The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (19 page)

With the snowstorm over, school was now back in session, and I was glad for it. My work was becoming my refuge away from home rather than the other way around. I mentally pinched myself but hard for even having such a thought. Then I remembered the chaos in my home the day before. Tim and Michelle had managed to make it to work, but the bank had closed down and every last one of my grandchildren decided that a “snow day” meant a day at MeMa’s drinking hot cocoa and playing video games.

I hate video games. I don’t even know why my children allow their children to have them.

Samuel had spent the day in front of the television, watching shows like
Judge Judy
and
The People’s Court
.
Where do they find
these people?
I wondered.

When I arrived at work I was pleased to find that my library assistant, Ellie Brestin, was already sitting at her desk—a smaller version of mine—sipping on a cup of hot tea. “Yours is on your desk,” she said, smiling.

I pulled my coat off and hung it on the metal coatrack in the corner of our little office. “Thank you,” I said. Ellie was always good about preparing two cups when she arrived first, and I, in turn, did the same.

“How was your day yesterday?” she asked. “Because it could not possibly have been as insane as mine. What was I thinking when I had four children, I ask you. And Holly was about as premenstrual as they come. You’ve had daughters. How long does this last?”

I turned from the coatrack. “How old is she now?”

“Twelve.”

“You’ve got a ways to go,” I said with a smile as I reached my desk and began to prepare my tea. Ellie—always thoughtful—had left a small packet of honey and a stirrer on a cocktail napkin. Having Ellie as an assistant was not half bad, in spite of the disgruntled sigh she now emitted. “My home was pretty much insane too, though there weren’t any premenstrual girls in the house.” I giggled a bit. “I have to tell you I’m happy to be back at work.”

“Well, you might not be when you hear about the meeting you’re
now scheduled for this morning.”

My shoulders slumped. “What meeting?” I looked at my desk; I had so much work to do.

Ellie jerked her head toward her desktop PC and said, “Came in our email late Friday. Apparently some of the boys from one of Mr. Polsen’s eleventh-grade poli sci classes got on a porn site sometime Thursday while they were in here doing some research.” She used her index fingers to quote the word
research
.

I racked my brain trying to remember the class even coming into the library on Thursday. Already it seemed a lifetime ago. “And?” I
asked, bringing the mug of hot tea to my lips and blowing.

Ellie’s eyes widened as she continued. “And one of the mothers overheard her son talking to some of the other guys later that night—you have no idea the filth on the Internet—and she called Mr. Tobin demanding a meeting. He set it for ten o’clock this morning.”

I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head ever so slightly. “I don’t wanna go,” I moaned. “And to think I was happy to be at work today.”

Ellie stood from her desk and headed toward the office door. “Well, you
have
to be there. You have no choice. I, on the other hand, must stay behind and file books on overstuffed shelves and keep watch for hormonal students.”

I peered up at her. She grinned, then added, “You know what they’re going to say, don’t you? They’re going to say that you need to be up to date on the software filters.”

I spread my hands in exasperation. “These kids today know how to break the filters, Ellie. Every time we add a new one or try out the latest, they break them in five minutes flat. Even I could break them, and I’m practically computer illiterate.”

“I know that,” she said, pointing first to herself and then pointing to me. “And you know that. Now all you have to do is see if you can get the parents to believe it.”

With a wink she stepped into the library to begin her morning work. I took a sip of my now nearly tepid tea, booted up my computer, and went in search of the email that summoned me to a meeting I would dread from now until 10:00.

It was going to be a long day.

It was five o’clock on the nose when I entered Higher Grounds. Only a few of the locals were there, sipping on hot drinks, trying to ward off the cold. Clay was in his usual spot, of course. My eyes widened with a bit of maternal delight when I saw that he wasn’t alone.

“Mrs. Prattle,” he greeted me.

I walked over to his table, ignoring the “Please Wait to Be Seated” sign in the front. “Good afternoon, Clay.”

He stood. The boy actually stood. “Would you care to join us?” he asked, sounding remarkably proper.

I looked from him to the pretty blonde I knew to be Adam Peterson’s sister. “Hello, Britney,” I said.

She smiled her million-dollar smile. “Hello, Mrs. Prattle. Michelle and Adam were over this past week. She’s teaching me to sign,” she said, then signed “Would you like a cup of coffee” to me.

“What’d you say?” Clay asked, beaming at her.
Good heavens
, I thought.
He’s smitten.

“I said,” Britney began by signing as she spoke, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Oh.” Clay looked to me. “Would you, Mrs. Prattle? You can join us... or are you meeting someone?”

I looked out the window and spotted Goldie dashing across the street as fast as her feet and the snow-slick streets would allow. “I’m meeting Goldie,” I said. “But thank you.”

Clay nodded. “I’ve got an interview set up with her for tomorrow. She and the coach barely survived that avalanche, I guess you know.”

I shuddered. “I know. Prayer, Clay. Prayer saved them.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Well, it was good to see you again, Britney.” I placed a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “And you, Mr. Whitefield. It was very good to see you in church on Sunday.”

Clay pinked and said, “Yes, ma’am. I was somewhat roped in by Mrs. Lambert, but I have to say I enjoyed it.”

Britney touched his arm lightly. “But you’ll go again, won’t you, Clay?” she asked.

Just then the front door opened and Goldie walked in. “That’s my date,” I said, then joined Goldie at the front. Within seconds we were seated and sipping on our hot drinks.

“So, tell me everything,” I said. “And leave no detail out. No stone unturned. I want all the details, even the ones that’ll make me blush.”

Goldie cut her eyes from the left to the right, allowing them to settle halfway across the room on Clay. “I know you don’t have a lot of time, and I don’t really want to talk about the cabin experience. I want to talk to you about something else.” She bit her lip. “Is that Britney with Clay Whitefield?”

I nodded. “Apparently, they’re becoming a bit of an item.”

“As long as she keeps him from eavesdropping on our conversation, I really don’t care.”

I was taken aback. “Goldie,” I whispered. “What is it? What’s
wrong?”

She hunched over. “It’s Charlene Hopefield.”

I furrowed my brow. “What about her?”

Goldie blinked a few times before going on. “She’s pregnant.”

“What!”

Tears were forming in Goldie’s eyes, and I reached for a napkin and handed it to her. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said to me between dabs and a blowing of her nose.

“Is it—”

“Jack’s? She says it is.”

“Oh, Goldie.”

Goldie blew her nose again, then rolled her eyes. “Lisa Leann once said she hoped Jack didn’t bring home a venereal disease. What he’s done is brought home a baby
.

I pondered the idea for a minute. “Does Jack know?”

Goldie shook her head. “Not unless that woman has told him today.” Her eyes jerked over to where Clay and Britney were sitting.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said quietly.

I didn’t say anything at first. I mean, what could I say? I’ve never been in Goldie’s shoes. Never once even thought about or worried about my husband in the arms of another woman. Now, the thought and vision of Jack in the delivery room, coaching Charlene, holding his newborn, teaching him to play catch...

“You have to tell him,” I said.

“Me?” Her eyes widened, and she lowered her voice another octave. “It’s her baby. Not mine.”

“I know, but he’s
your
husband.”

Goldie shook her head. “She can have him for all I care.”

I leaned back in my chair. “When did you find out?”

“Charlene came over right after you left Saturday night.”

“And still you went with him to Summit Ridge.”

That’s when I’m quite certain I saw the hint of a smile slide across her lips. “Only to torture him.”

“Torture him?”

She waved the thought away. “Never mind. It’s another story.”

I leaned my forearms on the table. “I want you to answer this question. Don’t think about the answer. Just answer it... Do you
love Jack?”

Goldie didn’t answer at first; she just looked at me. Looked through me, to be more precise. Then she nodded. “I do. He was so valiant while we were trapped in the cabin. Well, not at first. At first, when the lights had gone out and we didn’t know about the first slide, he was acting like a real baby. Things were not going his way, and he was... testy. I wanted to strangle him. But after the second slide... Honestly, Lizzie, if it hadn’t been for my knowing about Charlene, I would have... we could have... well, you know.”

I knew.

I looked down at my watch. It was getting late, and this was no time to end the conversation. “Goldie, listen. I have to get going. Samantha is cooking spaghetti pie for dinner, and Samuel should be getting off any minute and heading home.” I reached over and touched her arm. “I had the day from you-know-where and I really want to talk to Samuel about it before we get bombarded by the kids. Oh, and I think I may have found a place for Mother—”

“Your mother?”

“Ah. Another story, another cup of tea, another day. Okay?”

Goldie frowned. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. Here I am going on and on about my life, and you have your own problems too.”

I patted her arm, then reached toward the back of the chair for my coat. “Go talk to Jack. Don’t waste another minute. If you love him, be a team. Together you’ll get through this a lot easier than alone. Either way, Charlene is going to have a baby. Together or alone, Goldie. It’s up to you.”

Goldie also reached for her coat, and we stood. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” We both began to slip into our coats. “He’s coming over tonight. I’ll tell him then.” She nodded. “I
will.”

“Good girl,” I said, laying a five-dollar bill I’d earlier folded into my pants pocket on the table. “This is on me.”

We headed for the front door. As we stepped onto the sidewalk in the dim light of early evening, I looked to the left and saw Donna walking toward us. “There’s Donna,” I said.

“My new best friend,” Goldie said with a lilt.

“Oh, I’m sure of that. I want to ask her something about the Internet and some new filtering programs Mr. Tobin insists I look
into.”

“Oh?” Goldie remarked.

“Donna,” I called out with a wave of my hand.

Donna continued to move toward us, waving back.

“Donna, you’re just the one I need to talk to,” I said as she neared. “What can you tell me about or what do you know about—”

The young woman in front of me stopped, cocked her scarfcovered head a bit, and smiled. “You must have me mistaken for someone else. My name’s not Donna.”

I was startled. “I am so sorry. I thought... well, my goodness, but you look just like her.”

“No, I can see a difference,” Goldie said. “Hello, I’m Goldie Dippel. Sorry if we scared you.”

“You didn’t,” the girl said. “I’ve known for some time I look a lot like someone around here.” She tilted her head a bit. “Donna, I think it is?”

“Donna Vesey,” Goldie answered. “She’s Sheriff Vernon Vesey’s daughter.”

“And a deputy herself,” I added. “You may see her driving around here in her Bronco sometime. You’ll see the resemblance.”

The girl smiled broadly.
Good heavens
, I thought,
she even has
Donna’s teeth
.
Certainly has her eyes
. “Sheriff Vernon Vesey,” she repeated. “I’ve heard of him.” Then she nodded. “I surely have. How about that.”

I frowned, wondering,
How about what?
But before I could ask, she said, “I’m Velvet James, by the way.” She extended her gloved hand for a shake, and Goldie and I obliged her. “I’m new here, but
so far I really like it.”

“Did you move here alone?” Goldie asked, her Southern hospitality and curiosity spilling out. “Or with your family?”

“Well, sort of. My mama moved here a few months ago, and I followed her.”

“Your mama?” I asked, wondering if she were someone we knew.

“Mmm-hmm. Dee Dee McGurk? Do you know her?”

We both shook our heads. “Not familiar with her,” Goldie said. “Lizzie and I attend Grace Church just down the road. Perhaps the two of you can join us sometime. Very family oriented congregation.”

“That might be nice,” she answered. “I’ll tell my mama. She’s never been much of one to attend church, but she might go for it.”

“It’s never too late to start,” I said.

Our newest town member nodded her pretty head. “Mama told me once that she used to sing in a church choir, but personally I find it difficult to believe. Not my mama, anyway.” She placed her hand on her hip. “So, you know, it might be good for her to start going again.”

“We could always use another voice in the choir,” Goldie said.

I was just about to ask where her mother worked—thinking perhaps our paths might have crossed in that way—when my cell
phone chirped from inside my purse. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

As I dug around looking for it, Velvet said, “Well, I better get going. I’m heading toward the Gold Rush Tavern—that’s where Mama works—to spend some time with her during happy hour.” She smiled. “Like I said, Mama hasn’t gone to church as long as I can remember. Anyway, the bus picks up just right over there.”