“Tell me, darling, you’re not seeing David after he falsely announced your engagement on national TV?”
Donna crossed her arms over her black leather jacket and frowned. “David and me? Well, our relationship is complicated, though I don’t see it as any concern of yours.”
“But sweetie, is he really your type? I would have thought someone more down to earth, someone like Clay, for instance, would have more appeal.”
The door pushed open again, and a chilly breeze swept over us. Donna cocked her head. “He’s got a girlfriend, or haven’t you heard?”
“Well, Donna, he’s a handsome man. I’m sure a lot of girls are attracted to him. Including you, perhaps?”
A deep voice spoke up from behind me. “Ah, this is an interesting conversation, and I hate to interrupt, but...”
I turned suddenly. Why, if it wasn’t that handsome devil himself. “Clay! I’m so glad you’re here. Donna and I were just talking about you.”
Clay looked from Donna to me and grinned. “So I gathered.” He patted his camera case that was slung across one shoulder. “So, where should we start shooting, at one of the tables?”
I gave him one of my winning smiles. “How about starting by telling me if the rumor’s true that you’re dating someone?”
Clay turned red and stared hard at Donna. “Well, ah, maybe as a friend.”
Donna laughed. “Friend, my eye, Clay. I’ve seen you and what’s her name. Britney? I’ve seen the two of you around town, looking, let’s say, very cozy.”
Clay shrugged, looking awkward. “No, no, it’s not like that. We’re friends, that’s all.”
Another voice, one from just behind us, said, “Friends? Clay!”
So help me if we didn’t turn around to see Miss Britney herself standing there, looking pretty in her pink leather coat with the faux fur hood that framed her sweet little face. She was holding a box of Christmas party supplies that included festive paper plates and napkins. For one of our tables? I thought. How tacky! But I tried to sound sweet when I said, “Britney, honey, is there something I can help you with?”
“I came in the back way as I was running these items down from the card shop, for Goldie. I guess she’s decorating a table here today?” She tossed her head in a way to direct a look at me but at the same time to exclude Clay from the conversation. “Where do you want these?”
I put my arm around her and led her away from the couple I was trying to match. We didn’t need any competition, if you know what I mean. “Honey, be a dear and put those things on the far table in the corner. Would you?”
When I turned around, I almost ran into Clay, who was close on our heels. “I’m sorry, Britney,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”
I turned to see Donna offer a wave as she headed out the door. Britney put her hands on her hips. “I guess not,” she said, slamming the box onto the table before pushing past him.
“Wait up,” Clay called after her.
“What about the interview?” I called behind him.
He pushed open the double doors just as Britney disappeared into the cold. “Uh, there’s something I’ve gotta do. I’ll be back later.”
For heaven’s sake! How could I fix him up with Donna when he was chasing another woman down the sidewalk? This could be one match I was going to lose, and not through any fault of my own.
I frowned. I’d get to the bottom of this later. In the meantime, Evie was waving at me from across the room.
I approached and took in her table. She had quite the thing going with a bead-decked pine wreath centerpiece that was filled with red and gold candles on long brass candlesticks. She’d carefully placed dark green ceramic plates with matching green stemware at each place setting. On top of each plate sat a lovely red-wrapped gift tied in gold string.
“That’s lovely, Evie. What’s in the gift boxes?”
She looked down at them absentmindedly. “Oh, they’re empty. Just props.”
I cocked my eyebrows. “Oh. Well. It’s a lovely effect.”
“You really like it?”
“I do,” I said with a grin. “The gold foil place mats are a nice touch.”
“Are you all set for the auction tonight?”
“Yep. I’ve got a bumper crop of gift certificates and gift baskets, plus several women will be bringing homemade craft items to auction off too. I’ve got a place set up in the back.”
Evie looked at me thoughtfully. “That’s nice. Do you have the special music covered?”
“Oh yes, it will be quite the surprise.”
“Oh?” A shadow seemed to fall across her face, but then she brightened. “Well, you’ve certainly been a good sport about taking my direction. And to tell you the truth, Lisa Leann, I didn’t realize it, but I really needed your help.”
What an admission! But I didn’t make a big production out of it; I simply smiled and said, “We all really do need one another, don’t we?”
She nodded. “So tomorrow, you and I will get back to work on the wedding plans?”
“Drop by the shop,” I said. “I’ve got some pictures of flower arrangements to show you. And I want to go over my ideas for the church.”
“Okay.”
As I walked back to the kitchen to see how the food prep was coming, I couldn’t help but smile. Who’d have thought it would be the Christmas tea that would bring Evie and me together. I checked my watch. Oh my, it was only a few hours away.
But no worries. What could go wrong?
29
Death of a Salesman
Clay rushed out the doors of the Grace Church fellowship hall.
“Britney, will you wait up?”
Britney was at a standstill in the middle of the parking lot, and Clay thanked his lucky stars she’d come in the back way and couldn’t easily jump in her car and drive away. She could walk away, alright, but she’d be knee deep in snow before she hit the road.
“I have nothing to say to you right now.” Britney turned away from him and walked toward a row of parked cars and to where his Jeep was parked.
Clay reached her, having jogged toward her as carefully as he could manipulate the camera slung over his shoulder and the snow beneath his feet. “Would you listen then?” He glanced around. Fortunately there weren’t any nosy women lurking about, including Donna, who’d apparently managed to get going before Britney had stormed out of the church.
Britney lifted her pretty chin and closed her eyes, the perfect martyr. He couldn’t help but smile.
“Do you want to get in the Jeep or stand out here and freeze to death?” he asked.
“I’ll stand right here.” She paused. “And I’m listening,” she said, opening her eyes to him then. He saw the beginnings of tears forming.
“Now, don’t start the crying thing. Look, I asked Lisa Leann to help me get Donna’s attention weeks and weeks ago.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But that was before you got my attention.” He watched as her shoulders squared. “Donna is a friend. She’ll always be a friend. We go way back. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to her, but... I realize now that we’re just going to be friends.”
A tear escaped Britney’s eye, and she pushed it away with her leather-gloved hand. “Then why did that woman in there seem to be so excited about you and Donna?”
“That’s just Lisa Leann, Britney. She fancies herself a bit of a yenta.”
She had begun to shiver. “She was practically giddy, Clay.”
Clay took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay,” he said. “There was a time when Donna could have been... well, in my mind anyway... could have been more than a friend. But a friend is all she is. I swear.” He opened his arms, and she stepped in. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. “I haven’t told Lisa Leann to back off yet. She doesn’t mean any harm to us, Britney. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”
“Oh, I’m mad all right,” she said, though to his ears she wasn’t convincing. “So
why haven’t you told her?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his shirt.
“There hasn’t been time. Work is crazy, you and I have been seeing each other nearly nonstop, Christmas, and... there’s been some other stuff I’ve been looking into.”
She raised her head. “Like what?”
“Like... I... I can’t talk about it right now. Let’s just say I’m investigating something. Something important.”
She smiled up at him, and he kissed the tip of her nose. They still had the “no kissing” rule, so this was as close as he would get. “Really important?”
“Really, very important. It could turn this whole club upside down.”
“The Potluck Club?” She looked toward the church.
He nodded. It was all he wanted to say right then. After all, Britney already knew a hint of what he knew; she’d met Velvet James before he did. She just didn’t know what he knew. “Ready to go back inside and help me take pictures?”
Britney turned and linked her arm with his. “I’ll be your assistant,” she said proudly.
“And such a pretty one too,” he said, glad to have his world righted again.
Goldie
30
Spicy Tea
I was more than grateful that Britney had agreed to take the paper plates and napkins over to Grace for me. With work piling up and my personal life seemingly falling apart more than most people realized, I hadn’t had time to “put on the dog” as my mama used to say. There would be no china and crystal decorating my table at the Christmas tea. I was doing well enough to have baked my grandmother’s recipe for Southern fruitcake that was to be served as one of the desserts.
As five o’clock neared, I shut down my computer, straightened my desk into neat little piles of work to attack in the morning, and then walked into the break room. I pulled the coffeepot out of the coffeemaker and fleetingly wondered whatever happened to percolators. Now those things could make a good cup of coffee. But they, like so many wonderful things in life, had a way of disappearing. Or becoming relics. The old replaced with the new.
I shivered as I stood at the sink, running water into the pot, adding a squirt of dishwashing liquid, and swishing it around with the yellow sink sponge. I still hadn’t told Jack about Charlene, in spite of Lizzie’s encouragement. I would have told him the night Lizzie and I had met for coffee had it not been for Samuel’s accident. Then the following night Charlene showed up at my place again, wanting to know my opinion on how we were all going to live with this new addition to the Dippel bloodline in Summit View. And did I have any thoughts on how she should tell Jack.
“I’ve thought about telling him myself,” I told her. I squared my chin. After all, he was my husband. I still had some rights.
Charlene prowled around my living room like a caged tiger waiting for its steak dinner while I stood near the front door with my arms crossed.
“But you haven’t,” she said, stopping.
“Not yet. Lizzie Prattle’s husband hurt his—”
She raised her hand. “I don’t really care, Goldie. Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Dippel. What I do care about is how we are all going to handle this. Personally, I haven’t said a word to Jack yet. I want to know first what you are going to do. Have you told Olivia? After all, she’ll be my baby’s older sister.” She placed her hand on her stomach. Charlene wasn’t thin by any means, so it was difficult to see if she was showing yet or not. Still, I stared, which caused Charlene to say, “I’m not showing yet, if you’re wondering. My doctor says that first babies don’t usually cause their mothers to show right away.”
Not to mention the extra padding, I thought but said nothing in response. Rather, I addressed my daughter’s relationship to this unborn child. “My daughter doesn’t know. She’s pregnant herself and—”
“Isn’t that wild?” she said with a laugh. “Jack’s daughter and Jack’s mistress pregnant at the same time.” She took a step toward me. “Here’s what I’m thinking: you and Jack will get a divorce and that will allow Jack to move in with me so he can help me take care of Little Junior here.” She patted her tummy again.
“Move in with you?” I was stunned by this new revelation, let me just say.
She curled her lip. “I told you before. I don’t want to marry him, but I’m certainly not up for doing the diaper and bottle thing on my own.”
Well, bless her heart.
I had to tell Jack. I just had to. But how? And when?
I dried the coffeepot and the four or five mugs dirtied during the day and placed them in their rightful places. I dried my hands on the dishcloth, retrieved my coat from the coatrack, and headed down the hall toward my desk and purse. Chris was there, slipping his arms into his coat.
“Is your wife going to the tea tonight?” I asked.
He smiled at me. “She wouldn’t miss it. Lisa Leann and Evie have her hosting a table. What about you?”
“Oh, yeah.” I smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it, either. I made fruitcake from an old Southern recipe my grandmother had since I can’t remember when.”
“I love fruitcake. Weird, I know. Most folks don’t. But I do.” He helped me into my coat.
I reached for my purse, which I’d left on my desk. “I know. Have you ever heard of the Claxton Fruitcake Company?”
“No,” he said as he led me out the door then locked it behind us.
“Claxton, Georgia, isn’t far from where I grew up. Remind me to tell you about it one day.” We took the stairs slowly, with Chris in front of me.
“How’s it going with Jack?” he asked.
“Christmas was... strange,” I said. “But Jack was smart enough not to give me jewelry, considering that had always been his atonement gift after each and every affair.”
“No jewelry?” Chris asked as we reached the bottom of the steps. “Smart man.”
I laughed as we made our way through the card shop. “His gift to me was a footed treasure chest for my living room.”
“But no efforts of reconciliation since the trip to Summit Ridge?” he asked, looking down at me. Chris Lowe is evermore a tall man. I’d suspect six-foot-six.
I shook my head no. “There’s a complication,” I said. Chris opened the outside door for me, and we stepped into the frigid evening air. The street lamps and holiday decorations up and down Main Street were beginning to flicker on, bringing a postcard atmosphere to the night. I glanced down the street and focused on the rocky, snow-covered mountain that rose proudly behind the row of businesses along the town’s main thoroughfare. “A big complication.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, pushing his hands into thick gloves.
I thought about it. Seriously thought about it. Then decided against it. “No,” I answered after a moment. I pointed toward 6th Avenue. “I’ll just head on home. There’s still a bit to do before I get to the tea.”
Chris nodded. “Let me know if I can help you in any way, Goldie.”
I told him I would, then began walking home, keeping my arms wrapped around my middle. It was getting colder by the second.
When my apartment was in view, I noticed Jack’s car pulling into the driveway. I paused, and he waved at me from the driver’s seat. What is he doing here?
My question was answered as soon as he stepped out of the car. “Hey!” he hollered. “Thought you could use a ride to the tea.”
I made my way to the driveway, and he met me, looking quite pleased with himself for having thought to be so gallant as to drive me to a social tea. Something I knew Jack thought was quite frivolous.
“You shouldn’t be walking in the cold, Goldie,” he said, taking my shoulders in his hands and planting a kiss on my cheek. “You’ll catch your death out here.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks,” I said. “And I like the walk. It gives my head a chance to clear.”
He wrapped his arm around me and guided me toward the front door. “I hate it that you have to clear your head at all. I’m to blame for part of that
... okay, all of that. If it weren’t for my wrongdoing, you wouldn’t even have to work at all.”
I know he was trying... but he was missing the mark. “I do enjoy myself at work, Jack,” I told him. I opened my purse and removed the house key then jabbed it into the brass lock. “And I don’t intend to leave.” I pushed the door open and walked through.
Jack was right behind me. He pointed to the treasure chest and said, “I really like the looks of the chest in here, Goldie. Like the way you angled it near the fireplace.”
I took off my coat and threw it over a nearby chair. “I have to get ready for the tea now.”
“Is that your grandmother’s fruitcake I smell?” he asked, ignoring me.
“Yes. I need a quick bath and—”
Jack grinned. “Want me to scrub your back?”
I frowned. “I do not. I want you to just sit down and...”—I looked around—“watch TV or something.” I started toward my bedroom.
“What about a cup of tea? Would you like a cup of tea? I can make it for you while you’re getting ready.”
I stopped and glanced over my shoulder at him. He hadn’t been this attentive since I was pregnant. “Sure,” I said. “I won’t be but a minute or two.”
I struggled all the way to the church, with Jack sitting next to me. Should I give him a hint? Should I say, “We need to talk?” But the opportunity never came, what with Jack talking nonstop about his plans for us, about his continued sessions with Pastor Kevin, about Olivia’s baby and the start of a new life with this new addition to our family.
Yeah, well... Lord, just wait till I tell him about the other new addition to our family...
When we arrived at the church, Jack pulled right up to the fellowship hall door and ran around to my side of the car to help me out. I cradled in my arms the fruitcake wrapped in plastic wrap and resting on an old cake plate I’ve had since I was a bride.
I sighed heavily. Jack shut the door behind me and guided me to the door as though I were an invalid. “I’ll pick you up when it’s all over,” he said. “Livvy coming?” he asked, using a nickname for our daughter he hadn’t used in years. “I didn’t even think to ask if she needed a ride.”
The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake Page 17