the Potluck Club
Takes the Cake
the Potluck Club
Takes the Cake
A NOVEL
Linda Evans Shepherd
and Eva Marie Everson
Grand Rapids, Michigan
©2007 by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
Published by Fleming H. Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Printed in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shepherd, Linda Evans.
Takes the cake : a novel / Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson.
p. cm. — (The Potluck Club)
ISBN 10: 0-8007-3074-7 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-8007-3074-1 (pbk.)
1.Women—Societies and clubs—Fiction. 2. Female friendship—Fiction.
3. Prayer groups—Fiction. 4. Women cooks—Fiction. 5. Colorado—Fiction.
6. Cookery—Fiction. I. Everson, Eva Marie. II. Title.
PS3619.H456T35 2007
813′.6—4dc22 2006100323
To Preston L. Purvis (1931–2006)—my daddy—who loved the stories of the Potluck Club and looked forward to the next installment. I love you and miss you more than I ever imagined possible.—“Ree-Baby”
Eva Marie Everson
To Eva and all my dear friends of the Advanced Writer’s and Speaker’s Association. What a team of encouragers you are. How glad I am that you are in my life.
Linda Evans Shepherd
Fiction by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
The Potluck Club
The Potluck Club—Trouble’s Brewing
Fiction by Eva Marie Everson
Shadow of Dreams
Summon the Shadows
Shadows of Light
Fiction by Linda Evans Shepherd
Ryan’s Trials
Kara’s Quest
Tangled Heart
Contents
1. Buttered Biscuits
2. Lisa Leann—Tea for Two
3. I’ll Take the Works
4. Vonnie—Blended Family
5. A Brand-New Me
6. Goldie—On a Low Boil
7. I Thought I ’Thaw a Puddy-Tat
8. Donna—Poached Paparazzi
9. Who’s That Girl?
10. Goldie—Sweet Revenge
11. A New Detective in Town
12. Lizzie—Family Upside-Down Turnovers
13. Move Over, John Grisham
14. Evangeline—Spilling Secrets
15. Between a Rock and a Hollywood Place
16. Goldie—Honeymoon Chillers
17. Are You Talkin’ to Me?
18. Donna—High Altitude Directions
19. What’s Good for the Goose
20. Vonnie—Prayer Preserves
21. Apple’s of Gold
22. Donna—Recipe for a Rescue
23. Business as Usual
24. Lizzie—Dicey Discovery
25. Coffee with a Mind Reader
26. Evangeline—Frosted Parley
27. A Plot Twist
28. Lisa Leann—Burning Words
29. Death of a Salesman
30. Goldie—Spicy Tea
31. Here Comes Trouble
32. Vonnie—Roasted Revelation
33. A Million Little Pieces
34. Donna—Digesting the News
35. The Great American Novelist
36. Lizzie—Fresh-Brewed Day
37. The Good Egg
38. Goldie—Steamed Encounters
39. Going Home
40. Donna—On the Lunch Menu
41. As He Sat Typing
42. Evangeline—Feasting on Dreams
43. Wonder Where... Wonder Who...
44. Lisa Leann—Party Nibbles
45. Ice Castles
46. Evangeline—Going Nuts
47. Her Good Side
48. Lisa Leann—French-Fried Plans
49. All in All a Good Day
50. Donna—Plum Amazing
51. Reporter’s Eye View
52. Evangeline—Heart-Stirring Wedding
53. What the Journalist Saw
The Potluck Club Recipes
How to Have a Christmas Tea
1
Buttered Biscuits
A lot had happened to the ladies of the Potluck Club.
A lot.
Then again, a lot had happened to Clay Whitefield, ace reporter for the Gold Rush News, though neither the job nor the title kept him going. What really buttered his biscuits was keeping his eyes and ears open to whatever was happening to his favorite ladies of Summit View, Colorado. The ladies of the Potluck Club.
Evangeline Benson, chief potlucker, had started the club in the dining room of her home years ago when she and the late Ruth Ann McDonald gathered for coffee cake and prayer. By the time Ruth Ann had passed on to glory, the club had grown, adding Lizzie Prattle, high school librarian and wife of Samuel, president of the Gold Mine Bank; Vonnie Westbrook, retired nurse and wife of Fred; Goldie Dippel, one-time homemaker, now legal secretary and wife of Coach Jack Dippel; and Donna Vesey, a deputy sheriff. Finally, and most recently, Lisa Leann Lambert, Texas transplant, had added herself to the mix.
Back up. The other thing that kept Clay Whitefield on his reporter’s toes was the aforementioned Donna Vesey, the youngest member of the Potluck Club.
Clay got up from the scarred desk in his tiny one-room apartment overlooking Main Street, which he shared with his two gerbils, Woodward and Bernstein. He needed a break from the notes he was tapping into his laptop computer, so he walked over to the single window overlooking the touristy town he called home and peered down to the snow-blown streets below.
He wondered what those ladies of the Potluck Club might be up to now. That’s when it hit him. It was Saturday. And not just any Saturday. Potluck Club Saturday. Rumor had it the venue had been changed to Lisa Leann’s home so as to blend a baby shower with the monthly potluck and prayer meeting.
Lisa Leann, his newest and most controversial columnist over at the Gold Rush News.
His stomach rumbled a bit as he spotted Fred Westbrook’s pickup truck heading down Main Street and turning toward where Lisa Leann lived. Clay cocked a red brow. Fred wasn’t alone. But who was that with him?
Could it be... nah... it couldn’t be.
Or could it?
Lisa Leann
2
Tea for Two
I had to admire how clever Clay was to stalk his story about Vonnie and her “secret” son all the way through my front door and into my daughter’s baby shower. I could picture his headline now: “Hollywood’s David Harris’s Mother Is None Other Than Our Own Vonnie Westbrook! Ta-da!!”
I would have spilled the scoop to Clay myself if it hadn’t been so risky. (As the newest and only uninvited member of the Potluck Club, that kind of spill would have gotten me the boot for sure.)
But Vonnie’s story is so prime time it might even bring in the TV news trucks from Denver, not to mention the crew from Hollywood Nightly. And to think, it was Summit View’s own Clay Whitefield who broke the story.
I made sure I was in earshot as Clay interviewed the players of this little drama as they sat in a corner near the firepl
ace.
First there was David, the son of Harmony Harris, the actress often considered the queen of the Hollywood musicals. Her frenzied fans had hounded both her and her secrets, trysts, and fortunes her entire career. Much as they did with Elvis, the press continued to unravel the seams of her private life even after her recent death to cancer. Their fascination with her was centered in part on the “who” of David’s father. In fact, the names of her most famous male costars were often linked to his paternity. So, this revelation that David was actually Harmony’s adopted son would cause a sensation.
And to think David’s birth mother was none other than our own ho-hum Potlucker Vonnie Westbrook, Sunday school teacher and retired nurse. Astounding.
As it turned out, Vonnie had been secretly married to a Latin hottie, a Joseph Ray Jewell, who’d been killed in ’Nam. And to think, poor old boring Fred, Vonnie’s current husband of thirty-five years, had never suspected his dear wife had been married before, much less had a child.
But surprise! He’d made the discovery in recent weeks, and now it looked like he was starting to come to terms with it. I mean, he was the one who’d picked David up at the Denver International Airport this afternoon and brought him to Mandy’s little baby shower. Bless his heart.
I pulled up a chair, with my back to Clay’s interview, and took in every word.
Clay asked the questions I would have asked myself, like, “Say, Fred, how’d it feel when you found out your wife had been secretly married to another man?” “David, what was it like to grow up with a movie star for a mother?” “Vonnie, why’d you keep your first marriage a secret?” “Did you really believe your baby died at birth?” You know—all the interesting stuff.
I tried to be a fly on the wall, but my other guests kept demanding my attention. That was to be expected, as this was the first time the Potluckers had been over to my luxury condo for a meeting. Of course, I knew I’d read the interview in the paper soon enough. But I wanted to see how Clay would translate it into print. And since I was the local paper’s newest advice columnist, I had a lot I could learn from such a scoop still in progress.
After Clay pulled his camera from his Jeep and took a few photographs of the reunited pair, I insisted he help himself to a plate of food.
That spark of appreciation in his eyes quickly faded as he watched David Harris make a beeline for Donna, who though dressed in black sweats, still looked adorable, especially now that her buzzed hair was growing out in blonde curls.
When I turned back to Clay, his crestfallen countenance told me it was just as I suspected: he was sweet on the girl deputy. Why, I’d seen those two not that long ago locked in what appeared to be an intimate embrace right on the sidewalk outside of the Higher Grounds Café. Thank goodness my wedding shop is just across the street so I can watch the locals for signs of romance.
It’s not that I’m nosey, but as a wedding consultant, romance is my business, so knowing about any public displays of affection would only improve my bottom line, if you know what I mean.
While the girls were helping themselves to dessert, I managed to sit down next to Clay. The poor boy could hardly keep his eyes off David and Donna. I kept my voice low. “Clay, you look absolutely lovesick.”
His eyes turned to me. “What? No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, and darlin’, don’t be embarrassed. I’ve known your secret for a long time now.”
His freckles seemed to stand on end. “My secret?”
“Clay, I’m a trained professional, so some things are more obvious to me than to others.”
He folded his arms over his denim shirt and cocked his head. He seemed both nervous and amused. “What sort of things?”
“Why, Clay Whitefield, you’re absolutely smitten with Donna.”
Clay blanched. “Uh, well. We grew up together, you know. Of course I care about her.”
“Honey, you’re head over heels.”
A burst of laughter from Donna caused Clay’s head to snap in her direction.
I tapped his shoulder and leaned in. “Dear, you’ve got it bad.”
Clay looked a bit sheepish. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say David Harris and I are after the same thing. From where I sit, I’d say Harris is winning.”
I gave him my sweetest smile. “What you need is a romance coach.”
Clay looked tempted to go for his notepad. “Say that again?”
“A romance coach.”
Clay grinned and leaned forward. “And I suppose you know one?”
“Yes, darlin’, I’m one of the best. My methods not only helped me snag my husband Henry, but they’ve helped to launch a thousand marriages.”
Clay turned his full attention to me. “I’ve never heard that term, but it’s an interesting concept. Maybe I could write an article explaining that you’re offering this service at your shop.”
“That sounds great, and while I’m at it, I’ll give you some suggestions to try yourself. Deal?”
“Me?” Clay shrugged. “I’m open to hear what you have to say. As a reporter, of course.”
Donna laughed again, and Clay’s head spun back to the couple on my pink velvet loveseat.
I smiled. “I’ll explain everything, and if you follow my advice, you’ll be as good as engaged.”
Clay looked skeptical, but I could tell he was more than interested. Else why would he agree to interview me?
While I was conferring with Clay, I’d failed to notice some of my guests were ready to dash off into the afternoon. When I glanced out the window, which was swagged with lace and pink ruffles, sure enough, the angle of the bright sun was just starting to cast a few shadows. Hard to believe it would be dark in only a few hours.
Vonnie and Fred waved from the front door. “Thanks for everything, Lisa Leann, we had a wonderful time,” Vonnie said.
I jumped up, almost spilling my cooling cup of coffee. “You’re leaving already?” I said, rushing to the door.
I set my cup on the hallway table and stopped to help Lizzie Prattle slip into her coat. She gestured to her daughter-in-law. “That goes for me and Samantha too. We simply must get home.”
Before I could say good-bye, Donna then Goldie Dippel hurried down the stairs behind the Prattles. Goldie looked so good after that makeover I’d given her, it was hard to guess she was a woman in marital crisis. How her two-timing husband could have looked outside his own bedroom door for company was beyond me. I could hardly believe she was going to go away with him for the weekend. I shuddered. She’d probably catch some VD if she let him have his way with her.
“Thanks for coming,” I called after them as they waved a goodbye.
When I turned around, I found Evie with her hand on her hip, giving me a glare so hard it made me jump. She said, “Well, so much for working on the Christmas tea this afternoon. But never mind. I was Jan’s right hand on this event for years, so it would be best if I just took over the project myself.”
“Evie, dear,” I said in a voice I hoped would soothe her ruffled feathers. “My helping you on this task is no bother at all. It really is my cup of tea, if you’ll pardon the pun. And since the pastor made us co-leaders, why don’t you and I confer for a few minutes and work out the details.”
“Honestly, Lisa Leann, I’ve decided to cancel the event. Traditionally, we’ve held our tea the week before Christmas, and here it is, already Saturday of the week before the week before. So, there’s just no time.”
“Nonsense,” I said, knowing Evie had no intention of dropping the event. This “sudden cancellation” was a power grab if I ever saw one. I played along. “But I’m perfectly happy to accept your resignation. After all, you’ve had quite a week, what with being engaged to two different men. You need a break, for sure.” I patted her arm. “So, the tea will probably go better if I run it myself anyway. I’m thinking I’ll host the event the Wednesday between Christmas and New Years. That should work great since there will be no service that night. It’ll give our la
dies a lovely break during the holidays. And the best part is we’ll be able to announce it both Sundays.”
By now, David and the Westbrooks had headed out the door. Clay walked to my side. “Thanks for letting me stay. The meal was scrumptious, especially the pineapple fruitcake. I don’t always care for fruitcakes, but when I heard you made it, I knew it would be delicious.”
“Glad you liked it. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” I studiously avoided looking at Evangeline as I said, “In fact, I’m thinking of serving it at the annual Christmas tea the Wednesday just before New Years.”
“So, this annual Grace Church event hasn’t been canceled after all,” Clay said with a grin. “Hey, I’ll email you to get the details later tonight. If I get right on it, there’ll be time enough to print the announcement in the paper. And the night of—I’ll show up with my camera, if that’s okay. This could be a great story about how a church is healing from the loss of their beloved pastor’s wife. I bet I could get some excellent quotes from your ladies.”
I ignored the fiery darts I was receiving from Evie and said, “Great idea. The tea starts at seven.”
Before I turned back to Evie I could almost see the steam curling from her ears. As Clay slid into his parka and bounded down the front steps, Evie turned to me and said, “You had no right to go to the press before this was settled.”
“Oh, I thought we’d just decided it. Besides, the press came to me.”
I was just beginning to understand how the power of the press could become one of my greatest assets.
Evie stared back. “I have not tendered my resignation, and I’m still co-chair of this event. We may have to change the date and time as you suggested, but it will be held in the tradition it has always been held, though a tea held at seven instead of four might as well be called a dessert.”
I could feel my eyebrows climb up my forehead, but I kept my voice honey sweet. “And what tradition is that, may I ask?”
Evie looked me up and down, making me feel as if my red fringed silk and velvet evening jacket, which I had slipped over a slinky black cocktail dress, was well beyond her admiration or comprehension.
The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake Page 1