The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  I busied myself while she took a seat and added a present to the diminishing gift pile.

  Vonnie turned to her. “Are you okay, dear?”

  I turned back in time to see Donna’s face blanch even paler. She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “I would have thought you’d still be celebrating your victory,” Goldie said.

  Donna nodded then shrugged. “You’d think.”

  “Is this about David’s proposal at Apple’s?” I asked, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. “So, the rumors have been flying. Are you engaged or not?”

  “Not.”

  It was Goldie who first found her voice. “Well, good for you. I mean, you hardly know the man.”

  Vonnie said, “Well, they have been spending a lot of time playing cards with my mother.”

  We all looked back at Donna, who continued to look miserable. I said, “How do you feel about David?”

  Donna buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting a proposal,” she said. “One of the reasons I agreed to have lunch with him was to find out if he’d been dating my sister.”

  Vonnie gasped. “Oh dear!”

  “Had he?” I demanded.

  “I don’t think so, though I saw them sitting together at Higher Grounds yesterday morning.”

  I put my hand to my heart. “Then he hasn’t called you?”

  “You could say I haven’t been available,” she said.

  Vonnie said, “I’ve missed you at the house.”

  “I know. Honestly, I don’t know what to do about that. Though I’m glad to know he’s moving into his own place soon.”

  “Back to this proposal,” Lizzie said. “What happened exactly?”

  “One minute, David and I were making light conversation, and the next he was on one knee asking me to marry him, in front of everyone. I was stunned, until I saw the cameras come out. That place was filled with paparazzi.”

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “The paparazzi are here in Summit View?”

  “You bet they are,” Lizzie said. “They probably got wind that he’d made a major jewelry purchase from one of the Hollywood jewelers.”

  Donna sounded surprised. “He had a ring?”

  “Didn’t he show you?”

  She shook her head.

  Lizzie continued, “At least according to this article. It’s pictured on the second page of the story.” She opened her leather purse that doubled as a satchel and pulled out a copy of Entertainment Everyday, a slick gossip magazine. “This came into the library yesterday. I’m surprised none of you saw it.”

  And there it was, in living color. A cover shot of David kneeling before Donna as she stood with her hand on her holster. “Deputy Shoots Down Hollywood Proposal,” the caption read.

  Donna made a choking sound. “Oh no.”

  Before I could blink, Donna had darted through the swinging kitchen door.

  I turned and looked at Evangeline, who asked in a small voice, “I’m as upset as anyone about Donna’s love life, but I have to know, is my bridal shower over?”

  Oh dear. This was supposed to be Evangeline’s day. “Hang on, girlfriend. Let’s all take a break. Everyone, why don’t you help yourself to a slice of my daffodil cake?”

  I rushed after Donna and found her crying at the back door of the kitchen.

  I pulled her into my arms. “Sweetie, it’s going to be okay. It is.”

  The swinging kitchen door banged open, and Evangeline stormed through. “Begging your pardon,” she told me, “but Donna is my future stepdaughter. Thank you for trying to help, but this is my responsibility.”

  She replaced my nearly bare arms with her own raspberry-clad ones as she held the sobbing girl. “There, there,” she said. “Tell me all about it.”

  I popped on an apron then pretended to busy myself in the kitchen.

  The two pulled up kitchen stools, and Donna spoke in hushed tones, revealing the confusion of her heart. As she talked and as Evie listened, it was like rays of love, straight from heaven, parted the storm clouds to shine down on those two. This had to be the first heart-to-heart these two women had ever experienced. And it was happening right here in my little wedding shop. I tried not to break into song.

  As I walked by the pair on the way to the refrigerator, I discreetly handed Donna a tissue. She wiped her eyes and continued what she was saying. “I guess I haven’t returned David’s phone calls because I don’t know what I feel for him. I really don’t.”

  Evangeline patted her arm. “Then there’s someone else? Someone like Wade?”

  I stole a peek and saw Donna with that deer caught in the headlights look. “Why would you ask about Wade?”

  “We all know you two have a past. So, is it true? You still feel something for Wade?”

  Donna bit her lip. “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t say or won’t?”

  Donna shook her head. “It’s complicated. I... I just don’t know.”

  Evangeline took Donna’s hands and held them in her own. “Let me give you a piece of advice. I’ve loved your father since I was twelve. It was hard when he married another woman. Then Doreen left him. I had opportunities with him, time and time again, but I’d always let foolish things like hurt from the past as well as my own stupid pride stand between us. As I look back on all those wasted years, I realize my mistake. Donna, if you’re like me, then you know in your heart whom you love. Don’t do what I did. Face it. Don’t let that love slip through your fingers. Who’s to say you’ll ever get a second chance?”

  I’d slowly been creeping toward the private conversation as I wiped down my stainless steel countertops, so I’d be available if they needed me to put in my two cents. I saw my chance to speak up and took it. “Well, Donna, I hope it’s not Clay who’s in your heart. He’d asked me to play matchmaker for him and get the two of you together, but my makeover attracted more than flies to that honey. Thanks to my help, he’s dating that Britney girl. I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.”

  Donna looked hard at me and then smiled. “Don’t worry, Lisa Leann, I don’t have a history with Clay other than friendship.”

  I smiled to myself, knowing I’d been given a big hint as to the nature of Donna’s heart.

  I walked to the kitchen door, then hesitated. “Well, girls, it’s time to try on the bridesmaids dresses, when you’re ready, that is.”

  When I walked out to the girls gathered in my sitting room, they all looked more than a little worried.

  “It won’t be long now,” I said. “And here’s the good news. These past few minutes have been a time of intense healing between two soon-to-be family members.” I grinned and gestured widely. “Things are looking up for those two.”

  Vonnie finally said the words that were bursting in my heart. “Well, glory hallelujah!”

  45

  Ice Castles

  Clay was party to the ploy, the great plan of proposal between Adam and Michelle.

  Britney had roped him in, or so she thought. What he knew that she didn’t was that there were more surprises in this evening than just the one designed for Michelle.

  The plan was as follows: the four of them were set to double date. They’d have dinner at Apple’s, then head over to Ice Castles, an indoor skating rink. Once there, they’d do a little skating, then take off their skates and go into the café for cappuccinos and cheesecake. After the late-night treat, Clay and Britney would excuse themselves, both saying they had to use the restroom, and head out to the Jeep to retrieve Clay’s camera equipment. They’d sneak back inside and hide in a corner booth—perfect for Britney getting video footage and Clay snapping still shots. Adam would then retrieve their skates, slipping the ring into one of Michelle’s skates. As soon as she slipped her foot in, she would know something wasn’t quite right. A little dip of the fingertips and...

  “Adam has been practicing signing ‘Will you marry me’ for days,” Britney whispered to Clay from the
horseshoe-shaped booth where they waited patiently.

  Clay had only nodded.

  Mere moments later, they watched as Adam gave the signal to start the video. “There’s my cue,” Britney half-squealed, half-whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Clay teased her.

  “So she won’t hear me,” she answered, then blushed. “Oh.” Her tone returned to normal. “Oh yeah.” Then she frowned. “Very funny, Mr. Whitefield.”

  The proposal went as planned, with Michelle leaping up and down, patrons applauding, and Clay and Britney recording the moment. They both giggled as Adam signed, “I asked your father first,” and Michelle burst into tears.

  When there was nothing left to photograph or film, Clay nudged Britney and asked, “Can you get that little lens case out of my bag for me?” He indicated his camera bag lying near her feet.

  “Oh. Oh, sure,” she said, bending over to retrieve the case.

  Clay pretended to fiddle with his camera as he said, “Get the lens in there for me, okay? I need to change this one out.”

  With a sideward glance he watched as she unscrewed the top of the case, then gasped at what was inside. Nestled in deep blue velvet was an antique ring of diamonds and sapphires set high on ornate platinum.

  “Oh my gosh,” Britney breathed out, reaching for the ring with trembling fingers.

  Clay set his camera aside and draped the arm nearest her along the back of the booth’s padded seat. With his other hand, he took the ring from her. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said softly. “And her grandmother’s before her.”

  Britney looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “It was?”

  He nodded. “Forty diamonds, twenty sapphires.” He chuckled a bit. “I could never afford anything like this on my salary, and it may be the most extravagant thing you get from me, but...” He swallowed hard. “If you will... will marry me, Britney... I promise to be the best husband you could ask for.”

  She didn’t answer right away. A few tears slipped from her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. “We’ve hardly known each other—”

  He shushed her. “I know. But how much time does a man need to know he’s in love before he decides to marry the girl of his dreams?”

  “You love me?” she choked out.

  “With all my heart,” he said. “And you?”

  “I love you too.” Then she smiled at him and extended her left ring finger. “And the answer is yes.”

  Evangeline

  46

  Going Nuts

  It was Tuesday before the wedding. With just days to go I was a nervous wreck.

  Vernon had pretty much steered clear of me, saying he’d have his dinners for the remainder of the week at Higher Grounds or Apple’s. Alone. I can’t say that I blame him much. I had become a bit of a bear. Growling about this. Snarling about that. Showing my claws every time I passed a calendar. It was a good thing Vernon loved me as much as he did, otherwise I’d be a lonely bride come the last Saturday of the month.

  Of course, the characters of Summit View didn’t help much. Doreen Roberts and her daughter Velvet had to drive past my house at least once a day—with me living where I do, it’s unavoidable, but still—and I ran into Bob Barnett, my old sweetheart (if you can call him that) at the post office on Monday, where he informed me that while he had not received an invitation, he was assuming he could attend the wedding anyway. I told him that he most assuredly could not. Naturally, I said it politely. Something like, “I don’t think so, Bob.”

  To which he replied, “Well, I don’t see why not. After all, we’ve been friends for nearly sixty years.”

  “Thank you kindly, Mr. Barnett, for reminding me of my age.”

  I immediately went home and called Vonnie. “What am I thinking? Marrying a man at nearly sixty! What in the world am I thinking?”

  Vonnie giggled in that little-girl way she laughs and said, “So what, Evie? If you both died at eighty, that would be twenty years together. Do you know how many couples would be thrilled to make it to twenty years?”

  She had a point. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

  “Do you know what I think?” she asked without waiting for an answer. “I think you’ve got a bad case of cold feet. That’s what I think.”

  I decided to change the subject. “So what’s new with David?” The whole David-Donna issue was too strange for me, but it was a fact of life in Summit View.

  Vonnie was quiet for a moment before she answered. “He’s been... sullen.”

  “Sullen?”

  “Gloomy. Depressed.”

  “Ah. Do you think he really loves her? I mean, really?”

  Again, Vonnie was quiet. Then she answered, “I have to be honest, Evangeline, and say I’m not sure. Maybe he’s in love with her. Maybe he’s in love with the idea of her. Donna is a fine young woman. She’s spunky. She’s got her own career going. She’s brainy and gutsy and—”

  “And possibly in love with someone else.”

  “Do you have any idea who?”

  I smiled. “Don’t you?”

  “I have some thoughts on the subject. What about Vernon? Has he talked with her?”

  I shook my head as though she could see me, then said, “He hasn’t said. Vernon doesn’t talk a lot about things like that.”

  “I see.”

  I decided to change the subject again. “Peggy will be here tomorrow,” I said. “She and Matthew.”

  “Oh, how fun! How fun! I can’t wait to see her again. What a blessing for you, Evie. To have your sister here.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  The following day my anxiety had given way to something akin to a nervous breakdown. As soon as Peggy and Matthew arrived and all hugs and kisses were exchanged and the luggage put away, I said quite frankly, “I really need a prescription or I’m going to fret myself to death.”

  Matthew just smiled in what I’m sure he calls a part of his bedside manner, but I wasn’t kidding. “You want me to write you a prescription for some Prozac, Evangeline?” he asked, though I wasn’t sure if he was serious.

  I plopped in one of the Victorian chairs in my living room. It was nearly noon, and I hadn’t even run a comb through my hair. “Do you think it will help?” I asked.

  Matthew merely walked over and patted me on the hand. “I was only teasing you. What I think you need is to take a few deep breaths and try to enjoy the moment. You’ll only pass through these doors once, you know.” He stood erect, looked at his wife, and said, “I’m going to go lie down.” Then he bobbed his head, said, “Ladies,” and walked out of the living room.

  Peggy watched him go, then grinned at me. “I see I got here just in time. You look absolutely awful.” She took a seat in a nearby chair, crossed her legs, and leaned toward me.

  “You don’t,” I said. “You look wonderful.”

  She ran her fingers through her silver hair, cut short enough to be a man’s, and said, “I’m sure I look a fright. What with traveling since the light of day.”

  “No. You look marvelous. You really do. I like your hair like that, by the way.”

  “My friends say it’s chic.”

  I stared at her for a few minutes and drank her in. Peggy and I don’t look a thing alike. Never have. She was always more stylish and... almost handsome. She should have been a model. Tall, thin, large blue eyes, and a natural rose to her complexion that girls of sixteen would give anything for. Of course, being married to a doctor didn’t hurt. She’d spend days lounging around the pool or hitting a fuzzy yellow ball at their country club’s tennis courts. She had a maid and a cook. She went once a week for manicures and pedicures and to get her hair trimmed. There wasn’t a month that went by that she wasn’t at a day spa somewhere.

  I finally nodded at her. “It is.”

  The next thing I knew she was leaping out of her chair, grabbing me by the hands, and yanking me out of my chair. With a quick glance at her watch she said, “Oh, gosh! Look at the time.
Come on, sister dear. Have I got plans for us!”

  Peggy’s plans had obviously been made long before she arrived. After she dragged me upstairs and practically dressed me herself, she pushed me outside to where her rental car—a BMW, naturally—was waiting. “Hop in,” she said, rounding the car toward the driver’s side. “This thing has got heated seats so we’ll have warm fannies in no time.” She laughed lightly as I slid into the car. She pulled out of my driveway and then zoomed through the streets, pointing out first one thing she’d forgotten about and then another. “My goodness. Is Higher Grounds still in business?” she asked.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked her.

  “Oh, you’ll see.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Peggy and I arrived in Breckenridge, where she’d previously scheduled appointments at a day spa. We spent the next several hours being pampered beyond my wildest imaginings.

  The spa itself was really quite something. Hardwood floors polished to a shine, muted colored walls, lots of plants, therapeutic music, and scented candles filled the rooms. We were ushered from the entrance down a wide hallway and then to the back, where large tubs filled with hot water and sea minerals awaited us. After a half-hour soak, we were massaged with fragrant scrubs, followed by oils. Then we had facials and hot stone therapy until I do believe my brain became bubble gum. Following all that, we had pedicures, then manicures (both with paraffin treatments). As though that were not enough, Peggy had made an appointment for me with a man named Jacques, who ran his fingers through my hair, pulling at it from root to tip, and then studied my face and declared, “You really deserve something more modish, like your sister. Look at those cheeks! That bone structure! I’m going to give you the look of Dame Judi Dench!”

  Hours later—having been shampooed and my hair razor cut and highlighted—I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. Peggy stood behind me, expressing over and over, “It’s you, it’s you, it’s so absolutely you!”

  “This is the easiest style in the world,” Jacques said.

  I sincerely hoped so.

  A makeup expert came in and tried to sell me on all sorts of cosmetics, but I knew that Lisa Leann would have my hide if I dared buy any other products than the ones I’d already purchased from her.