The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (12 page)
Samuel, God love him, just laughed.
I was in the master bath brushing my teeth when Samuel came up behind me. I caught his reflection in the vanity mirror as he leaned against the door frame. He grinned at me for all he was worth. “Well, well,” he said.
I turned, my mouth full of toothpaste and froth. “Well, well,” I said back, albeit garbled. I resumed my brushing, rounding out my mouth to keep the toothpaste inside. “Life as we knew it,” I said and spit.
“Over, babe.” He took the necessary steps toward me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I continued to rinse, then dried my mouth on a nearby hand towel, came upright, and leaned against him. Even in his early sixties, he was still rock solid. “But, he’s our son,” he continued. “It’s good that he and Samantha want to work
through their problems.”
I turned and draped my arms over his shoulders, leaning back so I could search his face. “Had he talked to you about this before?” I looked him dead in the eye. If he were lying, I’d know it.
“No. But we did talk a few minutes ago after the rest of the crew left. He and Samantha feel that they need a clean start. Apparently there were some very significant problems and for quite a while.”
“Moving to Colorado won’t solve old problems, Samuel.”
“No. But Pastor Kevin has agreed to meet with them. He’s doing a pretty good job on Jack and Goldie’s marriage, after all.”
“Jack and Goldie,” I thought out loud. “They ought to be at
Summit Ridge by now.”
Samuel pulled me close and nuzzled my neck. “Wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall at that cabin?”
“Like you don’t know.” I felt my legs go weak. “You’d better stop that. We have young children in the house now.”
“Never stopped us when our kids were little,” he said. Samuel stepped back, gave me a swat on my behind, and walked out of the room. I was on his heels. “Kaci and Brent really need separate bedrooms. Kaci is too old to share a room with a little brother.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well. We have three bedrooms up here. Two downstairs. Michelle, of course, has her room across the hall, and the other room has turned into a bit of a junk room, but I’m thinking we can clear that out—or, I can, I should say. Though I’m sure Samantha would be happy to help with that project. We can fix it up. You know, for
a girl.”
Samuel shook his head. “They’re only going to be here for a couple of months. Tops.”
“But I was thinking this would be a great time to fix up a room for all of our granddaughters—a place for them to call their own when they spend the night with us. Something pretty and... girly.”
Samuel chuckled again. “Now that the shock has worn off, something
tells me you’re really going to enjoy this.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe a little.”
He touched the tip of my nose with his fingertip. “Maybe a lot.” Then he kissed me lightly at the spot his fingertip had marked. “One good thing about this day being nearly over—nothing else can go wrong.”
I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, talking on the phone with Evie and telling her the latest and listening to her go on and on about the Christmas tea and Lisa Leann, when call waiting interrupted. Caller ID indicated it was my brother on the other end of the line. My brother, who rarely—if ever—calls.
“Evie,” I said. “It’s Charles. And he’s calling from his cell phone.
Let me call you back.”
“Charles? Wonder what that’s about.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to let you know if something’s
wrong.”
“So we can pray,” Evangeline said, like the president of our prayer group that she is. Another beep came through the line.
“I have to go, Evie.” I clicked over to the other line. “Charles?”
“Oh, Lizzie. Thank the good Lord you answered.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s Mom.”
“Mom?” Our mother, who was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, had, for the past year or so, been living with Charles and his wife, Mildred, who is a retired registered nurse. They’re only about a half hour’s drive from here. Still, I don’t see Mom (or them) as often as I should. “What about Mom?”
“Listen, Lizzie. I’m calling you from outside the hospital.”
“The hospital?” I sat up straight, swinging my legs over the side
of the bed. “Has she taken a turn for the worse?”
“No. No, but I need you to listen. You can’t use a cell phone inside the hospital and I’m freezing to death standing out here. It’s not Mom. Exactly. It’s Mildred. She’s had a heart attack, Liz.”
My hand flew over my mouth. “Oh no. Oh, Charles. Is she...”
“No. But it’s pretty serious, and she’s going to be in the hospital for a while. Then she’ll need to recoup. Doc says... well, the doctor says we need to do something about Mom. Mildred can’t take care of her anymore, Liz, and I certainly can’t. Not being a man, taking care of her personal needs. Not with my job and now having
to take care of Mildred too.”
“Oh, well, no, of course not. Of course not.” Reality then hit me like a slap in the face. “Oh, dear. You mean you want Mom to
come
here
?”
“I know it might be an imposition, Liz. I mean, if you have to put her in a nursing facility, I’d understand, but I just can’t do any more than I’m doing right now. We’ve had Mom for over a year now. She’s fairly lucid. Sometimes a little off.” He chuckled. “She’s still her old bossy self, so she must not be too bad, you know?”
My shoulders slumped. “Charles, Tim and Samantha and the kids are living here now.”
“What? Why?”
I took a few minutes to explain, keeping it brief, aware that his teeth were chattering on the other end of the line.
When I was done he said, “Lizzie, I don’t know what to say.”
We were both silent for a few moments. “Shame Mom and Dad didn’t have more kids,” I finally interjected, and we laughed a bit.
“But you did say Samantha would be there during the day, right? I mean, fair exchange for Tim and his family living there rent free, don’t you think?”
I frowned. That was really none of his business, but in a way, he was right. “I’ll have to talk to Samuel. And to Tim and Samantha.”
I heard a siren blaring in the background before Charles said, “Liz, I need to know something soon, okay? I’ve got our neighbor, Mrs.
Hubble, watching Mom right now. But that won’t last forever.”
“Mrs. Hubble with her 101 cats?” I asked. “No, I imagine not.” Mrs. Hubble was as known for taking in stray felines as she was for her lack of emotion toward human beings.
“She was my only option at the time. So you see what a bind I’m in.”
“Yes, I see.” I stood. “I’ll call you in the morning,” I said, then hung up the phone.
A minute later I stood over Samuel, who was stretched out on his recliner, watching a late afternoon football game. From the sound of things, Tim and family were on the ground level of our splitlevel home, watching
America’s Funniest Home Videos
on the small television set in the little sitting room at the end of the hallway.
“Samuel,” I said.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Hey, news brief just interrupted the game. Weather is turning nasty from the north and heading this way. We’re in for a lot of snow. Schools will be closing,
no doubt.”
I sighed. Of course. That would leave me trapped in a house full of people all day. “I’ve got more bad news,” I told him.
He shifted a bit. “What’s that?”
“Remember what you said about nothing else going wrong?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well...
wrong
.”
Clay left the card shop with a box of overpriced Christmas cards, a light catcher for his mother, and a date with Britney that evening.
He’d spent over forty-seven dollars and nearly three hours in the store, moving aside when customers came in, allowing Britney to do her job, which she did with flair. He was fairly certain that girl could sell an ice cube to an Eskimo if one would just walk through the door.
Nearing his third hour there, he gathered up his nerve and asked her out. “Hey, I gotta get going,” he began.
Britney pouted. “Do you have to? You make the time go by so much quicker.”
Clay shuffled his feet a bit. “Hey, look. It’s last minute, I know, but if you don’t have anything going on for dinner, I’d like to take you out.”
“Tonight?” she asked.
Clay frowned; he’d insulted her. “Like I said, last minute.”
Britney held up her hand to stop him. “Oh no. No, no. That’s not what I meant. And, yeah. I’d love to go out with you tonight.”
“You get off at five?” he asked.
“Takes me till six to get home,” she said by way of answer.
“So, then how about I pick you up at seven?”
“Seven is good. Do you know where I live?”
Clay grinned. He’d Yahooed her personal address earlier. Britney— though in her midtwenties, he’d been told—still lived with her mother, father, and brother, a young man named Adam who was dating Michelle Prattle. “You’re not the only investigator in this town,” he said with a wink. “I’ll see you at seven.”
As he was leaving, he saw the coach and Goldie Dippel driving toward the edge of town. For a moment his curiosity over their being together got the better of him. First, he’d seen Charlene Hopefield
at Mrs. Dippel’s the night before. Now this.
Something was stirring, and Clay suspected it was more than just the snow swirling over his head. He’d make his way on home and type some notes into the trusty file on his laptop.
One day, he decided, he’d write a bestselling novel. All about the girls of the Potluck Club.
Evangeline
My fiancé, Vernon Vesey, was due to arrive at my house around six o’clock Sunday evening for dinner. We’d eat and then afterward, I figured, we’d talk about our upcoming wedding plans. That and a most pressing situation at hand.
As I put the finishing touches on what I call my “meat and potatoes in a dish,” I thought about the sober conversation that must take place. And must take place that night. It should not and could not wait another minute. At least not as far as I was concerned.
Fact of the matter is, Vernon’s ex-wife (and Donna Vesey’s mother) was back in town in the worn-out person of Dee Dee McGurk. Since she had been gone for nearly thirty years, it was no wonder that most people didn’t recognize her right away, not even Donna. But I sure as snowfall in the wintertime knew her. Knew her on sight the afternoon I followed Vernon into the Gold Rush Tavern and found the two of them cozy at a back table. Not because she was still the pretty girl she’d been when we were young and in school and she’d stolen Vernon from me, but because the emptiness in her eyes hadn’t changed. Not in all those years. Not even with her running off with the choir director at Grace Church.
You’d think running off with a man practically a pastor, she would have had a good life. But she hadn’t. Vernon had investigated and—as he told me later while I ate crow—found out that she’d been married six times altogether. Once to Vernon, once to the choir director (and we’re all wondering whatever happened to that poor soul), and then four other times. Had three more children, Vernon said. One was taken by social services and the other two were raised by their father, who hadn’t even bothered to marry Doreen, not that I can blame him. I mean, who wants a woman who has been around the block more times than a snowplow in a January blizzard?
So now Vernon was faced with Doreen wanting to see their daughter, and Vernon saying absolutely not. But if I know Doreen Roberts Vesey McGurk—and I do—she won’t take no for an answer forever. She’ll end up springing herself on Donna, and Donna would be hurt even more than she’d already been by that woman.
Her mother.
Now, for the most part, Donna and I get along about as well as two alley cats, but the fact of the matter is, she’s Vernon’s daughter and I love her. Okay, there. I said it. I love the girl. She could have been my daughter, but she is Vernon’s, and what’s Vernon’s is nearly mine. After all, we’d be married in a little more than a month or so.
Married. White lace and throwing a bouquet and a honeymoon spent with the man I love. I trembled with excitement. I would be Mrs. Vernon Vesey. Evangeline Benson Vesey. Mrs. Sheriff Vernon Vesey. I giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Hello,” I said out loud though all alone in my dining room, where I laid the silverware on the table. “Sheriff ’s office? This is Evangeline Vesey. May I speak to my husband, please?” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Vernon was opening the front door.
The man didn’t bother to knock anymore. And why should he? This would be his home soon enough. I shivered again.
“Vernon?” I called out, turning toward the front of the house.
“Hey, Evie-girl,” he said. I reached the foyer in time to watch him peeling his way out of his leather sheriff ’s jacket and then hanging it on the foyer coatrack. His shoulders were covered in snow, thanks to the early blizzard we’d had starting late the afternoon before and pretty much continuing on all day. “Something smells good.” He smiled at me, then took me in his arms and gave me a quick kiss. He lowered his voice and said, “And I don’t mean what’s on the stove.”