The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  I turned my head to look at her, then propped up on my elbows. “I’m not. Look at you. Your hair turned not gray, but silver. Your face barely has a wrinkle. You’ve had a houseful of children and your tummy is as flat as a sixteen-year-old’s.”

  Lizzie laughed. “Genetics.”

  I had to laugh back. “Then I should be over two-hundred pounds and have hound dog jowls.”

  “Your mother is over two-hundred pounds and has hound dog jowls?”

  I cut my eyes to her, running my fingers through my recently dyed red hair. “She deep fried everything,” I said, and then the two of us laughed so hard that tears ran down our cheeks. I rolled over on my side and propped my head in the cup of my palm. “Lizzie, seriously. I can’t believe I’m going away with Jack for a weekend. A month ago I was ready to divorce the man.” My eyes widened. “And I could too. Legally and... you know... spiritually. He’s had affairs on me since not too long after we married, and that was a long, long time ago.”

  “But he’s getting help now. Meeting with Pastor Kevin.”

  I moaned. “I really don’t know what he thinks we’re going to accomplish in two days.”

  “And two nights.” She grinned at me as though I were a virgin bride about to head off on a long-anticipated honeymoon.

  “Separate bedrooms, I told him. No funny business.”

  Lizzie rolled over onto her stomach and gave me her serious look. “Goldie, I worry you won’t last half a day. You’re vulnerable right now, and you and Jack have history. It’s not like a first date. You’ve been intimate for years.” Her eyes softened. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

  I held up my hand as though being sworn in before the judge. “I promise.” I sat up straight and looked her dead in the eye. “I mean it, Lizzie,” I said, then bounded off the bed. “And... you’ve got to help me find just the right clothes for keeping him at a safe distance. Nothing... sexy.”

  Lizzie rolled off the bed, leaving the sateen spread a mess of waves and ripples. She strolled over to the closet, reached in, and pulled my old and worn housecoat I’d owned since the late 1980s from a hook near the door. “Why don’t you just wear this, then? And maybe we can head over to the thrift store on our lunch breaks and buy you some stained sweatpants a few sizes too big and some—”

  “You are absolutely no help to me. No help at all.” I feigned disgust as I brushed past her, walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Lizzie followed. “Coffee?” I asked over my shoulder. “I made some coffee cake this morning, and there’s still a bit left.”

  “Yum. Then I’ve got to get back home. Samuel will wonder what’s keeping me so long.”

  After Lisa Leann’s shower, Lizzie and I had met for dinner, and I assumed Samuel would know we’d be out late. I said so.

  Lizzie sat at the table, folding her arms and resting them against the Formica of the table. “He misses me when I’m out too late.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Do you ever get scared being here at night all by yourself?”

  “Not really. No. Sometimes I’m a little lonely, but that passes after a phone call or two.” I turned to prepare the coffee, my hands staying busy but my mind a hundred miles and a lifetime away. Lord, where did it all go wrong?

  The coffee began to brew, and I joined Lizzie at the table. “Lizzie, can I ask you a question?”

  “You know you can.”

  “You and Samuel... you’ve never really had any problems... I mean marital problems, have you?”

  Lizzie gave her head a shake. “Not true.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” She leaned back. “You know about Michelle. Having a disabled child will put a strain on any marriage. Then, Tim ... and his little upset in college.”

  “But having a child who’s deaf or one who ‘has to get married’ in college isn’t the end of the world.”

  Lizzie sighed. “Oh, but it felt like it at the time.” She choked out a laugh. “When you don’t really have anyone to blame, you tend to blame each other. Whew, those were bad days.”

  I raised my chin. “But you and Samuel. The way you love each other. You’ve always been like you are right now. Right?”

  Lizzie stood and walked toward the coffeepot. “Don’t be silly, Goldie. After all these years of marriage; are you kidding me?” She began pouring the coffee into two mugs I’d placed there moments earlier as I pulled the coffee cake from the cake pan in the corner of the countertop. “Oh, that does look good,” she said.

  “Thank you. How big a piece do you want?”

  “Not very. If I eat too much this late, I’ll have trouble falling asleep.”

  I chuckled. “We’re getting old.”

  “Maybe you are,” she said with a wink, carrying the mugs of coffee to the table, the steam from them emitting a most delicious aroma.

  I joined her with two small plates, a couple of forks, and the coffee cake. As I sliced it, I said, “So tell me. I mean, if you don’t mind being personal.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” She took a sip from her mug, wrapping her slender fingers around it like a cozy. “In the early years... the really early years... Samuel was the moodiest man you’d ever want to meet.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Like you can’t imagine.”

  “I can’t imagine that,” I said, repeating her words as I slid a plate topped with coffee cake toward her. “Not Samuel. He’s the easiestgoing man I think I’ve ever been around.”

  “That’s what you see.” She retrieved a fork from the tabletop and stabbed the coffee cake with it, then brought it to her mouth. “Mmm. This is good.”

  I took a bite of the cake for myself. “I did pretty good, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “Okay, back to you and Samuel,” I said, waving my fork at her.

  She smiled. “That’s about it, Goldie. He was very moody in those days and oftentimes difficult to live with. Back then, he was working his way up to being the president of the bank. It seemed to me that was all he had on his mind. Work, work, work. We’d come home from work—both of us—and I’d want to tell him all about my day. But he just wanted to sit in front of the television with the remote and watch the news or read the paper or whatever ‘success’ book he was reading at the time.” For a moment Lizzie’s eyes held a faraway look, then she shook her head and smiled at me. “He’s a good man; don’t get me wrong. And I love him dearly. Probably more than I let him know. But, that man can infuriate me like nobody’s business.”

  I rested my fork against the side of my plate and picked up the coffee mug. “But, he’s never... I mean, to your knowledge, he’s never...”

  Lizzie looked up at me sharply. “Had an affair on me? No. That much I’m certain of.”

  My shoulders drooped. “And I can’t even count the number Jack has had.”

  Lizzie reached across the table, touching my arm with her fingertips. “He’s getting help, Goldie.”

  “I know.”

  Lizzie paused for a moment, then spoke. “Goldie, tell me something. Do you still love Jack? Because if you don’t, well, then, that’s an issue unto itself. But, if you do...”

  I didn’t answer at first. Oh, sure, I knew the answer. The answer haunted me every single day of my life. But it was more complicated than just yes or no. There was a huge “but” at the end of the answer that muddied the waters, as my daddy always said.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “It’s not as simple as a yes or no.”

  “Tell me.”

  I placed my coffee mug back on the table. “Lizzie, I know what everybody in this town has been saying about me. What kind of a fool woman stays with a man who runs around on her? And I honestly don’t have an answer for that one. I don’t. I could say that it was because I loved him or I hoped he would change or that I believe so strongly in my wedding vows I can’t imagine ever divorcing. I could blame it on having Olivia and not wanting to bust up her little home. Or, I could just s
ay that I was living a comfortable enough life—nice home, good friends, didn’t have to work outside the home—or whatever. But, the fact of the matter is, I don’t know why I stayed. It certainly wasn’t because I was getting fine jewelry every time he ended one of his affairs. No matter what people might think.”

  Lizzie pressed her lips together. “The patience of Job, I always figured.”

  I humphed. “Job, nothing. The patience of Noah’s wife is more like it.”

  Lizzie chuckled. “All right.”

  “Yes, I love Jack. I wouldn’t have stayed married to him all these years if I’d merely liked the man. You know, Jack’s not all bad.” I peered at the ceiling for a moment, then back to my friend. “Oh, Liz. If you could have known him when we first met. Before all this started. He was so suave. So adorable. And loving toward me? Please. It was as if the man absolutely worshiped me.”

  “When did it stop being that way?”

  “Not even two years into the marriage. He still treated me well, and when we had Olivia he was a wonderful father to her.”

  Lizzie sighed. “What I don’t understand, Goldie, is how he managed to make the rank of deacon in the church while all this was going on.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “He was in church leadership before it really got out, I think. For the longest time—until this last one, really—he kept all his women to out of town. If he hadn’t been buying me off with jewelry, I wouldn’t have known it myself.”

  “What was it about the jewelry that—”

  “His father did the same thing. To his mother. She warned me not too long after we’d married and... maybe that’s why I stayed. His mother had stayed, and in the end she still had her home and her family. She seemed so content, and I loved her so much I—”

  “Oh, dear. The sins of the father.”

  “Yep.” I took a long sip of coffee. “In answer to your question, I don’t know why the church allowed him to retain his position, but Pastor Kevin has removed him now. I think that Jack is glad of it, to be honest. It’s a discipline he has to go through, and that’ll only make him stronger. Better in the end.” I sighed. “When Jack began having an affair with Charlene Hopefield, the Spanish teacher from Summit View high school, for crying out loud, I think... I think that... deep down, Jack wanted to be caught. He thinks so too. Or at least that’s what he’s said.”

  “Charlene Hopefield,” Lizzie breathed out. “I don’t know about that woman.”

  “Not to mention her age. Over twenty years difference between her and Jack.”

  “She’s a flaunty one, and you know I don’t like to talk ill of anyone.”

  I smiled at Lizzie. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Jack told Samuel that he ended it with Charlene right after you left.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. He knew if he wanted to get me back... and Pastor Kevin told him that he wouldn’t work with him at all if that wasn’t the first step taken.”

  “Do you ever see her?”

  I stood and walked toward the coffeepot on the other side of the room, bringing it back to the table with me before I answered. “Summit View, Colorado, isn’t exactly New York or Chicago. Of course I see her.” I topped off our coffee mugs. “I don’t say anything to her. Not one word. If she walks into a store, I walk out. If she’s coming down my side of the street, I cross it.”

  “But you didn’t do anything wrong. She’s the one who... well, it’s your call.” Lizzie took another bite of coffee cake before continuing. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do anything and everything to avoid her either. One thing’s for sure; she’s as far out of your life as she can get in little Summit View.” She looked down at her watch. “I’ve got to get going. Samuel will get in one of his moods if I’m not home soon.” She winked at me as she stood. “So, you leave tomorrow?” she asked, taking her plate to the sink. “For Summit Ridge?”

  “I’ll get that,” I said, then added, “Tomorrow after church. Jack said he’d pick me up here in the afternoon and we’d go on up.”

  “Like I said before,” Lizzie concluded, “just be careful.”

  “I will,” I reassured her. “I promise.”

  “Charlene Hopefield is out of your life,” Lizzie had said.

  But she wasn’t. Isn’t. Not by a long shot.

  Lizzie hadn’t been gone five minutes when my doorbell rang. I’d already stepped into the small bath adjoining my bedroom and begun to scrub my face when I heard the gentle chime. Grabbing a hand towel, I patted my face dry as I moved toward the front of the condo, calling out, “I’m coming.”

  When I got to the front door, I switched on the porch light and peeked out the peephole. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight on end. It was Charlene Hopefield. No store to walk out of or street to cross, I thought as I drew back.

  “What do you want?” I called through the closed door. I peeked through the hole again.

  She wrapped her arms around herself as though she were freezing to death. “Goldie, I need to talk to you. Please. It’s very important.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. What in the world did that woman have to say that would be of any interest to me?

  “My name—as far as you’re concerned—is Mrs. Dippel.”

  I watched her roll her eyes. Even in the dim overhead porch light, her disdain for me was evident. “Whatever. I need to speak with you. It’s important. I’m being nice here. Nice enough to come to you instead of going over to Jack’s and talking to him.”

  I flipped the lock and jerked the door open. “You stay away from my husband,” I said.

  She just stared at me. “May I come in or not?”

  I stepped aside. “May as well.” I looked down at her snowcovered boots. “But wipe your feet; I don’t need your slushy mess on my carpet.”

  Charlene pounded her feet on the front mat for a few moments, then looked back up at me. “Will that do?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Cocky little thing.

  “I guess.”

  She stepped over my threshold, pulling her long dark wool coat from her somewhat pudgy body. She held it toward me as though she actually expected me to take it, then threw it across the chair behind her. “Is that coffee I smell?” she asked. “Decaf? Because I can’t have regular.”

  “It’s stale,” I answered, crossing my arms over my middle. “What do you want, Charlene?”

  She turned toward the sofa and extended her arm a bit. “May I?” she asked.

  I arched my brow. “May you what?”

  “Sit? I’m exhausted.” And then she sat down, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t invited her to do so. “Not to mention I’ve been waiting across the street for your friend to leave. My gosh, what do you people have to talk about so long? My back end was going numb from sitting in my car that whole time.” She paused. “Please sit, Goldie.”

  I coughed out a snicker. “I beg your pardon? I’ll decide when or if I sit down. This is my home.”

  She nodded and looked around. “So it is. It’s... nice. Certainly not the home you left, but it’s... nice.”

  “You know nothing about my home.” I sat in the nearest chair, one I’d picked up cheap at a thrift store down on Dyer Street.

  She slid herself back on the sofa like a plump goddess, crossing one leg over the other. “Oh, Goldie, Goldie, Goldie.” She laughed, sounding more like a cat than a woman. “Silly, silly Goldie.”

  I flushed red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. If Jack had brought that woman into my home, he could take her and Summit Ridge and all the years we had between us, and choke on them as far as I was concerned.

  “I hear you’re going away for the weekend,” she purred. When the question she clearly expected from me flashed in color on my face, she answered without my saying a word. “Oh, you know. One person tells one person and that person tells another. Eventually, it got to me. Summit Ridge, I understand?” I raised my chin before she went on. “Quaint. Not anywhere I’d want to be... le
ast not with Jack... but for the two of you... well, I suppose it could be... quaint. Anyway,” she said, stretching and draping her arms around her knees, “that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because we have a bit of a problem.”

  “I can’t imagine what,” I said. “You are no longer a part of my husband’s life and therefore no longer a part of mine.” My heart began to pound as though it knew that life as I’d known it not ten minutes earlier was about to change forever.

  Charlene looked down at her groomed fingernails, long and pointy and painted a frosty red. “How do I say this, Goldie? How do I put this delicately?”

  “Mrs. Dippel,” I corrected her in the firmest voice I could muster.

  She looked up at me sharply. “Okay, then, Mrs. Dippel. Here’s the deal: I’m pregnant, Mrs. Dippel. And the father of my child, Mrs. Dippel, is none other than your husband.”

  As soon as Charlene said the word pregnant, the blood rushed out of my head, past my heart, and out my toes. Lord have mercy, I’m surprised it didn’t just pool right there on the dingy living room carpet of my condo, adding stain on top of stain. I’m also a little shocked I didn’t have a heart attack and die right there on the spot. Somehow I managed to live. Somehow, after my vision had all but blacked completely out, it returned, bringing the blood back to my head, though I’m sure it was more like dishwater.

  Charlene stood abruptly. “I see I’ve left you speechless,” she said as she reached for her coat. “I’m sure you have a lot to think about, and I’ll leave you to do so.”

  As she shoved her arms into the coat sleeves, I stood on legs made of jelly and said, “You can’t just waltz in here and make a statement like that and then leave. I—I don’t believe you. I don’t. You’re just upset because Jack and I are going away together.”

  Charlene spit out a cackle as she wrapped the sash of her coat around her waist. “Oh, please! Like I could care less at this point. Do you really think I was in love with that lug?”

  I crossed my arms over my middle again, feeling a strange sense of protection for the lug. “So what you’re saying is that you’re the kind of woman who would just run off with anyone’s husband? The kind of woman who would... who would...” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.