“Donna Vesey,” he scribbled, then rested his chin in the palm of his hand. Nah, he wouldn’t ever write that book. He and Donna went way back. Too far for him to say much else, because, like it or not, he considered himself a gentleman.
“PLC,” he jotted, then shook his head. A smart guy like him couldn’t help but wonder what a girl like Donna was doing in the Potluck.
Among other things . . .
10
Barbecuing the Competition
When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I bounced out of bed. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about disturbing Henry; he’d gotten up at 5:00 and had already left for his favorite fishing hole. That meant I had the place all to myself. I flipped on the radio to K-LOVE, a godsend of contemporary Christian music that somehow reached this remote mountain town. I turned up the volume to sing with Michael W. Smith as he belted out one of my favorites, “Place in This World.”
The coffee’s automatic timer had already started my first pot of coffee brewing, and my trusty bread machine with its automatic programming had just finished baking a loaf of apple cinnamon bread. It looked perfectly risen with a cinnamon tan. I checked the brisket. It had been in the oven simmering for more than ten hours. In a couple more hours the tender slab of barbeque would be ready to serve. My home was a symphony of aromas and music. I felt sorry for Henry. Imagine, he was missing all this wonder just to stand in his waders in a freezing river.
After I sipped my cream-swirled coffee, ate a slice of fresh bread with apple butter, and danced with Video Jane, as I call Ms. Fonda, I returned to my bathroom and warmed up the shower. I slipped out of my gold satin pj’s and stepped under the hot jet. Hmmm. This did beat a hot, muggy morning in Houston. Things would almost be perfect here. Almost, if only it weren’t so lonely.
After my shower, I slipped into my designer teal blue sweater with the fringe around the bottom, my size-four blue jeans, and my kicky black leather boots, then I applied my makeup with the skill of an artist. After that, I combed my hair to curl just so around my face. Happily, in this mountain air, it would be dry in no time. Next, I grabbed my Bible and headed for the deck with my favorite comforter.
The morning was crisp, and the sky already a brilliant blue. The lake sparkled with reflections of the mountainsides. Gone were all traces of yesterday evening’s snow shower, except for a couple of white patches hiding in the shadows. It was amazing how fast the weather could change around here. Like last evening, one minute we had swirling snow and the next minute we had brilliant stars. It was all spectacular.
I took a deep breath and thanked God for this beauty before I turned to the first chapter of James. Verses 2 through 4 jumped out to me, just as if God meant the words to go right to my heart: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
Wasn’t that precious of God to comfort me when I’m going through this difficult move? It’s true, when I read my Bible, God speaks to me. It was too bad that I never had much time for Bible reading in Texas.
I went back into the house and poured myself another cup of coffee and turned on Fox and Friends as I readied my presentation of brisket surprise. First, I pulled out the brisket, added the barbeque sauce and onion salt, lowered the heat, and slid it back in. Secondly, I covered a large shallow box lid with foil that would serve as my tray. Next, I papered the bottom of the tray with baby blue contact paper complete with pink and gray roses. Lovely. I opened my cupboard to peruse my disposable aluminum foil serving dishes. I selected two. A small one for Henry, in case he got tired of eating fish, and a large one for Evangeline and her company. Then, I cut the fresh apple cinnamon bread into thick slices with my electric knife and rolled the slices into a tube of foil. Finally, I added a small, unopened jar of apple butter.
I opened the oven door and pulled out the brisket. It looked perfect. I slid the hot pan out of the oven and put it on my cooling rack. Soon I filled both of my disposable pans to the brim with hot brisket, then covered the tops with foil.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Of course, I hadn’t planned any side dishes, but with luck, Evangeline had already made that little potato thing of hers. Besides, the aroma was magnificent! This was a meal that would open any door. Who would be able to resist?
After clearing the kitchen of dirty pots and pans, I slipped into my black leather coat and headed for the Lincoln. I glanced at my watch: perfect timing. I should arrive at about 11:30 at Evangeline’s front door, where I would present her with lunch and win a chance to solve the mystery of her secret visitor.
And it was a mystery. I just knew Evangeline wouldn’t postpone her club for just anyone. If she were entertaining friends or family, she would probably just invite her guests to join our luncheon, unless there was a compelling reason for secrecy.
I couldn’t help it. I absolutely shivered with excitement. This was my most intriguing Summit View adventure yet! I couldn’t wait till I called my mama to tell her about it. She and Daddy still lived in Denton, Texas, even though it had been six years since Dad retired from teaching history at North Texas State University.
It was pathetic, really; my mom and I had always been close, though I hadn’t always invested the time to call her on a regular basis. But since I’d moved to Colorado, I practically lived for our daily phone visits. And to speak frankly, Mom’s had been the only friendly voice I’d heard since I moved to Summit View. Too bad that voice originated from a cozy Texas kitchen almost two thousand miles away.
A few moments later, I pulled up in front of Evangeline’s hundred-year-old clapboard Victorian house. It was complete with a steep roof of red shingles with lacy white woodwork beneath the peaks. I loved the wraparound covered porch with its ornate white columns.
Simply adorable. The whole house was framed by yellow-leafed aspens that had spilled a blanket of liquid gold all the way to the front door. Surely, this was all a sign from God that I was walking in his will. He had even rolled out the carpet for me.
Carefully, I pulled my tray of brisket and bread out of the trunk and walked down the golden path. I climbed the steps and managed to use the brass knocker on the red-painted door. I could hear the hardwood floors squeak as Evangeline came to answer. She opened the door only a crack. Intriguing.
I smiled my best Lisa Leann smile into Evangeline’s frown. Evangeline spoke first. She sounded exasperated. “The meeting is off. Didn’t you get the message?”
“Yes, I did. But when I heard you had company, and me with all this hot barbecued brisket and homemade apple cinnamon bread, I had to drop by. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
Evangeline stared at my tray. The door opened a bit wider as she smiled what appeared to be a tense smile at my lovely presentation. “How thoughtful. Let me just take it here at the door, so as not to disturb my guest. I would invite you in, but . . .”
In the background, I caught a glimpse of a young woman making her way down a mahogany staircase. “Who’s at the door, Aunt Evie?”
Aunt Evie? The girl’s steps landed her behind the half-closed door. Before Evangeline could react, the door had swung wide open. And there before me stood Evangeline’s very own, very tall, and very pregnant niece. Ta-da! Mystery revealed.
I was delighted. This young woman was tall and practically glowed with white porcelain skin and bright blue eyes, which were lined dramatically with black liner and heavy mascara. Her lids were polished with blue, silver, and ivory shadow that helped create a wide-eyed charm. Her cheeks shimmered with a rosy blush, and I loved her pouty lips. They were heavily outlined in deep maroon with a luscious rose filling. She could teach the other Potluckers a few things about makeup, I can tell you. She was dressed in a long black dress—slimming, but not enough to hide her blossoming belly.
“You must be Evangeline’s niece,” I chimed. “I heard you were
here, so I thought I’d drop by to bring you some of my hot barbecued brisket.”
“Wow, and just in time for lunch too,” the girl sang. “Aunt Evie, invite her into the kitchen. I’m starving.”
Before Evangeline could stop me, I was following my invitation down the hall. As I proudly carried my offering, I couldn’t help but notice that Evangeline’s home was impressive. It was full of mahogany antiques and quaint maroon velvet sofas with large original paintings of mountain meadows full of Indian paintbrushes and columbines. Lovely.
The kitchen was charming too. Of course, it had been updated, and I simply loved the whitewashed wooden cabinets with their glass fronts. Through the glass, I could see rosy china and Depression glass stacked in neat arrangements. I adored the big iron sink and the oak kitchen table decked with hand-crocheted placemats of Dutch-blue yarn.
“Evie, this is truly charming,” I said, turning to see her pale face.
“Thank you for bringing over the meal,” she said. “I’d invite you to stay, but you must be busy.”
“Oh no, I’d love to join you,” I said as I removed my leather jacket and slung it over the kitchen chair I was claiming as my own.
The niece busied herself setting the table, while I began to unwrap my gourmet lunch. Evie seemed at a loss for what to do but soon found herself pouring the tea into glasses of ice and setting butter on the table.
“Leigh, honey, put the sugar on the table too,” Evie said.
Leigh. Now I had a name to go with this beautiful young woman. Of course, her hair was a bit too apple red, not to mention a bit too spiky for my taste, but she’d certainly fit in with my Nelson’s party friends. And she looked to be Mandy’s age, and pregnant too. Seeing this girl made my heart pang in longing for my own daughter and soon-to-come first grandchild. Maybe this was God’s offering to me. A gift to fill in for my daughter who was so far away. But I couldn’t jump to conclusions; I’d have to wait to see.
I had been wrong about the potatoes. Instead, Evangeline reheated a tasty rice dish, a perfect complement to the barbeque, though a nice salad would have enhanced the meal.
We sat around the table, and Evie managed the prayer. “Dear Lord, be with us today and protect us from the enemy. Amen.”
Of course, I wasn’t sure if Evie meant Satan or me. She probably hadn’t decided. And who knows, maybe she’s right in her fear of me. After all, I planned to take control of the Potluck Club, and if I were really lucky, I might soon proudly own her niece’s friendship.
It was time to make my first conversational move as Evie and Leigh tasted my delectable barbeque. I waited until Evangeline’s mouth was full.
“Leigh,” I started, “how long do you plan to stay?”
“Probably until after the baby comes. Maybe longer.”
I couldn’t help but notice that this comment seemed to alarm Evie. But I pretended not to notice. “Then your husband will be joining you?”
“No. I’m not married,” Leigh answered.
Evie almost choked on her mouthful of barbeque.
“Then you’re planning on raising your baby yourself?”
Leigh glanced at Evie. “Of course. All I need is a supportive place to call home.”
With that, Evie jumped up to get some more bread off the kitchen counter, almost spilling her glass of tea.
“Oh dear” was all she said.
“No one’s ever accused me of being shy, so I’ll ask: have you thought about adoption?” I said, like this was the most natural conversation in the world.
“I won’t even consider it.”
“When’s the baby due?”
Before Leigh could answer, the doorbell rang. Evangeline ran to answer it.
Leigh confided in her absence. “A couple of months.”
I know that’s when I lost my eyebrows under my red curls, but I just couldn’t help it. For I could see this young lady didn’t have a clue as to what she had gotten herself into. It was like my daddy had always said: “There are two kinds of people—the ones who learn by reading and observation, and the others who have to touch the fire to see if it’s really hot.”
Leigh was about to get scorched if, for heaven’s sake, she didn’t have a friend like me.
Suddenly, I heard Donna’s voice at the door. “Canceled? I didn’t know. I knew I should’ve checked that phone message before I drove all the way over.”
Aha. Another one of my potential projects had arrived. I stood and walked to the kitchen door. “Hi, Donna,” I called.
Donna looked perturbed, but surely not at me. She was off duty, dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a floppy white T-shirt with the word dangerous emblazoned in red. Heavens. If only she’d pat on a little makeup and let that hair grow a bit, she wouldn’t look so much like a young boy. I bet she’d have lovely curls. Like mine.
I called again, “Evie, invite Donna in. Let’s have our own party.”
“What smells so good?” Donna asked as she accepted my invitation and walked toward the kitchen, lugging a Crock-Pot and grocery sack, much to Evangeline’s irritation.
“My barbeque brisket,” I said as I hurried to grab another plate. Leigh stood and helped with the silverware and napkins. Donna busied herself with her apple cider and Crock-Pot. “For dessert,” she announced. She turned to look at Leigh, and her eyes popped.
Evie offered, “Donna, you remember Leigh, don’t you?”
Donna quickly adjusted to her surprise as she sat down. She scooped a large helping of my brisket onto her plate, then buttered her apple cinnamon bread. “Little Leigh? You were all of sixteen the last time I saw you. You’re from West Virginia, right?”
Leigh smiled at Donna. “That’s right. I just flew in yesterday.” I leaned back in my chair and almost let my happy sigh escape my lips. This was perfect. The conversation wouldn’t need much direction from me, and I could concentrate on studying each of these women. Though, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Evangeline. Here was a woman who loved control, and that control had just slipped through her fingers. Which, to tell the truth, was all right with me.
Soon, Evangeline’s world would be my domain. And as for Donna, she was a woman who ate a meal without so much of a prayer or blessing. There was a lot more to her than her dear Grace Church friends suspected. I detected a lot of pent-up anger. But why? A dark secret, perhaps? Whatever it was, not only was I going to find out, I would somehow manage to give her a much-deserved makeover. I could hardly wait to get started.
11
She’s got some nerve . . .
Clay had seen Lizzie Prattle in the Higher Grounds Café earlier that day, so he knew the Potluck Club had been canceled. The news had caused a bit of a stir among those, like him, who were sitting there nursing hot cups of coffee and finishing off plates of the daily breakfast special.
“Everybody knows that Evie doesn’t call off the meeting for just any reason.” Sal, the owner of Higher Grounds, was poised with coffeepot in hand as she refilled his cup for the fifth time that morning. “That’s just odd,” she continued. “Wonder what’s going on over at Evie’s?” “Maybe she’s not feeling well. Cold weather coming in . . . some people are getting sick,” someone from behind Clay said, though he wasn’t sure who.
Lizzie shook her head. “Evie’s fine. Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s a good one.”
But when Clay saw Lisa Leann’s car heading toward Evie’s side of town, he spoke out loud but to no one in particular. “There goes trouble.” In spite of himself, he chuckled a bit. For a little bitty thing, he thought, that woman carries a lot of nerve.
Not too much later, Donna’s Bronco passed by the café, heading in the same direction. This time, Clay nearly fell out of his chair. “What’s so funny?” Sal asked from the counter.
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered. “I just got a mental picture of three hens fighting in a coop.”
Sal frowned. “You need help,” she said.
“Someone does,” he said, reaching
for his notebook and pen. “But it’s not me.”
12
Mincing Words
It didn’t take long after our canceled Potluck Club meeting for us to know why the postponement. Evie’s niece coming to town seven months pregnant jolted us to no end; I won’t lie about it. After all, this was Leigh whose swollen belly we were suddenly staring at a whole day later in the middle of the church parking lot. Leigh, who’d come to visit every summer and who’d played with my own daughter, Michelle.
Michelle and Leigh are the same age. When Leigh came to visit Evie alone for the first time, the girls were about eight years old. Evie explained to Leigh that there was a little girl she could play with, but that the little girl—my daughter—was deaf. Couldn’t hear sounds and couldn’t speak well enough to always be understood, though she does have a voice. I think it’s a beautiful voice.
Leigh wasn’t the least bit intimidated by this. We brought the girls together, my old chum and I, and allowed their hearts to blend in a very special way. In no time, Leigh was attempting to learn sign language, and by the end of the summer she’d pretty well mastered it. For Michelle, it was more than merely gaining a new friend, or even a hearing friend. Michelle attended Denver Institute for the Deaf in those days, so she had plenty of deaf friends. They seemed to have so much in common.
The girls loved Barbie. And Cabbage Patch dolls. And biking on warm afternoons. They spoke of their friends; Michelle’s from the Institute and Leigh’s from West Virginia. During the school year they wrote letters to each other and, eventually, when personal computers became as common as television, they emailed. The passing years only added to their camaraderie. They shared favorite movies and music, stories of boyfriends and future plans.
To my knowledge, however, they’d never talked about being unwed mothers.
I asked Michelle about it as soon as we returned home from church that autumn morning.
The Potluck Club Page 7