I whirled back around. “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I said. “But Donna’s on duty tonight. I’ll text her to see what she can tell me.”
“You do that,” Fred said as he looked in the refrigerator for my pitcher of iced tea and began to pour the tea in glasses of popping ice.
I could tell he was glad I was checking in with Donna. Truth be known, she truly was like a daughter to us. When her mom had abandoned her dad when she was only a tiny thing, I’d stepped into her life to become the mom she’d lost. I’d started out as her Sunday school teacher in fifth grade, but we grew close as I took her shopping and talked with her about stuff like boys and why she needed to take algebra. Even now we were close friends. That’s one reason why I’m so tickled that she’s dating my David. If those two got married, she’d become my real daughter. How perfect would that be?
I walked over to my purse, which was still next to my recliner, and pulled out my recently purchased cell phone. “A must-have,” Donna had explained to me when she drove me over to the cellular phone store in Breckenridge. I flipped open the phone, which was sort of a raspberry pink, and selected Donna’s name in my contact list, then the “text” option. I carefully typed out my message: “Y ambulance @ dippels?”
I hit send and waited for Donna to text back. I was surprised when she actually called. I picked up. “Donna? What’s going on?”
“It’s Jack.”
I felt my breath catch. I swallowed hard and repeated the name for Fred’s benefit. “Jack? Is he going to be okay?”
“There was nothing they could do. Goldie found him when she got home from Denver.”
Luckily I was standing next to one of my kitchen chairs, and I sat down hard.
“Oh dear. Are any of the Potluckers with Goldie now?”
“Lizzie’s on her way.”
“Maybe I better have Fred drive me over too,” I suggested.
“You hang tight. Goldie’s place is starting to look like a zoo with so many of her and Jack’s friends pouring in. I have a feeling Goldie is going to need you more tomorrow when things start to quiet down,” Donna advised.
Fred looked at me with quizzical eyes, and I blinked hard as I shook my head to indicate Jack was . . . well . . . gone. I stood on wobbly legs and walked toward the end of my counter, where I snatched a tissue to dab at my eyes. “What a horrible thing,” I stammered just before I blew my nose.
“Are you going to be okay?” Donna asked. Her voice was filled with concern.
“Yes, of course,” I said. “Fred’s here with me. But will you drop by later? I have your favorite—chili.”
“I think David and I are going to brown-bag it tonight for our dinner break. That is, if we can find the time.”
“Swing by here first,” I insisted. “I’ve got a couple of scoops of pecan cobbler for the two of you, for dessert.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Donna said. “If you don’t mind waiting up.”
———
When Donna finally arrived about 10:00 p.m., I’d already gone through half a box of tissues just thinking about poor Goldie without Jack. I mean, first Goldie’s daddy’s dying and now Jack. It didn’t seem fair.
I hated to answer Donna’s knock with such a puffy face, but my looks weren’t so much an issue, not compared to the news about Jack.
“Aw, Vonnie,” Donna said as she wrapped me in her arms. When we pulled back, Donna flicked away a rare tear, and I realized she was grieving as hard as me. I shook my head, marveling at her professional fortitude, knowing instinctively this was the first tear she’d let escape over Jack’s death.
Donna flopped down in one of my kitchen chairs. “It really stinks,” she said as I hurried to scoop pecan cobbler into empty whipped topping containers. I dabbed the cobblers with homemade whipped cream, which resembled fluffy clouds of goo.
I resealed the plastic containers and handed them to her, along with two plastic spoons wrapped in paper napkins.
“How’re you holding up?” I asked.
“Just feeling sad,” Donna said. “Sad for Goldie and how she’ll miss Jack.”
I nodded silently, thinking how much I’d miss Fred if he were to suddenly depart without me. The very thought prompted me to grab another tissue and blow my nose again.
Donna continued, “And I guess, if the truth be told, I feel kind of sad for me.”
“How’s that?” I asked as Fred joined us in the kitchen. We sat down at the table with Donna.
“Well, just look at the two of you,” she said as Fred cupped his hand over mine. “You have each other. But me, I’ve never settled down.”
Fred chuckled. “It’s not that the boys around here haven’t tried to win your heart,” he said.
Donna’s cheeks pinked, but she didn’t respond.
“So what are you going to do about it? About settling down?” I asked. “I mean, you’re dating David, right? He’s already proposed to you once. Seems to me you could settle down whenever you want.”
“I care about David, I do,” Donna said. “It’s just, we’re still getting to know one another, you know? I mean, if he’s really half the man he seems to be, then, well, I’m certain I could give him my whole heart.” She shrugged. “But as for that proposal of his, he sprung that on me when we’d only just met. There’s no way I could have accepted.”
“But what about now?”
So help me if Donna didn’t blush. She said, “We’ve only been going out a few weeks, though I definitely have feelings, it’s still too soon to tell.”
I could see I was getting too personal, so I switched topics. “Are you excited to meet David’s friend Bobby?”
“Bobby?”
“You know, his friend flying in from LA.”
“David never told me he had a friend flying in.”
Fred and I looked at each other, then back at Donna. “Really?”
Donna shook her head and shrugged. “I’ll have to ask him about that when we meet for dinner in a few minutes.”
I nodded as she stood to go. After we said our good-byes and she’d bounded out the front door, Fred leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I’m not so sure it was a good idea to mention Bobby.”
I continued to wave but raised a brow. “Why not?”
Fred leaned his head closer to my ear and said, “That’s the ‘Bobby,’ as in ‘Bobbie Ann,’ you know, David’s fiancée.”
My jaw dropped. “What?”
He patted my arm. “I mean his ex-fiancée. You know, the one he broke up with just before he moved out to Colorado.”
I watched as Donna’s Bronco pulled out of our driveway and into the night before I turned and stared at Fred. I felt a bit weak and reached for his hand. “Oh dear.”
Lizzie
7
Crusty Encounters
It had been nearly a week since the girls and I had been on television and Jack had died.
Sunday morning I made a pot of coffee, prepared two cups, and joined my husband in the family room of our home, where he sat nestled near the corner windows. The day had dawned overcast; though the sun had surely risen from its sleeping place, one could not prove it by looking at the sky. Gray clouds obscured the mountain peaks, and even they, in all their glory, seemed less majestic underneath. Shoulders slumped, I handed Samuel’s cup to him then took a sip and swallowed hard.
“You know, it wouldn’t take much to talk me out of going to church this morning,” I said. I slipped into one of the nearby chairs then crossed my legs, right over left. I jiggled my foot to adjust my bedroom slipper then leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “I’m just so tired after this last week.”
“Now, Liz . . .”
“This last month. These last few months. Gracious, I know sixteen-year-olds who couldn’t keep up with my schedule.”
Samuel reached over from his chair, cupped his hand around mine, and said, “Tell you what. Today I’ll take you out to lunch at Higher Grounds, then we can come home, have a slice of that p
each cobbler you brought from Goldie’s, and take a nap.”
I smiled, opened my eyes, and turned my head toward him. “Nice try on the nap. You know Michelle and Adam are coming over this afternoon. Michelle promised to go with me to check on Mom.” I sighed deeply. “I haven’t been to see her since before the funeral. Between that and work and everything in between, I’ve just not had time.”
“I know. That’s why I went by to see her on Thursday. She was doing fine.”
I shifted in my seat. “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Samuel took a sip of coffee, then said, “There was nothing really to tell. She didn’t know who I was, though she told me I was quite good looking and she wouldn’t mind one bit if I took her out to dinner.” He winked. “I think your mother had quite the devilish side to her in her early days.”
I frowned as I looked forward again. My mother, who’d always been the epitome of dignity and decorum as she raised her family, had—since being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s—done things hardly considered appropriate. Including convincing a young college student named Kimberly who volunteered at the nursing home to buy a black teddy so Mom could “spice up her love life.”
As far I knew, my mother’s love life had ceased the day my father died.
“I’d rather not talk about that,” I finally said to Samuel. I cupped the warm coffee mug between the palms of my hands and took in the splendor of the world around me. Nothing but nothing, even on a gray day like today, could touch the beauty of Summit View, Colorado. Whenever I took in the sights—from her lush valleys to her lofty mountains—I couldn’t help but wonder what our Native Americans must have thought as they came across her. My mind wandered to our earliest settlers and how they carved out the roads here as they came to mine for gold. They built the town while they built their families, never fully conscious of the generations who would follow. How could they have known the impact they would have on my grandparents’ world, my parents’, or my own?
My husband interrupted my musing. “A penny for your thoughts.”
I smiled at him. “I was just thinking how blessed I am to live here. Not just this house. Here, in Summit View.” I took a breath as I pondered my own thoughts. “You know, Samuel, New York City is a vibrant place. I’d daresay the city itself is alive. It pulsates. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I do indeed.”
“But nothing mankind has ever built can compare with what God has done here. No amount of riches ever obtained can compare with the most simple life right here at home.”
“Kind of like that song we sing at church.”
“What song?”
“You know, the one that says God is more precious than silver and nothing can compare with him.”
“Ah yes.” I leaned my head against the back of the chair. “Yes. And you’re right. I shouldn’t pass up an opportunity to be in church this morning.” I rose from my chair. “I’m first in the shower,” I announced.
“You always are.”
———
As we stepped across the lawn of Grace Church, I asked Samuel if he thought Goldie would be in church this morning.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “What would you do?”
“I don’t think I could come so soon,” I said. We walked up the few steps to the front door, where we were met by Vernon and Evangeline, who served as greeters.
“Good morning,” we all said to each other.
“Have you seen Goldie?” I asked Evie as the men shook hands.
She shook her head. “No. I was just saying that I wondered if she’d come.”
I looked to Samuel and then back to her. “I just said the same thing not one minute ago.”
“Great minds,” Vernon commented, then added, “but quite frankly, I don’t understand why she wouldn’t come to church. I mean, it’s church. It’s not like she’s coming to a party.”
Evie bristled. “We cannot expect you men to understand the ways of women.”
“Thank the good Lord for that,” Samuel said with a chuckle.
I looked at Evie again. “But have you talked to her? I tried to call her yesterday, but she wasn’t answering.”
“I did too. Got the same response. So I drove over.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t there. Nor were any of her family members.”
“Hmm. Well, she needs time to grieve, but she also doesn’t need to shut herself off from her friends. I admit, Evie, I’m concerned about her. That relationship was nothing short of tumultuous, and then to have it right itself only to end so abruptly.” I shook my head as I crossed my arms, holding the Bible I carried close to me. “I don’t know.”
Evie patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Lizzie. We won’t let her fall into a depression. She’s got good friends here for her once her family and Jack’s are all gone.”
I felt Samuel’s hand touch the small of my back. “Come on, woman. Let’s get inside.”
We said our good-byes, then went inside. I saw Michelle and Adam sitting in our usual pew, so we joined them. Several minutes later the service began. As part of the announcements, Pastor Kevin gave a report on the financial status since our winning The Great Party Showdown and where things stood with the renovation of the church.
“As many of you know,” he said, “this part of the church dates back over 150 years. Part of what we’d like to do is to pull up this carpet—which has seen better days—and restore the old flooring beneath us. Needless to say, some of that flooring will need to be replaced. We’re going to do our best not to remove any of the planking unless we absolutely have to. In other words, we’ll restore what can be restored and replace what cannot be.” He chuckled. “Restored, that is.”
A ripple of laughter floated from the congregation.
“All that to say,” Pastor Kevin continued, “we’ll have to meet in the fellowship hall for a few weeks, starting next week. And, with that, we’ll need some help with setup early Sunday mornings and breakdown after Sunday evening services.”
Heads nodded around me. The church’s fellowship hall was used for so much during the week, it would be impossible to keep it set up for church services, Sunday to Sunday.
“If you would like to be a part of our chair moving team,” Kevin added, “drop a volunteer card into the offering plate during the offertory.” He smiled. “Now, stand with me as you turn to page 249 in your hymnbook . . .”
———
Samuel told me he needed to speak with the pastor before we left the church, so I waited out by the car. The day was still overcast, but the weather was warm enough that I didn’t need a sweater. I leaned against our SUV and peered up at the sky, trying to gauge the position of the obscured sun. I breathed in the pungent aroma of the evergreens that dotted the church grounds, then thought how—soon enough—they would be laden with snow, their branches heavy and drooping. The town of Summit View would deck the halls as the air turned from cold to frigid. It was absolutely my favorite time of the year, and it was just around the corner.
I closed my eyes at the thought, then opened them in time to see a strange man walking from the far side of the church. He wore a coat, oversized pants, and a cap with its rim pulled low over dark sunglasses. Though he looked toward me, he didn’t acknowledge me. I found myself almost calling out to him, as though I knew him, and then—realizing I did not—said nothing. He walked to the sidewalk, turned right, and ambled toward a cluster of buildings on Main Street where Higher Grounds is located.
My stomach growled at the thought of the restaurant. I glanced at my watch—it was now 12:30—then looked back to the front door of the church just in time to see Samuel and Pastor Kevin coming out of the door. When they reached me, I said, “Kevin, will you join us for lunch?”
“Nah,” he said with a smile. “I’m pretty tired today. Think I’ll go home, eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and take a nap.”
Samuel nodded. “Are you sure?”
“You two go ha
ve yourselves a nice lunch,” Kevin said. “Hopefully you’ll not have to wait too long for service.”
I glanced down the street, shifted, and said, “Hey, guys. Do you two see that man walking there? Just in front of the Wild Wild West Sports Shop?”
“Yeah?” Samuel said. “What about him?”
“He just came from around the church.”
“Okay . . .”
I shook my head. “I know, it sounds silly. But it was like he was walking so close to the building. In a shady kind of way.”
“What does that mean?” Samuel asked.
I couldn’t explain what I meant; I could only express what I felt. There was something odd about that man. “Never mind. He just seemed a little out of place,” I said. I gave the ambling stranger another hard look just in time to see him cross the street and then dart into the lobby of the Snow Capped Motel. I looked back at my husband. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
———
After lunch, the men took Adam and Michelle’s car and went to our house to watch some television and, possibly, nap. Michelle and I took my SUV and headed toward the care center where my mother was now living.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said to her, signing as best I could with one hand while the other clutched the steering wheel.
“No problem,” she signed back. Our daughter—our beautiful youngest of the brood—had been born deaf. Not that her disability seemed to stop her from doing anything and everything she ever wanted to do. While she went to a school for the deaf in Denver during the school year, her childhood summers were filled with activities and friends from Summit View. She was active in sports, enjoyed dancing, Girl Scouts, and—most of all—reading books and discussing them with her mother as if we had our very own book club for two. She went to college, earned a degree, and then took a job at a Breckenridge resort.
She’s not only remarkable, she has always been her grandmother’s pet grandchild. Because I had not been to see Mom in over a week, I thought having Michelle with me might be a good way to ease into the room, so to speak.
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