The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (32 page)
“That’s great!”
He reached for my hand. “I have some news too.”
“You got the paramedic job?”
David grinned. “Sure did. Now all I need is a place to live. I can’t stay with Vonnie forever.”
“Then you’re going to put an offer on Swan Villa?”
“I’ve got some time to decide yet, but I’m thinking about getting a month-to-month lease on a condo Mrs. Whittman showed
me last week.”
A young man with a goggle tan from his recent skiing adventures placed glasses of ice water in front of us then handed us our menus. “Your server will be here shortly to take your order,” he told us.
David nodded. As I scanned the selections, he said, “This is a
great day for us.”
There was something about the way he said “us” that made me look up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve spent most of our Sundays at Vonnie’s and, well, we’ve connected. Am I right? You feel the same thing, right?”
“David...”
“Let me finish.” He reached for my hand again. “I don’t want this time we’ve had to end.”
“But why should it? I mean, we’ll always have Vonnie, and—”
“I want more.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you.”
I pulled my hand away. “But...”
David dropped to one knee beside my chair. “This may be a little premature...”
“David, don’t you dare.”
I stood up—to do what, I wasn’t sure. A moment later I realized my hand was resting on my holster. Surely I wasn’t thinking to shoot the man. Though from the lovesick look on his face it might put
him out of his misery.
I sat down again. “David, stop it. Get back in your chair. Now!”
I don’t know if it was my commanding voice or the fact that I’d been ready to draw my weapon, but he obliged as the sound of the conversations around us hushed, robbing us of any pretense of privacy. I looked up to see all eyes on us. Leave it to me to make a scene. I fumed as I lowered my voice. “What are you thinking, David?”
The conversations, though softer, started again as the people in the restaurant continued to glance in our direction.
David looked stunned, then hesitant. “The future.”
“But we can’t have a future unless we have a past.”
He almost whispered, “You mean like you have with Wade?”
I scooted my chair away from the table. “What do you know about that?” I said, my voice unsteady.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“It’s just... I know we don’t have a history, but I’d like to make
one. You’d said we could take things slow.”
“What does
slow
mean to you? To pop the question on our first
official lunch date?”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. That was stupid. But, I want you to know that I’m hoping the two of us will—”
“Don’t, David. My emotions are too raw, too worn to know anything but this: if you ever try that kneeling stunt again I’ll make
sure the safety is off my gun.”
He blinked once, then twice. “Whatever you say, Deputy.”
The waiter, a tall man in his twenties, interrupted us. He looked both amused and alarmed, which made me wonder how much he’d heard.
Wait. Was that one of those tiny digital cameras hidden
in his hand?
He said, “Have you had a chance to look over the menu?”
I shut mine. “I don’t think I want anything,” I said as I stood up
to leave. “Sorry, David, but I can’t stay. Catch you later, okay?”
He nodded, and without another word, I was out the door and scurrying down the sidewalk. I’d go to Vonnie’s house, but that’s where David was sure to head. So I climbed into the Bronco and headed for home. Maybe I’d call the girls later and give them a report about the lawsuit and thank them for their prayers. And maybe they’d hear my voice and realize how desperately I still needed them.
David’s speech had moved me, but to what? Insanity?
I needed time to process not just what happened today, but all that had happened in recent days. And David? He needed to understand I wasn’t like the members of Harmony’s fan club. He couldn’t drop on one knee and expect me to swoon. Poor man. I mean, he was sweet. Had been sweet. But now, at least, he knew whom he was dealing with.
I shook my head. I may have a better understanding of both God and his Son, but that didn’t seem to change the fact that I was still a crazy woman with a gun.
Clay had just finished what he now knew novelists referred to as a “plotline,” a timetable, really, that graphed out the dates of incidents and scenes the writer intended to include in his or her work. This one began with the very first potluck meeting between Evangeline Benson and Ruth Ann McDonald and ended in the present with Evangeline becoming a bride on her long-awaited wedding day.
Of course, he’d changed the names and places. He had five members rather than six; a tropical beachfront setting rather than the mountains. The women were younger in the opening chapters, older in the closing ones. He’d combined some of their stories, changed a few genders of folks along the way. But, for the most part, the six women of the Potluck Club had inspired him to a work he was sure he’d been born to write.
He was a fan of Faulkner—a big fan—and especially loved
As
I Lay Dying
, so he thought he’d write the novel with Faulkner’s style: multiple viewpoints and rich descriptions. He opened five blank documents on his laptop, labeled each one with a different name—first, middle, and last—and then began working on a list of character descriptions and traits. He was halfway through the second one when his phone rang. Woodward and Bernstein scampered a bit in their cage, and he eyed them first, then the phone, vacillating between answering and continuing in his work. The work won, and
the phone stopped ringing.
But no sooner had he begun to peck out the words than the
phone rang once more. This time he answered it.
“Clay Whitefield,” he said, momentarily forgetting he was at home.
“Clay?” A man’s voice came from the other end.
“Yes.” Clay struggled to recognize the caller.
“It’s Brad, man. Brad Sumser.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
There was a chuckle before an answer. “How fast can you get
down to Apple’s?”
Clay raised a brow. “About a minute or two. What’s going on
down there?”
Brad chuckled. “I’m standing behind the bar, right?”
“Okay.”
“And Donna and Mr. Hollywood are over in the corner having
lunch, right?”
Clay felt himself pink. “Yeah?”
“Well, you might want to get down here for this, my friend. Our Miss Deputy just got herself proposed to!”
Clay heard a swell of laughter in the background. At least he thought it was. There was every possibility his ears were merely
ringing.
“Clay?”
Clay took in a deep breath, then let it out. “What does this have
to do with me?”
“You don’t want to miss this,” Brad said. “And I gotta go. Sheriff Vernon Vesey just walked in. Man! And I was gonna call in sick today!”
Evangeline
Of course, Donna called Vonnie first, the absolute minute she got out of Chris Lowe’s office, I’m certain. Vonnie then called me, and I called Lizzie. Goldie already knew but by ethics couldn’t say anything, so she called no one and no one called her.
It was a morning for phone calls, that much was for sure.
When Vonnie called me, I told her I’d call Lizzie and Lisa Leann. I had business with both of them, after all, and I might as well kill two birds with one stone, as the old cliché goes.
I called Lizzie first, knowing my call with Lisa Leann would last the longest. Lizzie was at work. She sounded tired, and I said so.
“I am tired,” she replied. “But the good news is that Samuel will soon be heading back to work. The doctor and the physical therapist are very pleased with his progress. And you can rest easy; he’ll be able to stand next to Vernon on your wedding day.”
“That does sound good. So many handsome men lined up at the altar of Grace Church.” I smiled at the thought, then asked, “No more judging shows?”
Lizzie laughed lightly. “Samuel insists on TiVo-ing them still. I suppose if it makes him happy...” She laughed again. “Oh, Evangeline. I’ve been such a bear.”
“I’m sure you haven’t.”
“Oh, believe me. I have. But Tim and Samantha are doing so much better—thanks to their counseling sessions—and Samantha has a job now. They’re hoping to sell the house in Louisiana, and
as soon as they do, they’ll start to look here.”
I took the cordless phone into the family room and curled up on the sofa. “I don’t mean to put my two cents into business that’s not my own—”
“Since when?” Lizzie threw in.
“Ha-ha,” I said with a feigned frown. “Anyway, they might want to look into something that’s called a bridge loan. I’m surprised Samuel doesn’t know about it.”
“Real estate isn’t his forte.”
“Several of my clients have it. It allows you to buy one house while you’re selling another. Tell Tim to look into it.”
“Evie, you’re a dream. I’ll do it tonight.” She paused for a moment. “Have we heard anything from Donna yet? Have you gotten a call from Vernon?”
“Not Vernon. Vonnie. And the lawsuit was dropped.”
“Dropped? You’re kidding! Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I repeated. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it at the next meeting. You’ll be here, won’t you?”
“Of course. I’m bringing stuffed cabbage rolls.”
I licked my lips in anticipation. “Oh, I do dearly love it when you bring that dish.”
Lizzie laughed again. “Do you need for me to call anyone? To give them the praise report on Donna?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve only got to call Lisa Leann, and I need to talk to her anyway.”
We hung up, and I called Lisa Leann, giving her the news straight up. She said her glory hallelujahs, and then we talked about the wedding plans, about fittings, the shower, and everything else in between. I felt myself getting all goose-bumpy and excited. Before we hung up she said, “Oh, Evie. One more thing. I just want you to know how very upset I am about what happened at the tea. And I do apologize. Again.”
“Think nothing of it,” I said to her. “What’s done is done. You had no way of knowing who Dee Dee McGurk is.”
“Well, that much is true, but still...”
“Still nothing. You’re one of the girls now.”
Lisa Leann was quiet before she said, “I appreciate that more than you can know, Evangeline.”
I felt warm and tingly inside. It was a good feeling, but one that wouldn’t last long. My husband-to-be would soon be arriving, I noted, checking my watch, and he and I had one final issue left to talk about. One big final issue.
Vernon arrived an hour or so later looking flustered beyond words. I thought perhaps he’d heard that I’d decided most definitely on the style tux I wanted him and his men to wear and hoped against hope I was wrong.
I was wrong.
He kissed me at the door and then took me by the hand and said, “You won’t believe what just happened.” He led me into the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator door and took out a bottle of water. I heard the cracking of the top as it was being opened and watched as Vernon took a hearty chug. When he was breathing again he said, “David Harris just proposed to my daughter.”
My mouth fell open. I said not one single word. Far be it from me to say anything at a time like this.
“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to say something?” he asked before taking another, slower sip of water.
“Donna?”
Vernon jerked his head back a bit. “Well, of course Donna. What
other daughter do I have?”
Velvet
, I thought. I hadn’t been able to tell him about Velvet as of yet. This was the big issue we needed to discuss, and I thought this was as good an opening as any. “Vernon, do you think Velvet James could be your daughter?” I asked, just blurting it right out.
Vernon had the water bottle halfway to his mouth, and he stopped. He didn’t lower it or raise it; he just kept it right there in place. “Say that again?”
“Do you think Velvet James could be your daughter?” I asked again.
“No.” He took another sip.
I took a step toward him. “Vernon, think about it...”
“I don’t have to think about it, Evangeline. There’s no way she’s my daughter.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
He finished the water and set the empty bottle on the kitchen counter. “Because I’ve already put her name in with NCIC. She wasn’t born until two years after Doreen left.”
I crossed my arms over my middle. “That Doreen.” I shook my head lightly.
Vernon laughed at me. “What? Did she tell you that? That Velvet was mine?” He pointed to his chest.
I nodded, blushing to beat the band, I’m sure. “That stinker.” I held up a hand, then let it drop. “Though I have to admit, she didn’t really tell me. She just hinted at it. I guess I had that coming.”