the day’s specials and realized it hadn’t been updated. She called out to Nora for a rundown.
“Goldenberry pancakes, a hot quinoa bowl, a kale–goat cheese omelet,” she said. “I only got half the goat cheese I ordered so be prepared to eighty-six it because of this rush.”
Nora prided herself on an organic menu constructed around as many “super-foods” as possible.
Lauren jotted the specials on her ticket pad, grabbed a piece of chalk and updated the board, and then started taking table orders. She loved the chaotic rhythm of the restaurant. For hours at a stretch, she didn’t have time to think. She barely had time to breathe. When she was really in a groove, it was almost like running.
Lauren was in the zone during the crush of lunch when Nora summoned her to the front counter.
“You have a visitor,” she said in the same moment that Lauren saw the hard-to-miss blonde in cutoffs and mirrored aviator sunglasses.
Lauren fortified herself with a deep breath and marched over to the sister she hadn’t seen since Labor Day weekend, which had been Stephanie’s last visit to the shore.
“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t Mom tell you I was coming?”
“Yes, but I mean here. At the café.” She glanced around. “I’m working.”
“Yeah, I know, Lauren. You’re always working or running or some shit and I need to talk to you away from Mom.”
Lauren sighed. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly. Mom has a bug up her butt about something. Did she say anything to you?”
Concerned, Lauren thought back over the most recent phone conversations she’d had with their mother but didn’t see any red flags. “No. I can’t think of anything. Let’s just…see how things go this weekend. Where’s Ethan?”
“At the house with Mom.”
“And Brett?”
Lauren barely knew Stephanie’s husband of a year and a half; he and Stephanie had eloped after dating for two months.
“He’s not coming.”
“Okay, well. I’ll see you later.” She turned around and eyed her tables.
“One more thing: I need to stay here for a few weeks. Maybe a month.”
Lauren turned back to her. “At the shore?”
“Yeah. At the house.”
No. This could not be happening. Summer weekends, she could tolerate. But weeks at a stretch?
“Stephanie, I know it’s beach season and the house is technically a beach house but it’s my home. If I lived in Philly, you wouldn’t just show up and say, ‘I’m moving in for the summer.’”
“At this point, I would. I’m getting divorced, and I have nowhere else to stay.”
Divorced. Lauren couldn’t even begin to act surprised.
“What about Mom and Dad’s?”
