The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  “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.”

  “Tony is bringing her,” I said, ready to get inside and get the whole evening over with.

  Jack kissed me on the cheek again as he opened the door for me. “You have a good time, and I’ll see you shortly. Save me a piece of that cake.” He patted me on my backside and chuckled.

  I turned sharply. “Jack, we have to talk,” I blurted out.

  He leaned in close with a grin. “Sorry about the patting thing. I forgot where I was.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not it. Entirely. We have to talk about something else.”

  Jack sobered. “Don’t tell me you want a divorce. Not here. Not now. We’re making headway, Goldie. We’re going to make it. I know we are.”

  “It’s not that, Jack. We’ll... we’ll talk later tonight, okay?”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute. “We’re letting the cold air in and the hot air out,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  Lizzie met me at my table, which was so far in the back of the room it was practically in another state. “Lisa Leann,” Lizzie whispered in my ear with a giggle. “She doesn’t like your paper products.”

  “Well, pooh on her,” I said.

  Lizzie nodded toward my set table. “I went ahead and set everything up for you.”

  “Thanks,” I responded, casting my gaze across the room. It was lovely. Truly lovely. Every table was highly decorated in the personal theme of the hostess. The overhead lights and the lit candles atop each table cast shimmering lights across the crystal and china and the glass Christmas ornaments. “I see she’s got herself front and center.”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Lizzie said. She reached for the fruitcake. “I’ll take this to the serving table. You mingle.” She started away from me, then turned back. “You and Jack talk yet?”

  I shook my head no. “Not yet. I told him I want to talk to him tonight.” I took in a deep breath, then let it out.

  “Good girl,” Lizzie said, then walked away, leaving me to mingle with the other women who were hostessing tables.

  I went to Evie’s table first, a lovely Victorian setting, her mother’s china and silver resting beautifully on damask linen. I touched it with my fingertips. “This is lovely, Evie,” I said. “Was this one of your mother’s? I’ve never seen it before.”

  Evie smiled at me as she adjusted one of the candles of her centerpiece. “Believe it or not, it’s a piece of a bedsheet. I thought it was so pretty, I bought it, took it down to the Sew and Stitch, and had Dora make it into a tablecloth.”

  “You are very wise,” I said with a wink. “Are you counting down the days till the wedding?”

  Evie sighed. “I’m trying not to think about how far behind I am on everything.” She inched closer to me. “And with the Queen Wedding Bee over there trying to run everything... well... I’m just letting her. She’s having so much fun, and quite frankly it keeps her out of everything else that’s going on around here, so...”

  “What do you mean? What else is going on around here?”

  Lizzie joined us just then. “Are you telling her?” Lizzie asked.

  “Telling me what?” I looked from one to the other.

  Evie’s shoulders seemed to drop a bit. She stopped in her table primping and crossed her arms. The three of us formed an awkward circle. “Okay. You’ll have to promise not to say anything, though.”

  I raised my chest and held up my hand as though I were taking a pledge. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

  “Doreen Roberts is back in town,” Evie whispered.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Doreen Roberts? Doreen Roberts Vesey?”

  Evie scowled at me. “Yes, Doreen Roberts Vesey. Do you have to remind me?”

  “Sorry.”

  Lizzie touched my arm with her hand, bringing my attention to her. “She’s Dee Dee McGurk. That name sound familiar?”

  I had to think for a minute. “The barmaid? The one that...” My hand flew over my mouth. “Oh, dear Lord. That is her. I thought she looked familiar.” I widened my eyes at them. “Does Donna—”

  “Know?” Evie asked. “Not yet. Though Vernon and Doreen have gone round and round about it. Personally, I think Vernon ought to tell Donna. Now, before we get any closer to our wedding. But, like a typical man, he’s putting it off.”

  “Men,” I said. “And women too, I suppose. I have my own secret I’m holding on to.”

  Evie turned fully to me. “Well, you know my secret. What’s yours?”

  I looked from Evie to Lizzie and back to Evie again. “Charlene Hopefield is pregnant.”

  Evie rolled her eyes. “I should have known it could come to this. Jack’s I assume.”

  “She says it is.”

  Evie pointed a finger at me. “I’d have a paternity test done. That woman has been around more tracks than a Derby horse.”

  Lizzie and I burst out in laughter. Evie just has a way of putting things. “I hadn’t thought about a paternity test. I just assumed it really is his.”

  “Never assume,” Evie said. “You know what they say about assuming.”

  Lizzie laughed again. “Don’t say it, Evie. Not in God’s house.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to say it,” she said, then looked around. “Speaking of assumptions, here comes Lisa Leann. Act normal. Or natural. Whichever you are most comfortable with.” And we burst out laughing again.

  “Girls, girls! What is so funny over here? We can hear the laughter clear across the room,” Lisa Leann said. She touched the sleeve of my Christmas-green suit and said, “Don’t you look lovely, Miss Goldie. Did I see the coach with you at the door? Should I go ahead and book the chapel for you?”

  “Not just yet, Lisa Leann,” I said.

  “Darlin’, don’t waste time. It won’t wait for any of us, you know. I had really hoped the time at the cabin would—”

  “The time at the cabin was good. I mean, except for the whole avalanche thing and nearly getting ourselves killed. And trust me, we’re working on it. Not the killing... the getting back together.”

  Lisa Leann turned her head toward the front door as it opened. “Oh my! They did come, after all!” she exclaimed.

  Evie, Lizzie, and I gawked. Simply gawked. “Dee Dee McGurk?” I finally squeaked out.

  Lisa Leann practically bounced like a jumping bean. “Yes, indeed. This event is supposed to be about reaching out to the lost, my sisters. And believe me, no one is more lost than that poor woman and her adorable daughter.” She turned back to the group of us. “Besides, I understand they have lovely singing voices, and I’ve asked that they bless us with a tune. By the way, have you all noticed how much that young woman looks like our Donna?”

  I stole a glance over at Evie, who had t
urned so pale I thought we were going to have to call for an ambulance. Lizzie reached for her. “Do you need a drink of water, Evangeline?” she asked.

  Evie took a deep breath. “No, thank you. I can handle this.”

  “What is there to handle?” Lisa Leann asked. “You girls are acting very strange. Even for you.”

  It was about that time that Vonnie joined the group, coming up from behind us. “What’s going on around here?” she asked. “Can’t a girl work in the kitchen without you gals causing such an uproar?”

  Lisa Leann turned to Vonnie. “This tea is supposed to be an outreach, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is,” Vonnie assured her. “Who says it isn’t?”

  I glanced again to the front of the fellowship hall, where Doreen and her daughter were standing. Is that the girl Lizzie and I met on the sidewalk? I wondered. Which is, of course, when it all hit me. Velvet James is the daughter of Dee Dee McGurk. Dee Dee McGurk is... or was... Doreen Roberts. “Well, no wonder she looks like Donna,” I said out loud without meaning to.

  “Who looks like Donna?” Vonnie asked, then parted the cluster of us a bit. “Good heavens, who is that? Is that... oh my goodness. Is that... Doreen Roberts?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Evie said. Then she turned to Vonnie. “Donna’s not here, is she?”

  “Talk to me, people,” Lisa Leann said.

  “No,” Vonnie answered Evie. “She said she wasn’t coming.”

  “Which brings me to my next point,” Lisa Leann continued, totally oblivious to what was going on—or coming down—around her.

  “Never mind, Lisa Leann,” I said.

  Vonnie wrapped her arms around Evie from behind. “Oh, dear girl. How long has she been here?”

  “Long enough.”

  “Somebody better talk to me. After all, I’m part of the planning committee here,” Lisa Leann sang. “Who is Doreen Roberts?”

  “Dee Dee McGurk,” I said. “Dee Dee McGurk is Doreen Roberts.”

  “And Doreen Roberts is Donna Vesey’s mother,” Lizzie finished.

  “Donna’s mother?” Lisa Leann stammered, then closed her tiny, pink-lined lips.

  There was really nothing left to say, though I was sure someone would. After all, Doreen Roberts and Velvet James—both dressed in flashy red and now sporting “Hello, My Name Is—” stickers over their right breasts—were heading straight for us.

  31

  Here Comes Trouble

  Clay stood in the back of the room, photographing the lineup of good food displayed on the serving tables. The sound of laughter skipped across the room, and he turned. The ladies of the Potluck Club sure are having a good time, he thought as he watched a small cluster of them standing shoulder to shoulder and giggling like schoolgirls.

  For a moment he wondered what secrets they collectively held, then he turned back to the spread his camera lens was focused on.

  The table before him held every delectable food a man could possibly think of, and his mouth watered from wanting to dig into each and every dish. Not that he would, but he surely wanted to.

  He heard laughter again, then felt Britney’s tiny hand as it touched the small of his back. “They sure have a good time,” she said. “Wonder what it’s like to have such history with a bunch of friends.”

  Clay smiled down at her. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “You were?”

  “Yep. Sure was.”

  Britney looked up and furrowed her brow ever so slightly, then relaxed. “Why do they call themselves the Potluck Club?”

  Clay turned a bit. “It started years ago. Evangeline Benson and her childhood friend Ruth Ann McDonald got together once a month, had some coffee cake and coffee and a little prayer too, I’m told, and it sort of went from there.”

  “Ruth Ann McDonald? Why don’t I know her?”

  “She died a long time ago. Died young. Cancer, I think it was.”

  “That’s so sad,” Britney said, looking back over at the women. Clay followed her gaze and noted that Evie, Lizzie, and Goldie were now joined by Lisa Leann, who seemed even more animated than usual.

  “When did the others join?”

  Clay shrugged. “One by one, they just joined.” He chuckled. “Then, just a few months ago, Lisa Leann practically swooped in on the group. Invited herself without so much as a nod from Evangeline Benson.” Clay chuckled again, and Britney laughed with him. “Best get back to taking the pictures,” he said. “Can a man gain weight just by standing so close, do you think?”

  Britney pointed to the collection of desserts. “Have you ever in your life seen so many homemade goodies?” she asked by way of answering his question. “I mean, couldn’t you just die?”

  “I would if I ate all this. See that? That’s a Lisa Leann concoction if I ever saw one. And that,” he said, pointing to Goldie’s fruitcake and putting on a Southern accent. “Miz Goldie Dippel from Alma, Georgia, baked that. You should not leave this room today until you’ve tried some of it. Better’n fried chicken smothered in thick gravy.”

  Britney laughed again and slapped him on the arm. “You are so funny, Clay Whitefield.”

  Clay winked. “Sometimes I think the ladies of the Potluck should start a catering service.”

  “It would certainly go well with Lisa Leann’s wedding boutique,” she said.

  “That it would.” Clay hunkered down a bit. He was leaning just so as to get a long shot of the dessert table when he heard another commotion coming from the ladies of the club. He stood upright and turned to see two women dressed in red standing just inside the outside doors. “Oh no,” he said under his breath.

  “What is it, Clay? What’s wrong?” Britney asked, peering around him.

  “Tell you what, honey,” he answered. “Do me a favor and go sit at Goldie’s table, will you? Just trust me on this one.”

  “Sure, but... why?”

  “Don’t look now,” he answered, “but here comes trouble.”

  Vonnie

  32

  Roasted Revelation

  I blinked. Sure enough, Dee Dee McGurk and Velvet James were heading directly for our little cluster of potluck ladies. Velvet’s resemblance to Donna was uncanny enough to make me question if Vernon could be her father as well. But it was Doreen herself who caused me to gasp. The morning she ran away with our former choir director almost three decades ago, she’d stood at the front of the church as her sweet face radiated joy. It was only later we realized her glow came from the thrill of planned deceit and betrayal against her husband and child. But in no way did her later actions tarnish the purity of her song. The words of “Amazing Grace” had flowed from her like the sweet swells of the violin.

  Could the meaning of those words have been lost to her? Could it be that the deep lines that mapped her face traced her fall from grace? It was apparent that these past thirty years had been unkind. No wonder she’d been able to waltz into town without being recognized. Her once-glowing eyes had grown hard, and her once-soft skin had leathered with a permanent scowl of bitterness.

  It was enough to break my heart.

  We potluckers looked from one to the other. It was Lisa Leann, God bless her, who first recovered from the shock of facing our difficult past, probably because she didn’t share it with us.

  Lisa Leann gave the newcomers a big Texas welcome as Clay snapped pictures. I’d seen him earlier, hovering about the card-shop girl, Britney, who was now seated at Goldie’s table.

  He exchanged a look with me as if to say he understood the drama of the situation and felt he had to record it. I hoped to no end Clay wouldn’t run this picture or any mention of these particular guests as front page news.

  “Ladies, I’m so glad you could make it,” Lisa Leann said. “And Dee Dee, I hear tell that you know my friends? Are introductions in order?”

  Clay snapped one more picture before stepping back to photograph the decorations and people at the table behind us. I knew he only turned his back on us so
he could stay within earshot.

  So help me if Dee Dee didn’t look us up and down and say, as cool as you like, “Yes, I know these girls.”

  Her daughter looked confused. “Some of your regulars?”

  “No, honey, they’re part of a past I’ve tried to forget.”

  Those words seemed to break the spell that had made Evie’s mouth gap open. As if magically given a voice, Evie said, “If a person is trying to forget the dead, why would they take a shovel to the cemetery?”

  Dee Dee crossed her arms over her simple red knit pantsuit that looked as if it had seen too many wash days, pilled and faded as it was. “Why, honey, some corpses have a few valuables left to pick through. I’ve just come to claim what’s mine.”

  Evie made a kind of shocked squeak while Dee Dee turned to Lisa Leann. “I see you’ve put place cards at all the tables. Can you tell me where Velvet and me are to sit?”

  Lisa Leann checked her list. “You’ve drawn Vonnie’s table, near the back.”

  “My mother’s joining us,” I explained, like that put a clear spin on the why of our faraway location.

  Just then, my handsome son David, who had just wheeled Mother through the foyer, caught my eye from the back of the room. Mother was holding my pineapple upside-down cake, one of my specialties. Velvet gave David a big grin and waved. Surely

  David realized Velvet was not Donna. But from the look on his face, I didn’t think so.

  I motioned to my family to stay where they were. “There’s Mother now,” I said to Dee Dee and Velvet, leading them to my table where they sat. “Welcome,” I said, more grimly than I’d intended. “I’ll be right back.”

  Just as I was heading back to Mother and David, Lisa Leann pulled me aside. “Oh, Vonnie. I’m so sorry. I had no idea Dee Dee was Donna’s mother. I’ve heard all about that mess. Leave it to me to pull something like this. Do you think the girls will ever forgive me?”

  I looked at Lisa Leann hard, surprised to see she had tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to fit into our group, and all I do is stir things up,” she said.