The Sunday Potluck Club

by Melissa Storm

  “No, it’s perfect, and I’m really excited about it.” Her friend tightened her hands on the steering wheel and set her expression into a scowl.

  Amy swallowed down the last of her arguments. “Okay, then good,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the seat rest.

  “Aren’t you going to ask where I volunteered?” Bridget pressed.

  Amy turned to her friend and waited.

  “The animal shelter!” Bridget squealed, not letting Amy’s lack of enthusiasm dampen her own in the least. “Isn’t that just the perfect fit?”

  Even Amy had to admit, it did seem like a good fit. “What will you be doing for them?” she asked.

  Bridget’s jaw clenched with determination. “Walking dogs, cuddling kittens, and making sure every one of them finds a home by Valentine’s Day.”

  By Valentine’s Day? That particular holiday was hardly more than two weeks away. Bridget had to be kidding herself if she thought she could rehome every single shelter pet by then. Then again, maybe Amy was being unfair. Perhaps there weren’t too many animals at the shelter just then, or maybe Valentine’s Day was a huge adoption holiday as people spread the love not just to each other but to new pets as well.

  “How many are there? That need homes, I mean,” Amy asked cautiously.

  Bridget continued to smile broadly as she revealed, “Fourteen dogs and twenty-one cats. See, lucky number fourteen. It’s a sign that they’ll all be ready for new forever homes by Valentine’s Day.”

  “That’s a lot of animals in need of new homes,” Amy said softly. “I think it’s really noble you want to help them all, but try not to worry if it takes more time. Okay?”

  Bridget shook her head adamantly. “That’s the kind of defeatist attitude that causes people to fail before they even begin. I’m going in knowing I can do it. These animals have had hard lives, and they deserve to be happy as soon as possible. I will not fail them.”

  Oh, no. This was not going to end well. “I don’t disagree with you, but—”

  “Amy,” Bridget interrupted with a cold glance in her direction. “Just stop.”

  The drastic change in her friend’s demeanor startled Amy so much that she couldn’t have said anything even if she’d wanted to. Was Bridget changing, too? Would they still be friends as they each settled into their post-loss lives?

  Whatever happened would happen, but Amy didn’t want to knowingly push her friend away. She sat silently as Bridget navigated the remaining route to the dealership.

  Everyone was entitled to grieve in her own way—that was the rule the friends had made—and she needed to respect Bridget’s approach. They’d all faced impossible situations with their parents’ terminal diagnoses, and all except Nichole had lost someone she loved dearly to cancer. Was Bridget hurling herself into another impossible situation now to prove she could still win?

  Whatever the case, Amy hoped her friend would be okay. She also promised herself that she’d do whatever it took to help Bridget meet her goal of getting all the shelter animals adopted by Valentine’s Day. Maybe her near run-in with the stray from earlier that night had been a sign.

  Hopefully, it would prove to be positive, rather than an omen of even worse things to come.

  Chapter 8

  Bridget didn’t stick around long after she delivered Amy to the dealership. “I have a ton to do for the shelter,” she explained without a hint of apology. “And I want to see if I can find that dog you almost hit, too.”

  After a quick hug goodbye, Bridget booked it out of there, leaving Amy with the bored-looking desk attendant in the mostly empty garage. She explained her situation and gave him all the documentation he requested so the dealership could submit a full write-up to her insurance company.

  “Take this, too,” she said, sliding the business card Trent had given her across the counter.

  “Your car just came in through the back,” the attendant said with a frown as he picked up the card and added it to the pile that held her license, registration, and other important documents. “We should probably get you situated with a rental. I’ll go scan this stuff first. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. These things tend to take a while.”

  Amy watched him go, then lowered herself onto the battered club chair in the waiting area. It had a long, silver piece of duct tape stuck across the seat, which made the whole thing excessively uncomfortable. Ugh. She hoped this place was better at repairing cars than they were furniture.

  Settling back as comfortably as she could, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text to her friends’ group chat to let them know what had happened and that she was fine. Almost immediately her phone buzzed and jingled with an incoming call.

  “Are you hurt?” Hazel demanded without even offering a greeting first.

  Amy sighed as she repositioned herself on the beat-up chair. “Not hurt. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

  Hazel didn’t seem to believe her. Her panic only increased as she asked, “Where are you now? Should I come get you?”

  Amy gave up on the chair and stood. “No, Bridget already did. I’m waiting at the dealership for my rental car now.”

  Hazel gasped. “It’s so bad you need a rental? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because you’re at work, and I only needed one person to pick me up,” she explained, rubbing tight circles into her temple to stave off the headache that had started to build.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” Hazel scolded, finally starting to ease up a little.

  “Sorry,” Amy mumbled. “I’ll try to think about your reaction before I get into an accident next time.”

  Hazel groaned, and Amy could just picture her friend rolling her eyes. “Haha, very funny. But not very Amy-like, if you ask me.”

  No, that had sounded much more like something Nichole would say, and Hazel sounded more like a mother than a friend right about now.

  Neither spoke for a beat; then Hazel softened her voice and asked, “How was your first day back at school?”

  Amy was grateful for the change of subject, but she’d still rather end this call, get out of this dealership, and go home for the night. “Surprisingly good until the accident,” she answered.

  “It helps to have a distraction sometimes,” Hazel murmured. “I’m glad it’s helping you. I’ve been worried.”

  “About Bridget? Yeah, me, too.”

  “No, about you,” Hazel said pointedly.

  “But Bridget’s the one who’s acting like nothing is wrong,” Amy protested. She’d just fought with her over it, too, and she really didn’t feel like getting into another fight with another friend when she’d already been through so much that day.

  “Yes,” Hazel said slowly, drawing out the single syllable. “But you’re the one who’s become an entirely different person these last couple months.”

  “That’s hurtful,” Amy whispered as she watched the representative return to his standing desk at the front of the garage.

  “Maybe,” Hazel admitted with a sigh. “But it’s also true.”

  “I don’t really have the time for this right now,” Amy growled into the phone.

  “Fine, but just remember I love you and I’m here for you. Same as you were for me. It takes time, but you’ll get where you’re going eventually.”

  Oh, so now Hazel was the Zen master of grief? That was a new one. Amy said a quick goodbye, then ended the call.

  “All set?” the attendant asked with one brow lifted as he regarded her with a newfound smile.

  “I just want to get home, have dinner, and go to bed,” she admitted, walking over to join him at the desk. Her stomach growled as she remembered the tasty meal she’d left behind at the accident. The fries were probably scattered everywhere, but her burger should still be wrapped and ready. Unfortunately, she was too embarrassed to ask after it and too shaken to make another trip through the fast-food line. It looked like she’d be eating whatever leftovers and prepackaged food she c
ould cobble together tonight.

  “Home, yeah. I hear you on that one,” the worker said. “Well, here’s all this back. Let me go grab a rental to pull around for you.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, surprise causing her forehead to pinch with what she knew were unflattering wrinkles. “I thought you said we’d be here for a while.”

  “We will be.” He motioned toward the back. “But it seems like you’ve had a really hard day. We can call you with updates if you just leave me the best number.”

  “Bless you,” Amy said, fixing him with a smile she hoped adequately conveyed her gratitude.

  He smiled back and didn’t stop until they finished up the paperwork afterward. When he tried to return Trent’s business card to her, she shook her head and pushed it away. “You have this scanned for the insurance people, right?”

  “Right,” he acknowledged with a questioning gaze.

  “Then I don’t need this anymore. Just go ahead and throw it away.”

  His eyes lingered on hers for a brief moment before he did just that. “Whatever floats your boat,” he said with a shrug. “Be right back.”

  Amy returned to the waiting area while he went to secure the rental from farther up the lot.

  It wasn’t long before a new text message alert buzzed from inside her purse.

  Nichole.

  Hazel told me you’re being snippy today, the message read. I love it when I’m not the only one. Can I come over?

  Not tonight. I’m headed home and going straight to bed, Amy typed back.

  You sure? It’s not even 6!

  Oh, she was sure. I’ll call you tomorrow, she promised, slipping the phone back into her bag just before the worker returned with a set of keys dangling from one hand.

  “We’re giving you a free upgrade,” he said with a smile that made her wonder whether he might be trying to flirt with her. But his blond hair and stocky build weren’t her type at all. Then there was the fact that Amy had been so focused on caring for her mother this past year and a half, she’d completely put dating out of her mind—and off her schedule. If she did have a type, though, it would be much more like Trent—dark hair, piercing eyes, and that understated intensity she found so alluring.

  That was why she’d made extra sure to do away with his business card. She had only just begun to emerge from the funk of depression to begin reconnecting with her old self. If she allowed herself to fall headlong into an intoxicating new romance, she’d probably never find herself again.

  As much as she’d love to repair all the fractures that lined her heart with the healing bond of new love, she knew she needed to find a way to be whole again on her own.

  That’s why Trent’s business card—and also the very idea of him—belonged in the trash can. Soon, the dealership janitor would come and toss him away for good. Yes, Amy’s love life belonged among the dirty diapers and discarded packaging of the nearest landfill, and that’s where it would surely remain.

  Maybe just for a little while, but also maybe forever.

  Chapter 9

  The rest of that week passed by in a blur. Every day proceeded very much the same. Hazel called to check in on Amy, Bridget’s plans for her big rescue event became increasingly unrealistic, and Amy’s students continued to settle into their new classroom routine.

  Well, all her students except for Olivia.

  The little girl with the wrinkled clothes and messy hair still went most days without speaking to anyone, not even Amy. She tried partnering her with some of the more popular girls in the class, hoping it would help to bring Olivia out of her shell. Instead, poor Olivia just got picked on and retreated even further from the others.

  By Friday, Amy could no longer wait things out and hope they would get better. She needed to do something to help. So, she hastily penned a note to Olivia’s parents and sealed it in an envelope so that the little girl wouldn’t be able to read it before delivering it to them.

  If this small effort didn’t yield any positive results, her next step could very well be to call in a special education expert or even child services. She’d never spotted any bruises or otherwise questionable wounds on the girl, but Olivia’s behavior was, without a doubt, an indicator of some form of trauma. Add to this the fact she hadn’t made any progress in the classroom that week, and Amy knew something was wrong.

  She just hoped she’d be able to fix it once she learned more.

  Still, despite her worries about Olivia—and about Bridget as well—Amy’s week had actually turned out to be a good one. She was living again, feeling again, getting back to some semblance of a normal post-grief life. And now that the weekend was upon her, Amy looked forward to sleeping late and finishing the novel she’d been picking away at all week.

  Small luxuries meant something again, and for that she was ecstatic.

  After the final bell rang, Amy dismissed her students and did a quick tidying of the room. A few moments later, Hazel strode into the classroom with a giant plastic tote full of what appeared to be crafting supplies. Her boyfriend, Keith, followed with a giant, glittery heart that was at least as tall as he was.

  “The decorating committee has arrived!” Hazel sang as she set her tote on Amy’s desk with a grand flourish.

  Keith offered an apologetic smile. “Hi, Amy.”

  Amy gave her friends each a quick hug. “When did I hire a decorating committee?”

  “You didn’t,” Hazel answered breezily. “But we came, anyway. The last time we spoke, you mentioned not having a theme for your classroom this semester. So, I thought, what if we change the theme every month? It’ll be a fun change of pace for me. I so rarely get to decorate for kids.”

  “She’s already started building next month’s rainbow and pot of gold,” Keith added, making a goofy expression. “Anyway, I’m just here as the muscle. Tell me where you want this thing set up, and I’ll leave you two to tackle the rest.”

  Amy pointed wordlessly toward the reading corner. It seemed as good a place as any for the giant, unwieldy decoration. “What is that made of?” she asked, coming in for a closer look.

  “Wood mostly. That’s what makes it so heavy.” Keith hefted it up again and delivered it to the spot that Amy had suggested.

  “No skimping on materials for you, my friend,” Hazel said as she appraised the placement of the jumbo decoration. “More to the right, Keith. That way it won’t block any of the books.”

  They repositioned it several times, making such tiny changes that Amy hardly noticed any difference between adjustments. After several minutes, Hazel clasped her hands together and declared that it was now perfect.

  “Does that mean I’m dismissed, Ms. Long?” Keith asked with a quick wink toward Amy before he approached Hazel with his arms wide open.

  “Yes, and you get an A-plus.” Hazel flung herself onto Keith and gave him an enthusiastic kiss.

  Normally, Amy didn’t mind when her friends showed affection around her, but this mini teacher role-play grossed her out to the umpteenth degree. “Bye, Keith,” she said with a dismissive wave. To think she’d ever had a crush on him!

  Hazel laughed as she floated toward Amy’s desk and popped the lid off the tote she’d brought. Inside, Amy spied elegant fabrics in pink and red, heart-shaped lights, and even framed artwork depicting Cupid undertaking various G-rated adventures.

  “It feels like it’s been forever since I last saw you,” Hazel said, taking each item out of the tote and laying it neatly on Amy’s chair and desk as they talked.

  “It’s been six days,” Amy corrected her friend.

  Hazel paused and turned toward Amy with a frown. “But it feels like so much longer. Doesn’t it?”

  Amy nodded, unwilling to admit that this week had been one of the quickest she’d had in quite a long time. Maybe that was because, instead of waiting, now she was doing.

  The last year had been filled with nothing but waiting for whatever would happen next—waiting for her mother’s diagnosis, wai
ting for her death, waiting to go back to work. Yeah, Amy was definitely ready to move on from that pitiful existence, and she was excited to be decorating her classroom with Hazel now.

  They weren’t waiting for Valentine’s Day now; they were anticipating it, and that made all the difference.

  “Thanks for putting this all together,” she said as she lifted a string of lights from the cache. “The kids are going to love it. It’s not every day a highly sought-after interior designer adds new life to our lowly classroom.”

  Hazel let out a chuckle. “Like they’ll even know the difference. This is for you, Ames.”

  She finished untangling the lights and glanced up at her friend. “For me? Why?”

  “I figured you could use something bright and cheery. Along with a reminder that your friends love you and are always here when you need us.”

  Amy sniffed, unwilling to cry, no matter what the reason. If she started again, she doubted she’d be able to stop, and she definitely didn’t want to spend her entire weekend blubbering over nothing. Funny how the same words that had irritated her Monday brought her comfort now that it was Friday. Amy was changing again, and this time for the better.

  “That’s really sweet,” she said with a small smile. “Thank you.”

  Hazel smiled back, and for a moment neither said a thing. At last, Hazel cleared her throat and broke the spell. “It’s what friends do. Now help me drape these fabrics.”

  They worked quietly for a short time, making fast progress. It seemed Hazel had arrived with a plan for every single item in her tote, and Amy wasn’t one to argue when the other woman was so clearly the expert in this situation.

  “What’s your week been like?” Amy asked as they continued working together to adorn every blank surface in the room.

  Hazel shrugged. “The same as usual, except I’ve been pretty worried about my friends.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amy began with a frown. “I didn’t mean to—”