The Secret's in the Sauce

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  Lisa Leann answered, but not before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Girls, girls. To start a business, one must have the necessary tools of the trade . . . so to speak. Now, we got off easy with the Lowenstein bat mitzvah. But this soirée that the bank is planning for our Michelle”—she paused long enough to beam at Lizzie—“is a very big deal. As I was saying before this little . . . interruption . . . I have already spoken at length to Beverly Jackson. Now, if you will open your notebooks . . .”

  I had been dismissed. Me, Evangeline Benson Vesey. Daughter of the late mayor. Wife of the local sheriff. President of the Potluck Club. I had been dismissed with an instruction to open a notebook.

  I glanced down at the hardback, three-ring binder in my lap. Lisa Leann had printed pink decorative cover sheets with the words “Prattle Bridal Cocktail Party” and slipped them into the front sleeve.

  “How lovely,” Lizzie commented. I glanced up at her momentarily as she went on. “I apologize that I haven’t had time to talk to Beverly myself.”

  “Never you mind, darlin’, ” Lisa Leann said. “She came by the other day. We had tea and petit fours, absolutely delicious, if I may say so myself. She insists that we serve them, by the way, and you will get your own taste after our meeting. I have tea, coffee, and these marvelous little cakes for us once we’re done. Now, notice on page one . . .”

  We all looked at our notebooks. Lisa Leann had carefully laid out the details, page after page of them, to be exact, beginning with the particulars of what Beverly wanted.

  “A cocktail party?” Vonnie asked. “Do they intend to serve alcohol?”

  “We talked about that.”

  “Because I don’t think I could justify this from a spiritual standpoint.”

  “What are you saying?” Lizzie asked. All eyes went to her. “Even Jesus drank wine.”

  “Go, Jesus.” Donna chuckled. Then, taking in our expressions, added, “No disrespect intended.”

  “And I’m sure none taken.” Lisa Leann was clearly trying to get the meeting back on track.

  “A lot of the bank employees drink cocktails, wine with dinner,” Lizzie added. She paused for a moment. “Not Samuel. He’s always been a teetotaler, but we’re looking to please the customer, right?”

  “Ladies, if I might have your attention,” Lisa Leann all but yelled. “Beverly and I have already discussed this. She would like to have the party in the fellowship hall of the church—the only place in town large enough to hold the number of attendees we’re expecting. So this is really a moot point. There will be no alcohol served. Just lots of pretty punch.”

  “Really?” Lizzie asked. “A lot of people for my baby girl’s party? I am touched. I am so touched.” Lizzie truly glowed. “Michelle is going to be tickled pink.”

  Pink? I suddenly had a flash of brilliance. “Speaking of pink, what are Michelle’s colors?” I looked at Lisa Leann. “Quite often the colors the bride chooses are the colors for the parties.”

  “That’s true,” Lisa Leann confirmed with a smile. Lisa Leann looked to Lizzie for an answer.

  “Michelle has chosen—now I know this sounds odd, but I’ve seen it and it is fabulous—black and metallic silver.”

  “I’ve seen that too,” Donna said. “And it’s pretty awesome.”

  “Black?” Vonnie asked. “What bride chooses black? Not that I’m being critical, Lizzie, but . . . black?”

  “Von, wait till you see it,” Donna answered for Lizzie. “I’m telling you, it’s gonna knock your socks off.”

  “Just what I need.” Vonnie wrinkled her brow. She looked nearly pathetic.

  I giggled. “Vonnie, you’re so funny sometimes.”

  “Can we talk about the menu?” Lisa Leann asked.

  “Before we do,” I said, “do we have a date for this . . . soirée, as you called it?”

  “One month from today,” Lizzie answered. “March 25th.”

  “Which is a Saturday,” Lisa Leann noted. “I have a calendar in the back of your notebooks.”

  We all flipped to the back.

  “The wedding is June 24th. That’s four months from now. The shower is in one month. We’re going to have to concentrate and stay on task, girls, if we’re going to pull this off.”

  “And we’re minus one right now,” Vonnie noted.

  “Does anyone know when Goldie is planning to return?” I asked.

  We all looked at each other. “I’m planning to call Goldie tonight,” Lizzie said. “Somewhere between seeing Mom and cooking dinner for the motley crew I call my family.”

  “I hear you,” Vonnie said.

  “Details, girls,” Lisa Leann continued. “Before she left for Georgia, Goldie suggested a money tree theme, which Beverly just loved, by the way. We’re going to get lighted ficus trees, and instead of gifts, the attendees will bring money cards to attach to the leaves . . . to help the new couple get settled financially.”

  “I love it,” Lizzie said. “What a wonderful idea!”

  “I’d love to take credit for it,” Lisa Leann said. “But it was Goldie’s idea.”

  “What about entertainment?” I asked.

  Lisa Leann took a long look at me. “Evie, you’ve been doing your homework, haven’t you?”

  I felt my face grow hot. “I was at a disadvantage. Having just been married and going on my honeymoon and all.”

  I heard Donna sigh.

  Vonnie giggled. “I wouldn’t call a honeymoon a disadvantage.”

  “Not to mention that wedding I threw for you,” Lisa Leann added.

  I pursed my lips. “Entertainment? What about entertainment?”

  “The bank is hiring a string quartet from Denver.”

  Lizzie clapped her hands. “I am loving this!”

  Lisa Leann waved her hands to get everyone’s attention again. “If you look at page three, you’ll see the menu Beverly has chosen for the event.”

  “A chocolate fountain?” Vonnie asked, reading over the page.

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” Lisa Leann said. “We need to buy a chocolate fountain.”

  “With what money?” Vonnie asked.

  I scooted forward in my seat. “Surely we have the bank personnel— or whoever is in charge—putting down a deposit.”

  Lisa Leann pulled a pen I’d not previously seen from somewhere within the strands of her teased hair and behind her ear and pointed it at me. “Yes. But, that’s not going to cover everything. So what I propose to do is loan the Potluck Catering Club some money from my personal finances.”

  “Why not just take out a loan at the bank? A small business loan?” I asked. Now this is where I could really shine.

  “I didn’t plan to charge interest. After all, I’ll be paid back in a month. I’ll hardly miss it.”

  I looked her dead in the eye and pondered her proposition. Blast it all, I had nothing to say in return. “Oh.”

  “How much is a chocolate fountain?” Vonnie asked.

  “I’ve done some research and found one that would be appropriate for our use. It’ll run between $250 and $300.”

  “What will we serve with it?” I asked. “Berries?”

  “Yes,” Lisa Leann answered. “Strawberries, marshmallows, apples, cherries . . .”

  “Yum,” Donna interjected.

  Lizzie was studying the menu. “Poached salmon mousse, pumpernickel crisps, cheese straws, crimini mushrooms with lemonglazed scallops and prosciutto . . .”

  Donna continued for her. “Bok choy spring rolls.”

  “And,” Lisa Leann concluded, “petit fours, coffee, decaf, and tea for dessert. Which, by the way, I have ready in the back.” She stood. “Girls, give me a few minutes; I’ll return momentarily. We’ll talk more about the details and our specific and individual roles in all this.” With a flutter of pressed denim and the muffled shuffle of Ugg boots she was out of the room, leaving the rest of us to stare after her in silence.

  “Do you need any help?” I finally called out.


  “No, no! I’ve got everything under control!”

  Mmm-hmm, I thought. I’ll just bet she thinks she does.

  Donna

  10

  Half-Baked Valentine

  It was the predawn of a Monday morning when I slid to a stop on the ice-glazed highway that wound its way between town and the high school. I was careful not to rear-end the red pickup that had slammed into the guardrail. The slightest shove from my bumper would send the wreckage tumbling over the bluff I called the Ice Gallows, in memory of blue-tarped accident mop-ups that came with visits from the local coroner.

  Under the pulsating red and blue lights of my Bronco, I walked to the truck as the driver powered down his window, revealing the pale face of Charlie Wilson, Summit View High’s star basketball player.

  “Charlie, you okay?” I asked, shining my flashlight into the cab. From my vantage point I could see a bone protruding from his ankle.

  His eyes were round. “I think so, ’cept my ankle hurts.”

  In the distance, I could hear the whine of the local ambulance company. “You just sit tight; the paramedics are on their way.”

  “I gotta get to practice. Coach Dippel’s gonna kill me.”

  “Don’t you worry about Coach. I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re running late.” Realizing the kid was going into shock, I walked back to the cab of my truck to grab the extra bottle of water I always carried for these kinds of emergencies.

  I unscrewed the cap and handed it to Charlie. “Take a couple of sips.” When the ambulance approached, I stepped out into the roadway with my flashlight and waved a warning so the driver would slow down before he too skidded out of control.

  A few moments later David and his partner pulled in beside me. When David hopped out of his truck I tried not to notice how good he looked in his dark blue uniform. As I set up the traffic cones around the accident, I watched as David talked to Charlie about bracing his leg. I could catch enough of the conversation to be impressed; David certainly knew his way around trauma victims. David and his partner Randall Holmes, a teddy bear of a man with a bushy mustache and a wide grin, loaded Charlie into the ambulance while I waved the ever-building traffic past the wreckage. As I stood in the middle of the freeway, I unhooked my cell phone from my belt and pulled Coach’s cell number off my contact list before dialing it.

  “Coach Dippel?” A blast of icy wind cut me in half as I continued to direct the cars. “Ah, Coach, I know you’re busy with practice, but it’s Charlie Wilson. Looks like he broke his leg out here on the highway this morning. They’re transporting him to the hospital now.”

  “Have you reached his parents?” Coach asked.

  “Yeah, just got off the phone with his mom.”

  “Thank you for letting me know, Donna. I’ll touch base with his parents during my lunch break to check on him.”

  “Good idea. Ah . . . Coach, since I have you, how’s Goldie?”

  “I was with her at her dad’s funeral just a couple of days ago, and, well, she’s pretty broken up.”

  “Yeah, I know they were close. Do you know when she’s coming home?”

  “That’s still under discussion. She’s still needed out there in Georgia, but her homecoming can’t happen soon enough for me.”

  It could have been the windchill, but I felt a shiver of relief. I could only hope that the fact Coach missed his wife meant he hadn’t taken advantage of her absence to strike up his old friendship with Charlene Hopefield. At least I hadn’t seen their cars parked at the local tavern or the hotels or anywhere else suspicious. And yes, I had been keeping a watch out—for Goldie’s sake. “Okay, tell her I asked about her; tell her she’s in my prayers.”

  “Will do.”

  I must have smiled as I ended the call because David, who was just shutting the rear ambulance door, gave me a wave and jogged over. “We’re about finished here. See you at Higher Grounds later?”

  “Probably.” I glanced over at the tow truck driver hooking Charlie’s smashed pickup to his winch. “I’ll need to thaw out while I finish up my accident report.”

  David nodded and with a wave went back to the ambulance. He swung open the door and turned back as the glow of the dawn blushed his face. “Catch you later.”

  I watched the ambulance pull away, lights rotating, sirens blaring, and wondered, How could such a nice guy get stuck with my sister?

  I was dying for a cup of fresh hot coffee when I stopped at the local Wal-Mart to pick up the prescription they were holding for me at the service center.

  Though it was sealed in a brown bag with my name on it, I was careful to avoid Velvet’s checkout line. I barely knew the girl and didn’t need her snooping into my business, even if my business only consisted of a prescription for nail fungal cream.

  Once I paid for my purchase, I gave her a glance as I hurried past her cash register on the way out.

  She nodded. “Donna.”

  “Velvet.”

  I exited into the frosty morning, which by this time was bright with pale yellow light that reflected on the snow. I squinted into the glare as I slid my package onto the seat beside me then pulled out of the parking lot for Higher Grounds. Once there, I grabbed my clipboard and headed for the café. Even in the morning sunshine the place glowed from the inside out. As I slipped inside, the bell chimed above my head.

  “Donna! Come sit by me.”

  I saw Clay parked at his usual window seat. He waved. “Back from working that accident?”

  “Yeah.” I pulled off my gloves and rubbed my hands together in an effort to warm up. “Where were you?”

  “I just got the call . . . I’m about to head out to the hospital to see Charlie and then to the wrecker service to see if I can photograph the truck.” He reached for his reporter’s notebook as I sat down across from him. “But first, care to tell me about it?”

  I caught Sally’s eye as I pointed to my coffee cup. She picked up a freshly brewed pot and headed our way.

  “Looks like Charlie Wilson lost control of his truck. Not a big surprise in these wintry conditions. I mean, the snow stopped about midnight, but it’s still icy out.”

  “So, it was black ice that caused the accident?”

  “Yeah, that and the kid might have been in a hurry to get to basketball practice.”

  Clay jotted a few notes. “Tough break.”

  “No kidding. Charlie broke his ankle.”

  Clay groaned. “There go our hopes for the Gold Diggers basketball season.”

  I nodded as Sally poured me a cup. “The special?”

  I nodded again. “Thanks, Sally.”

  “Speaking of news, Clay, I’ve been expecting to read your engagement announcement in the Gold Rush News. I mean, I see you sitting with Britney in church every Sunday, looking very cozy, but where’s the ring you gave her?”

  Clay blushed. “Not to worry. One of the stones was loose, and as soon as we get the ring back from the jewelers, you’ll see our wedding news in the paper.”

  “What I can’t believe is that she’s got you going to church. All I can say is you must really be in love.”

  “Britney’s been helping me with this faith thing,” Clay said, as if this were a simple matter. “I’m starting to see God from a different perspective.”

  “That’s a news flash.”

  He chuckled. “Not to change the subject, but what’s going on with you and Wade these days?”

  The door jingled behind me. “Beats me.”

  “What did ya do for Valentine’s? I took Britney out to the Whales Tail in Breck. Kinda expected to see you and Wade out there strolling the sidewalks in front of one of the restaurants.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No.”

  Clay looked amused and leaned in as he took a sip of his coffee. “So tell me, how’s it going?”

  Images of Valentine’s Day swam before me.

  Me dressed in new jeans and a red turtleneck, Wade at my door with a huge bouquet of red carnations a
nd baby’s breath.

  “They’re beautiful.” I felt the soft petals against my face as I breathed in their fragrance.

  Wade stood at the door as tiny snowflakes waltzed behind him in a halo of porch light. “You look great.”

  I looked back at the man I had loved a lifetime earlier. The ravages of alcoholism had not taken the little-boy shine out of his eyes. I could only thank God he’d found his way back to sobriety, at least so far.

  I almost giggled. “Why do you make me feel like I’m eighteen?” I asked as he stepped inside.

  “Do I?” he asked.

  I had just started to turn toward the kitchen to grab a vase when his arms caught me and pulled me to him, tucking my head just beneath his chin. He nuzzled his face in my hair.

  “Funny, you feel eighteen to me too.”

  I laughed as I turned to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I sealed the knot with the bouquet.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked, my ear pressed against his heart.

  He pushed me far enough away so he could look down at me. “Nervous? About?”

  “Taking me to your mom’s house for dinner.”

  He stepped back, turning to shut the door as he pulled off his denim jacket. He tossed it across the back of a chair.

  “Mom? Well, she’s not, she . . .”

  “She’s not what?”

  “Having us for dinner after all.”

  “But, you said . . .”

  Wade sat down on my rust-colored couch. “Donna, she’s just not ready, for us.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “But, you said you’d talk to her, that you’d work things out.”

  Wade stood. “It’s not like I’m asking you to date my mother.”

  I folded my arms and walked to the window that overlooked the two trucks side by side in my driveway. It was just warm enough that the dancing snow instantly melted as it landed on the windshields.

  Wade walked toward me and gently touched my shoulders.

  “Donna?”

  I shrugged off his touch.

  “Donna, why is my mother’s approval so important to you?”

  I continued to stare into the darkness. “How can we ever find happiness if your family hates me?”