The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  I felt my jaw set. “So, the three of you were just going to keep this a secret? Or were you all in on the great revelation tonight?”

  Clay reached for my hand. “I swear, Donna, I didn’t know about that. I don’t think anyone did.”

  “Well, I for one can’t wait to see it in the paper.”

  “I wouldn’t!”

  “Your publisher’s wife was there. I saw her sitting near the back. I’d wager this will make the paper whether you write it up or not. Don’t you think?”

  Clay blanched. “Um, I don’t know. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ve certainly done a lot, Clay. You leaked the story about David Harris to the national media, and now you’re going to paint me as the bitter woman I’m fast becoming.”

  “Bitter? No, Donna, that’s not how I see you.”

  I stared at his hand over mine, then looked him in the eye. “Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend is going to see us together?”

  “I... uh...” He stood up. “I gotta go. I’m going to call my publisher to see what I can do about the story I have to file tonight.”

  “You do that, Clay.”

  He leaned over and hugged me. “Donna, you know I care about you. I’ll see what I can do to make this all go away. Who knows? Maybe I can turn this around to paint you in a positive light.”

  He turned to leave, but I called out to him. “Clay, I appreciate you trying, anyway. With the depositions starting, tonight’s little show is the last thing I need. As it stands now, the judge and jury are going to see me as a high profile fiancée of a Hollywood prince and a spoiled woman who hates her mother. You just can’t get better publicity than that, at least not when you’re being sued in the death of a baby.”

  Clay seemed to shrink into his jacket. “So, it’s official, you and Harris are engaged?”

  I stared at him before I answered, “I’m just quoting Hollywood Nightly, so it must be true, right?”

  Sally arrived with my coffee just as Clay nodded his good-bye then stepped into the evening.

  Sally scurried back behind the counter, and I sat there watching the steam rise from my cup. I was alone, truly alone. My best pal Clay had a girlfriend, and my entire family had in one way or another betrayed me. Sure, there were a couple of other guys I could count as wannabe boyfriends, but who was I fooling? No one was going to want me, not now anyway. If they didn’t realize it already, they soon would. I was nothing but a reject, rejected by my own mother, by Clay, and soon, the world.

  I closed my eyes. God, even if I could believe in you, I could never trust you. Life’s been nothing but one big joke, and the joke’s on me. I hope you’re amused.

  I looked up as Larry stepped out of the kitchen and made a beeline for me. He looked like a man who was gloating over a terrible secret. Word must travel fast. The tea hadn’t even broken up yet, and here came my first so-called friend to rub in my humiliation. I took a long sip of my coffee and averted my eyes.

  “Why, what a pleasure to have you drop in to see me,” Larry said.

  I groused over my hot coffee. “Yeah. You’re the big attraction, all right.”

  He rumbled a purr like a sexy kitten and winked as he handed me a plate. “I love a girl in uniform, and I want you to be the first to try my new recipe for fudge bars, on the house.”

  I stood up. “Larry, what’s wrong with you?”

  He set the platter on the table. “Well, I’m on break. I thought we’d have a little moment to ourselves, just you and me.”

  “Yeah, sure. You, me, and a nasty little migraine.” I averted my eyes and hunkered back over my coffee in an effort to end this weird conversation.

  Larry looked confused. “Why, Donna, you’ve been waving and winking at me all week, ever since our national TV debut.”

  I felt my face burn as I slapped my payment down on the table and stood up. “I have not been flirting with you, and after your TV stunt, well, you’re lucky to be alive.” I let my hand rest on my holster. “Understand?”

  Larry stepped back and watched as I slammed through the front door and stalked back to my truck, shivering at the thought of Larry and me as a couple. “Ewww!”

  Then it hit me. Velvet. He’d mistaken my sister for me. That’s probably what happened that night when I thought he’d seen me in my pj’s.

  It all made sense. I hesitated before I swung open my door. This was a disaster.

  As I slid into the seat, my cell rang. I picked it up without looking at my caller ID.

  “Donna, thank God I’ve reached you.”

  I could hear Lisa Leann auctioning off a basket of books and scented soaps and candles in the background. “Going, going, gone!” she whooped.

  “Evangeline? Is that you? You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I do. The auction has just started, and I’m making my way to the parking lot. Can you meet me back over here? I want to talk to you.”

  I pulled my Bronco onto the street. “This ought to be good,” I said, heading back to the church.

  Evie was standing at the door of the activities center when I arrived; she hurried to my truck and slipped in. She reached out to hug me. “Oh Donna!” she cried. “Oh, I’m so horribly embarrassed about this, for you, for all of us.”

  I accepted her quick hug but didn’t return it. I pulled back to watch her dab her eyes with a soggy tissue.

  Was she hoping I’d forgive her for this? I folded my arms. “I’ve got a few questions. For starters, you knew? You knew that Dee Dee was my mother and you didn’t tell me? Plus, you gave her the microphone at your tea? Why would you do that?”

  I looked out my side window and waited for an answer.

  Evie’s voice sounded tired. “I deserve that, Donna, I know I do. But you’ve got to believe me when I tell you I didn’t know that Dee Dee and Velvet were coming tonight, and I certainly didn’t know that they had arranged with the choir director and Lisa Leann to sing. It was an innocent mistake, I assure you. No one meant to hurt you. You’ve got to believe that.”

  I turned and looked at her. “But why didn’t you tell me who Dee Dee was?”

  “Your father wanted to do it.”

  I stared back out the window. “How long has he known?”

  “A while now. But with all you’ve gone through of late, he didn’t have the heart to tell you. Then, when he discovered what kind of person your mother had become...”

  I felt myself stiffen. “Okay, I get the picture. But it would have been nice if one of you had told me. Can you imagine how I felt to be surprised like that?”

  I looked back at Evie who was staring at the back of her hands, her head down. “I saw it on your face. Oh Donna! I’m so, so sorry.”

  Was she genuinely repentant? I narrowed my eyes.

  Evie looked up at me. “Don’t you see what she was doing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Both your father and I had told her to leave you alone. She laughed at us. So, she’s taken her revenge out on you and us, trying to create a scandal such a short time before the wedding.” Evie dabbed the tissue at her eyes again. “How could she?”

  “Ah, so this turns out to be all about you and your many grudges.”

  “Donna, no. Why would you say a thing like that to me?”

  “Simply an observation.”

  “Donna, we’ll talk about it later, when you’re not so upset. Why don’t we meet over at your father’s house? Let him know what happened.” She pushed the door open and slid out. “I’ll meet you over there, okay?”

  I looked at her bundled in her beige wool coat, her mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. Since when did she start wearing makeup?

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m on duty, you know.”

  “Okay, but before we meet at Lisa Leann’s shop next week for my shower and fitting for the bridesmaids’ gowns, okay?”

  I nodded.

  The door of the church opened, and Dee Dee and Velvet scurried out, with Vel
vet lugging her guitar, which she slid into the backseat of a red, older-model Toyota.

  Evie called out to the women. “Doreen, Velvet, may I have a word with you?”

  I called after her. “Evie, just walk away.”

  Evie turned and flashed her eyes in my direction. “This is for our honor, our family.”

  “As an officer of the peace, Evie, I’m telling you this is not the time.”

  Evie ignored me and made her approach. My two blood relatives looked up as if ready for battle. “What do you want, Evangeline?” Dee Dee hissed between clenched teeth.

  Uh-oh. Looks like I could have a catfight on my hands. Quietly, I slipped out of the Bronco and walked toward my so-called family. As I was still on duty, I tried to act official.

  “Ladies, is there a problem?” I asked.

  Velvet turned and looked at me. “Why, if it isn’t Miss High and Mighty herself.”

  I folded my arms. “Pardon me, but I don’t even know you.”

  “Well, I know you,” Velvet charged. “You’re all the men in this town ever talk about.”

  I sighed slowly but deeply. Was this sister-intruder jealous of me? I tried not to smirk.

  Suddenly, Dee Dee McGurk turned on me, full of rage. “Your father certainly did a poor job of raising you, I’d say.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Here I was, taking a risk, seeking you out like that. I put it all on the line, honey. All. Velvet told me not to, she told me I’d just end up embarrassing myself. And she was right. But I’ve been watching you, Donna. I never dreamed you’d be the kind of woman who’d let her mother down, to embarrass her by walking out on her in front of the whole town.”

  “Isn’t that what you did to me and Daddy?” I charged. “Walk out on us, in front of the whole town?”

  Suddenly I realized my voice was as loud as hers.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Dee Dee said. “I was alone in a loveless marriage. When I got a chance for love with Harvey, well, I took it.”

  I stared at her hard. “You weren’t alone. Daddy loved you. It almost broke his heart when you left. I know I was only four, but I heard him crying, so many nights. You almost destroyed that man. Not to mention the child you left behind.”

  “But don’t you see, I was no good for you the way I was. Depressed, bored in my marriage. You were better off without me.”

  “If that’s what you think, why didn’t you do me the favor of staying away?”

  “Why, you little brat!”

  Evie joined the fray. “How dare you call her that? Donna is a fine young woman that you threw away. As for you, I’ve seen your record, I know all about you, and soon Vernon will show Donna your arrest record for prostitution and the like.”

  “How dare you talk about my private business in front of my daughters!” Doreen shouted, shoving Evie hard.

  Evie stumbled backward, then walked forward and shoved Dee Dee back. “Keep your hands to yourself, you dried-up old prune.”

  The voice of dispatch suddenly screeched out of my radio, which I had fastened to my belt.

  “Donna, be advised of a 10-100. You’re needed in the Grace Church parking lot. We’ve had a call of some sort of altercation in progress.”

  “Ten-four,” I said. “I’m already on it.”

  That’s when I noticed the crowd of Christmas tea partygoers that was gathering around us. Some of the ladies had cell phones in their hands. Just then, the pastor stepped out of his office located across the parking lot. Wade tagged at his heels.

  “Deputy, what’s going on out here?” the pastor asked.

  “I’ve got it under control,” I said. I turned to Evie. “You get in your car and drive to Dad’s.” I turned to my mother and sister. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but here and now’s not the time. Understand?”

  The women nodded.

  “Go home,” I said. “We’ll talk later.”

  As the cars in the parking lot began to empty into the street, I pulled out my flashlight as if to direct traffic.

  “Donna, what are you doing?” a familiar voice asked. “What happened here tonight?”

  I turned around, surprised to see Wade was standing beside me. He was dressed in jeans and a fleece-lined denim jacket over one of his favorite black tees. “That woman”—my voice began to tremble—“ that woman arguing with Evie? That was my mother.”

  “What?” Suddenly Wade was helping me into my truck. “I need to get you out of here, Donna.”

  I nodded. “How about to Jupiter? That might be far enough away.”

  Wade walked around to the passenger’s seat, then swung the door open and climbed inside. “I’m done with my meeting with the pastor, so that means I’m available for you.”

  I stared at him. “I’m on duty.”

  Wade snapped on his seat belt and gave me a grin. “Good thing, because I’m your ride-along. Would that be alright? We can go by the station, and I’ll sign the necessary paperwork. Okay?”

  I nodded then started my Bronco. Wade let the silence thicken as I prepared to follow the flow of traffic out of the parking lot. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he finally said.

  I nodded again, then turned briefly to study his eyes. When he wasn’t drinking, they were the clearest blue, like they were right now. I fought back a tear that threatened to slip from my lashes and tried to smile. Wade smiled back as I merged with traffic. My mind formed a new and startling thought. Maybe, just maybe, I had a friend after all. And with all I was going through, I needed all the friends I could get, even if that friend was an old flame who happened to be a recovering alcoholic.

  35

  The Great American Novelist

  A week to the day had passed since the tea.

  And what a week it had been.

  Clay had gotten busy working on the book proposal he hoped to somehow get into the hands of a man he now knew was named Mr. Thomas Jean, whose father had been a French winemaker and whose name was therefore pronounced “John,” with a little “ja” in the “john.”

  Clay had spent a great deal of time practicing saying, “My editor, Mr. Thomas Jean...” as he pecked away at his laptop keyboard while Woodward and Bernstein watched from their cage. “Be good, boys,” he said to them, “and when Daddy sells this book idea and gets a six-figure advance he’ll buy you a nice new cage. A big one. Big, big, big.”

  The only downside in the whole week had been Donna. He couldn’t seem to keep up with her... or her boyfriends. At times, he’d spot her with David Harris. At other times with Wade Gage. Clay wasn’t concerned she’d had some kind of moral breakdown; he knew that there wasn’t anything immoral going on. But he was concerned about her nonetheless.

  Clay had done some other writing too, besides that which he hoped would be the story of his life. The Great American Novel, as some said. He’d begun writing editorial pieces about Donna, hoping to help some with her legal case. He’d written about the good she’d done over the years, both as a friend and as a deputy. About cases she’d solved and even how she’d saved Coach and Goldie Dippel in the snowslide a few weeks back.

  The thought of Coach and Goldie caused a frown to form on his lips and a crease to wrinkle his brow. He’d seen them in the parking lot at the tea. Coach was helping her into his car. She seemed... tense. Jerked the car handle away from his grip and shut the door herself. Something in that scenario wasn’t right. But what?

  “Clay, my boy,” he said aloud, “it’s your business to find out.” He looked at the gerbils. “Sorry, guys. I’ve gotta go do what they call investigating.”

  Lizzie

  36

  Fresh-Brewed Day

  By Thursday, Summit County public schools had been back in session from Christmas break for two days, and I had already asked for a day off.

  I’ll admit, this did not endear me any to our school principal, but I didn’t care. When he asked me why, after two weeks paid vacation, I need
ed another day off, I simply told him the truth and let the chips fall where they may, as they say.

  And I hate clichés. But there you have it. My life has disintegrated to the point where I am using clichés.

  So, I called my principal, Mr. Tobin, on Wednesday night after church services and said, “Mr. Tobin, here’s the deal. My husband, as you know, is home with an injured back. What you don’t know is that the man has become a slave to court TV. You name it, he’s watching it. Judge Judy, Judge Alex, Judge Mathis, some judge from Texas, and—I’m not sure, but I’m fairly certain—Judge Roy Bean.”

  “Isn’t he dead?” Mr. Tobin asked, his voice as expressionless as a corpse.

  “That’s the thing,” I answered. “He’s back. He’s back from the dead, and I’m listening to him hand down sentences left and right all day long.” I took a deep breath and sighed. “By the way, did you happen to see the segment on The People’s Court where—”

  “Which judge is that?” Mr. Tobin interrupted.

  “The pretty one. Judge Milliron or Milrod. Wait a minute...” I paused long enough to hear the voice of the announcer. “Judge Marilyn Milian!” I exclaimed as happily as a kid who just discovered that Santa brought the one thing on her list that she really, really, really wanted.

  “Lizzie, are you alright?”

  I rolled my eyes. Did the man not listen? “No, I’m not alright. I’m going slap crazy. My husband watches too much television, my son and his wife and their kids are living here, my daughter and her boyfriend are, seemingly, always here, and my mother is now in an assisted-living facility nearby. I have not one second of private time anymore, I haven’t read my Bible other than at church in I don’t know how long, and the laundry is piled so high I’m thinking about building on an extra room for it.”

  Another long pause. I tapped my foot to its rhythm.

  “So, you need a day to do laundry?” he asked.

  I pressed a fingertip against one temple. “No. I need a day to just be.”

  “But your husband will still be home, right?”