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.
She clenched her jaw. “Being a newcomer to our long-standing Grace Church Christmas tea, I guess you wouldn’t know, would you?”
With that, Evie tossed her salt-and-pepper hair as she flounced to grab her worn-out wool coat, in beige, no less, a horrid color for her complexion. The hem of her new fuchsia print skirt peeked out from beneath the buttoned-down wool. As for the skirt, I’d say her clothing tastes were changing for the better, an accomplishment I took personal credit for, as I had made it my goal to spruce up the group.
I followed close on Evie’s black flats. “Well, partner, since you’re stuck with me, you’d better tell me your plans. It’s the only way I’ll reveal mine.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to look at me. “Well, then, I’ll call you tonight and we’ll get started. Agreed?”
“Agreed? What could I say to such rudeness? Of course I agreed,” I later told Mandy as she watched me pick up after the party.
“I wish you’d let me help you clean up,” she said.
“Nothing doing, young lady. If the doctor won’t let you fly home to Houston to be with your husband, I surely won’t let you clean up my kitchen. I’ll not have you flopping around on the floor again in need of another run to the ER. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do,” Mandy said as she sagged her strawberry curls onto the headrest of the rocking chair. She smoothed her lime green maternity sweater over her protruding belly. “It’s just this wait is so boring, I can hardly stand it.”
Poor baby. “It’ll be over soon,” I said. “Now might be a good time to catch a nap.”
Mandy complied, and I turned up the stereo, which was playing Bing Crosby’s rendition of “White Christmas,” but not so loud as to disturb her. Then I busied myself in the kitchen, making a special plate of leftovers for my husband, Henry, who would be back from an afternoon of skiing over at Breckinridge soon, as the ski runs closed at three. Too bad he missed the potluck. If I’d known some of the guys were going to be there I’d have invited him as well. But I’m sure Henry had a lovely time skiing. Now that we were Coloradoans braving our first winter in the mountains, we would be doing a lot of dashing down those slopes in the coming weeks. I could hardly wait to pull out my white, fur-trimmed snowsuit. I’d be styling down the advanced trails (or “the blacks,” as the locals called them) in no time at all.
Later that evening, Evie’s phone call caught me as I was carrying an unopened box to the kitchen table, a box I’d garnered from the upper shelves of my garage. Nestled inside was part of my teapot collection. I’d given away so many of my treasures in our move from our rambling house in the Woodlands, an exclusive suburb near Houston, that I’d only managed to keep my very favorite tea sets. They would come in handy now, I dared say.
I pulled the tape from the top of the box and peeked inside, just before I picked up the phone call on its third ring.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
The crabby voice on the other end of the line no doubt belonged to Evie. “Lisa Leann, let’s just get this over with.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, and yes, I’m looking forward to working with you.”
There was silence on the phone. “Okay,” she said at last. “Let me tell you how it’s going to be. Several pre-selected women of the church will be responsible for decorating their own tables.”
“That will never do,” I injected. “I’ve got the whole decoration theme mapped out. I’ve already made one run to Wal-Mart and picked up supplies.”
“Return them. I’ve already made the calls, and the committee is already at work. So, there’s really nothing for you to do.”
“Hold on there a minute, Evie. What about food, a program, greeters? That sort of thing?”
“We always serve desserts and finger foods like cucumber sandwiches and the like. The same committee that has always taken care of the food has already volunteered.”
“Evangeline Benson, why do I get the feeling that you are dismissing me from my co-leadership obligation to the pastor?”
“Well, sorry if it seems that way,” Evie said, “but this event is tradition. There’s really not much left for you to do, unless you want to decorate a table?”
“I certainly do, and what else?”
“I don’t have a program together yet, so maybe you could ask the choir director to say a few words and conduct our annual singalong. See that he does at least one Christmas solo.”
“I’ll handle that. Fine,” I said.
“And about the auction?”
“The auction?”
“Yes, we always raise money for Toys for Tots, but again, you wouldn’t know about that.”
I ignored the dig. “Who’s the auctioneer?”
I heard Evie sigh. “That’s the main glitch. That job always belonged to Jan. It will take a special person to fill her shoes.”
“I should say so. But, no worries. I served as auctioneer at several charities for my service sorority. So I’m your girl.”
I could have sworn Evie said, “I was afraid of that.”
“Pardon?”
She cleared her throat. “I said ‘That will take care of that.’”
“Then it’s set?”
“Yes. Let the tradition continue.”
I hung up the phone, more than a bit miffed. What was wrong with that woman? Did she hate everyone or just me? You’d think after she finally convinced the sheriff to buy her an engagement ring her overall attitude would’ve improved. But then, some people are never satisfied. Not only did she want to run Sheriff Vesey’s life, she wanted to run mine as well.
I shook my head as if to clear out the thorny vibes Evie had just presented me like a bouquet of thistles.
So, it will be “tradition,” will it? Fine, I can play tradition, but some of the notes will be played from my tradition. If she thinks she can blow me off, well, she’s got another think coming.
Besides, as usual, I already had a plan.
3
I’ll Take the Works
Clay looked down at the pink sheet of paper in his hand, recently torn from one of Lisa Leann’s notebooks and with her handwriting scrawled across it. It was his list of things to do—and do today—in order to begin the process of winning Donna’s heart.
He frowned as he climbed into his Jeep and headed toward Silverthorne, where Lisa Leann insisted he go. Immediately.
He used his cell phone to call the first business on the list.
“Silverthorne Salon and Spa,” the voice on the other end said.
“Ah. Yeah. Do you, uh... do you take men there?”
There was a pause. Man, he hated this.
“Take men?” the voice countered.
“You know... hair... uh, highlighting? Mani... manicures? Facials?” He nearly choked on the last word. “Waxing?”
There was a giggle from the other end. “Of course we take men,” the voice said.
She sounded young to Clay. And pretty. Young and pretty.
He sighed.
“Any chance you have an opening? For, say, in an hour or so?”
There was another pause, followed by, “Yes, sir. I think we can fit you in. You want a haircut or just highlights?”
Clay looked down to the pink paper again, reading the bottom line. Underscored. Three times.
“The works,” Clay read from it. “I’ll take the works.”
Vonnie
4
Blended Family
You could have knocked me over with a feather when my dear husband Fred showed up at Lisa Leann’s front door with David Harris, my birth son.
Just a few days ago, I wasn’t even sure our marriage could withstand Fred’s discovery that I’d been married before—to David’s father, Joe.
As far as I knew, Fred had no intention of meeting my son, ever. So, for Fred to surprise me with a visit from David was a miracle if I ever saw one. The only explanation was Fred must have been in conference with our pastor, Kevin Moore, who probably encouraged this encounter. As we’d just had dessert with the pastor, it made sense that Fred could have spoken privately with him about our situation. Regardless, I’d get to the bottom of it. I was just glad Fred’s healing had finally begun.
You see, Fred and I, we’d been sweet on each other when we were schoolkids. But we’d kind of drifted apart after our high school graduation. He’d never have guessed I met someone else while I was away in nursing school. He says he was faithfully waiting for me. I say he should have called or written to let me know.
Not only did I meet Joseph Ray Jewell, I’d married him and had his baby. (Yes, in that order.)
My mother, who’d always had a firm grip of control over my life, was devastated, probably because she planned on me marrying Fred. So when she discovered I’d secretly married Joe and that he’d been drafted to Vietnam, she sent me packing, to live in LA with Joe’s family. This move, though deemed as “punishment,” had in fact been good for me. I cherished my time with Joe’s family. Maria, Joe’s mother, and I grew especially close. It was a terrible blow to both of us when the army chaplain showed up at our front door to tell us Joe had been killed in action.
I was almost nine months pregnant at the time and collapsed in shock. That’s when the baby came. I was so heavily sedated, I didn’t even realize little David had been born, much less been born alive.
That’s how my mother got the upper hand. When she showed up at the LA hospital, she sent Maria packing. When she had me all to herself, she told me my baby was dead. She even had me sign some papers to release the baby’s body for burial, or so I’d thought. I was too groggy to realize I was actually signing David’s adoption papers.
I shivered and waved good-bye to Lisa Leann and my Potluck Club sisters then looped each of my arms through the crooks of David’s and Fred’s as we made our way down Lisa Leann’s condo steps to where my Taurus was parked.
I stole a peek at each man who walked beside me as tears of relief and gratitude leaked from the corners of my eyes. How blessed could one woman be?
Yet, despite the warmth of the moment, my soul literally ached with bitterness. For the way I saw it, my needless heartache came from needless betrayal. Betrayal I wasn’t sure I could ever forgive.
How could I? I hugged the arms of my men closer and tried to block out the pain of my past.
I wasn’t successful.
Thoughts of my mother continued to torment me. Because of her actions, my entire life had been a lie, and why?
I knew the answer. My mother could not love anyone whose skin was darker than her own, even if that skin belonged to her own son-in-law and grandchild.
To think of the misery her conniving caused. Me without my baby, and my baby in the arms of that Hollywood woman, the actress known as Harmony Harris. It was all too much.
But even the thoughts of my mother could not completely rob me of enjoying the miracle of this moment with both my husband and son. My men saw me to my car, and David slipped beside me into the passenger’s seat, while Fred headed for his pickup truck. David carried what was left of my pumpkin dessert and casserole dishes, reloaded with enough food for tonight’s dinner.
Though David and I exchanged grins as we buckled up, I felt nervous. This was the first time David would see how simply I lived. My tiny house was filled with my collection of baby dolls and dust bunnies, a far cry from his and Harmony’s Beverly Hills mansion I’d recently visited with Donna.
After living in such opulence, would David be ashamed of me?
Before I could think through this idea, I turned onto Main Street. What’s this? I thought as I drove past the Higher Grounds Café. It looked like Donna walking down the sidewalk. I looked hard. Yep, that was Donna, looking almost giddy in a red outfit. But why hadn’t she worn that to the baby shower, and what was it about her that looked different?
David said, “There’s Donna. Honk. We’re meeting for breakfast in the a.m.”
The beep from my car caused Donna to turn and—upon seeing my son—exchange a wave with David. Her surprised but delighted expression was almost sweet. I scrunched my forehead into a map of wrinkles. “You two have a date? What about church?”
He smiled. “Church? I didn’t know I was invited.”
“Of course you are. Donna usually sits with Fred and me.”
“Really? Well, I always wanted to see what church was like.”
I looked at David out of the corner of my eye. His eyes told me his secret. He was smitten with Donna. So help me if I didn’t sigh out loud. It’s not that I was against the idea of David and Donna as a couple, but... with this lawsuit talk and all, she had too much going on to get involved with any man right now.
My reflection concerning Donna and her problems was short lived, because moments later, we’d turned into the driveway of our little Victorian, and Fred pulled up behind us in his pickup. I could already hear Chucky, our king kong bichon, as he yapped and danced on the other side of the front door.
The two of us scurried up the steps while Fred unlocked the door. Suddenly I saw how dim and shabby my home must appear. I’d always considered it so warm and comfortable until David stepped over the threshold. I looked down at Chucky, the white fuzz ball leaping at our feet.
Why hadn’t I noticed he needed a bath before now?
David laughed and reached down to scratch my furry friend behind his ear. “Vonnie, you didn’t tell me I had a sibling,” he teased.
Despite my discomfort, I tried to smile. “That’s Chucky. He was a stray who found us. Donna helped us rescue him.”
David’s eyebrows rose at the mention of her name, and he grinned. “Did she? Well, now.”
Yes, there was no mistaking it, David was smitten. The look on his face was so obvious that even Fred noticed. “Uh, David,” he said. “You’re not interested in dating Donna, are you?”
David stopped petting the dog and stood up. He gave us one of his big grins and said,“Maybe. Donna and I, well, we’re friends. Good friends, I hope.”
Fred and I exchanged glances. “That’s great,” I said, not knowing if I meant it.
Fred handed David his suitcase.
“Thanks,” David said, brushing off a few flakes of snow that had sprinkled the suitcase as if it were a powdered donut. “I forgot I’d tossed it in the back of your pickup at the airport.”
I scurried to flip on the light switches and lamps, hoping the light would chase away the shadows as well as my home’s shabby appearance. The results only stirred the dust covering my collection of baby dolls that lined the room. Feeling embarrassed at the sparkles of white that floated in the air, I turned to David. “Let me show you to your room,” I said.
He followed obediently, Chucky close at his heels.
When I switched on the light to David’s room, I felt a warm burn kiss my cheeks.
Oh, if only I’d known he was coming I’d have cleaned up this mess. Not only were boxes stacked on the bed, but dusty babies peered at us from every angle, the dresser, the rocking chair, the high shelf that ran around the top of the ceiling, not to mention the bed.
“Wow, it’s like a doll museum in here,” he said from beside me.
“Ah... yes. I would have prepared this room for you if I’d known you were coming. I’ve been using it to store some of my collection.”
David turned to me and grinned. “So, you collect dolls. That’s good to know. How’d you get started?”
I stared at him. “Overwhelming loss.”
David stared back. “You mean, you collected these babies to replace the baby you’d lost?”
I nodded and wiped a tear from my eyes. “Silly, I know. But I could never get you out of my mind. So one doll led to another, and another, and...”
David gave a low whistl
e. “I see.” He stopped and stared at me before wrapping me in his arms. “I’m here now. I’m not a baby anymore. But I’m here.”
My shoulders began to quiver as he held me and I gave in to my tears. For the first time in a very long time, I couldn’t feel my pain. All I could feel was love, love for my child and his love for me.
The moment was broken by the ring of the phone. I could hear Fred, who was in the living room, as he picked it up. “Yes, she’s here,” he said. “It’s Evie,” he called out to me. “She needs to talk to you about the Christmas tea.”
I stepped back and wiped my eyes and reached for a tissue from the box on the dresser. “Tell her I’ll call her back in a minute,” I said.
I began to busy myself by picking up the room, feeling a bit self-conscious because I’d given in to such emotion. David seemed uneasy too. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“Stack those boxes in the closet, and I’ll get some fresh sheets.”
Within minutes we had the room ready. I could hear Fred already settled down in his recliner with his favorite show, Truck Amuck, a reality show about truck makeovers. I said to David, “Why don’t you go sit with Fred for a while? I’ve got a phone call to make.”
“Sure thing. Fred and I need a little bonding time. He was pretty quiet on the way here from the airport.”
Hmmm. That didn’t sound good. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll return Evie’s phone call. We’ve got a couple of hours before supper. Hope you don’t mind leftovers.”
“Sounds good to me.”
A few minutes later, I slipped the potluck leftovers into the refrigerator, thankful I had a microwave to heat up dinner later tonight. I paused a moment to smile at a burst of laughter coming from the other room. “My boys” laughing at the antics of the truck mechanics on TV.
I picked up the phone and dialed. “Evie, what’s up?”
I could hear Evie turn down her Fox news program. How she could stand to run that all day long, I never knew. “Lisa Leann is what’s up.”
The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake Page 2