I could see the reflection of Wade’s face in the window as he started to reach for me again, but he hesitated. “I . . .” He hung his head.
I angrily flicked away a stray tear that had dared to betray my hurt. “Then just go.”
“But Donna.”
I turned and looked up at him. “Go home to your mother.”
He stepped toward me, but before he could recapture me with his embrace, I tossed the flowers into the kitchen trash can, flounced to the coat closet, grabbed my jacket, and bolted to my Bronco before roaring it into reverse and down the drive.
Wade stood in my doorway, watching as the snowflakes dropped an ever-widening veil between us.
Trouble was, I didn’t know where to go. I’d have gone to Vonnie’s, but I wasn’t so sure her mother liked me either. So I just drove the streets as if I were on patrol, looking for an answer while I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.
I just wasn’t strong enough for rejection from yet another mother. Why am I so unworthy of maternal love?
It was after midnight by the time I returned home to a dark and empty house.
I went to the trash can and gathered my flowers, gingerly stroking some of the broken stems before placing the bouquet in a vase of water. How could I love a man who couldn’t face his mother like an adult? But maybe the question really wasn’t how could I love him, but why.
Two weeks later, I was sitting in Higher Grounds blinking back my Valentine’s memory as Clay waited for me to say something. Thing was, I didn’t want to say that I hadn’t heard from Wade since that night.
I shrugged. “Things are a little rocky between us.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say he stood me up for our Valentine’s dinner and leave it at that.”
“Wade stood you up?” a voice from behind me asked.
I turned to see David.
I shooed him away. “Mind your own business.”
David laughed and walked toward the counter, where he sat down. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he called over his shoulder.
I shook my head then turned back to Clay. “See what you’ve done? You’ve gone and started rumors about me.”
Clay held up his hands in mock defense. “But, Donna, don’t you . . .” His phone rang, and he looked to see who called. “Gotta take this.”
I hate it when other people’s cell phones interrupt my conversations with them.
Clay actually pinked. “Britney,” he gushed. “Good morning to you too . . . Nothing . . . Breakfast at the café is all . . . Uh-hum.”
I tried not to roll my eyes as I imagined Britney flirting with Clay on the other end of the phone line. But I’ll admit, a small part of me wished I could act like that instead of my old angry self. Then maybe I wouldn’t have “relationship problems.”
I tried not to stare as Clay suddenly stood to his feet. “I’m on my way now, sweetie. I miss you too.” He ended the call. “Donna, gotta run.” Clay made a quick wave, then he was gone. I took another sip of my coffee as Sally plopped a steaming plate of eggs florentine in front of me.
I unrolled my silverware from my napkin before digging in.
Whoa. Too hot.
I sipped from the glass of ice water, and while I waited for my eggs to cool, I reached for my clipboard so I could jot down some of my observations on the accident report.
I looked up to see David standing before me, holding a plate of pancakes. “Can I join you?” he asked. “I thought maybe we could go over some of our notes from the crash.”
I pointed to Clay’s abandoned seat as Sally whisked away the remains of Clay’s breakfast.
I looked up from my clipboard and took a bite of my breakfast. “Help yourself.” David waited while Sally wiped away Clay’s coffee ring with her sponge, then he sat down.
“You handled yourself pretty well out there, Deputy.”
I looked up. “All in the line of duty. How was Charlie when you got him to the hospital?”
His chuckle was low. “He was okay, but his mom wasn’t.”
“Yeah, Louie’s a bit of a drama queen.”
“Too bad about Charlie’s ankle. I hear he’s the local basketball star.”
I nodded. “That’s a dangerous curve. It could have been a lot worse.”
David nodded then took a bite of his pancake while I continued scratching out my report.
He watched me for a while then asked, “So you broke up with Wade?”
I looked up and frowned before returning to my writing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He took another bite of his pancakes and stared at me. “Okay.”
When I finally finished, he’d already pushed his plate to the side. He leaned toward me on his elbows. “Deputy, just know that I’m here for you.”
I felt my eyebrows arch. “What?”
The door jingled and David leaned closer, but before he could say anything more, I asked, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“She’s not you.”
“That’s not the way I see it. Seems to me like you’ve pretty much got someone who looks exactly like me.”
“Looks like you, yes. But she’s not you.” He chuckled. “She doesn’t even come close, not that I’d want you to repeat that.”
“Consider the vault locked on that one.” I stood. “I’ve gotta get this report filed.” I picked up my clipboard and turned and almost stepped into Wade.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said.
“Hi. I, ah . . .”
But before I could blurt out anything more, Wade turned around and left the way he’d come.
I tossed a bill on the table, grabbed my jacket, and hurried after him, only to see his truck pull into the morning traffic of Main Street.
He didn’t even look back.
I walked to my Bronco, opened the door, and slid inside, noticing the brown bag on the seat next to me.
I patted it. I deserved to be alone, I decided. Just me and my little secrets.
Lisa Leann
11
Spicy Shocker
I’d just poured a fresh cup of coffee into one of my favorite rosebudcovered ceramic mugs and sat down to log on to my online service. I took a sip and smiled as an email from Mandy caught my eye. It had attachments, which I hoped meant baby pictures!
I clicked the email open.
Hi, Mom. How did you keep the surprise baby shower Sandy threw for me a secret???
I felt my brows furrow. That’s easy. Nobody told me, I answered as I continued to read.
When Sandy invited the baby and me to the Green Beanery for lunch, what a surprise to find all my friends there. But I have to admit, I was even more surprised you weren’t there. But Sandy said you couldn’t come. So I’ve attached a few pictures for you to enjoy.
For Pete’s sake, it sounded like Mandy’s mother-in-law used the pretense of “keeping a secret from Mandy” to keep the secret from me, knowing I’d try to keep the peace between myself, my daughter, and her mother-in-law even when I learned of her deception.
I opened the attachment to see what I’d missed.
Ah. There was my baby, Mandy, looking as cute as a bug’s ear, dressed in a pale peach cable-knit sweater that complemented her strawberry curls. Her bright brown eyes sparkled as her lightly freckled cheek pressed against the sleeping face of my grandbaby, Kyle Christopher Richardson. Kyle, looking adorable, was wrapped in the pale lavender-blue blanket sweet Vonnie had crocheted for him.
How precious. I put my hand above my heart before opening the next picture.
I studied a redhead dressed in a shimmery bronze outfit, right off the cover of my latest Chico’s catalogue. Lilly Lorraine Appleton, my baby sister. I shook my head. You mean to tell me that Lilly was invited and didn’t call to tell me to come? Ugh.
She must have fallen under Sandy’s spell, which meant I was going to have to put “call Lilly and complain” at the top of my day’s to-do list.
I click
ed open the next picture, and my ruffled feathers instantly smoothed. How sweet. There was little Kyle Christopher held tight in Mandy’s arms. He was awake now, balanced on her blanketcovered shoulder, as if he were admiring the pile of presents on the center of the table.
My heart sang to see that little face. As I blinked back tears of delight, the sad face of Goldie unexpectedly floated into my mind, intruding into my joy. I took another sip of coffee and leaned back into my office chair and reached for my Bible. “Aw, Goldie,” I said to no one but the Lord. I flipped to Ecclesiastes 3:4 and read, “A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.”
I stared at the words on the page and continued to talk to the Lord. “That’s the way of things. Goldie’s grief coincides with my joy.”
There was nothing to do but bow my head and pray for her. I mean, why else had the Lord suddenly brought her to my thoughts?
When I finished, I typed Mandy a quick message.
Loved the pictures. Say hi to Aunt Lilly. Hope to see you soon. Mom
I put my hand on the mouse and opened my Aunt Ellen Explains Everything file, a popular column I write for the local Gold Rush News.
It was fun being anonymous, though the Potluckers all knew I was “the Auntie,” as I liked to call her. Writing the column was a hoot, though I occasionally got into trouble when any of the Potluckers happened to recognize themselves in my letters. But strangely enough, it happened less often than one would think.
Now that the column was such a success, I actually had letters I could answer, but on a slow letter day I resorted to answering a letter of my own design, like today . . .
To come up with a letter, I think of a friend with an issue that I’d like to address.
As I thought, Evangeline danced into my imagination. I thought about her latest power play at the Catering Club meeting. Poor dear, if she could but trust me, we’d be better friends. I smiled and started typing first the question:
Dear Aunt Ellen,
I have a friend I’d like to get closer to, but I don’t know how.We’ve had our share of misunderstandings, but now that she’s reaching out to me I’m not sure how to respond. Do I trust her? I mean, I hesitate because my mother always told me, “Never drop your gun to hug a grizzly.”
But what if my friend isn’t a grizzly? How do I know for sure?
Signed,
A Friend?
I smiled to myself. Now for the answer:
Dear Friend,
Why not take a chance? If your friend’s reaching out to you, well, why don’t you reach back to her and find out if she’s really a teddy bear? Misunderstandings are exactly that, misunderstandings. It’s possible your friend never meant to hurt you. So, put the misunderstanding aside to see if your friendship grows.
Bear hugs,
Aunt Ellen
I saved the letter then attached it to an email to Clay. “Here’s the rest of my column,” I typed then paused as I thought about how I should word what I wanted to say next. My fingers sprang to action. “Now, you know I’m not the pushy sort, but I do hope you’ll let me coordinate your wedding. You will, won’t you, Clay?—With love, Lisa Leann.”
I hit send.
Of course Clay would let me coordinate his wedding, that was a given. I just had to be sure he understood he had no choice. So, not only did I have the Britney/Clay wedding wrapped up, I had a lot of other leads. The fact I’d held up a sign about my wedding services during a live broadcast of the TV show Hollywood Nightly had certainly helped business. The TV crew had been in town because of reports that David Harris, whose adopted mother had been Hollywood royalty, was in town getting himself engaged to our own Donna Vesey. The rumor had proved false, but still I’d gotten a lot of national exposure. Not only that, but my new column in the Gold Rush News had actually sparked quite a few romances across Summit View, since it often touted advice to the area’s lonely hearts. In fact, a couple from the singles class I taught at church, Allen and Becky, were coming in at four o’clock to sign a contract for my wedding services.
Of course, I was also keeping my eye on Donna and Wade, who I now knew had more than a little history between them. Surely I’d land that contract too, considering Donna would get a discount as she was part owner of the catering company.
The phone rang.
“Hello, Lisa Leann?”
It was Beverly. “Hi, Beverly, how are you this beautiful Friday morning?” I asked.
“Good, but I have news.”
“Oh?”
“This shower for Michelle, we’ve decided to change the location.”
“Really?”
“The church setting would have been nice, but we’ve decided to move the party down to Breck to the Mountain Bell Tower Resort, mainly to accommodate the invitation list, which grows bigger by the minute. Plus, this way we can serve cocktails.”
I was surprised. “I thought you’d decided against cocktails.”
“Well, some on the committee are insisting.”
“I see.” I wondered how Vonnie would take the news. I kept a smile in my voice. “So the venue will be at the Mountain Bell Tower Resort?”
“Have you seen their facility?” Beverly asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, then, how about meeting me over there for lunch?”
“A lovely idea. About noon?”
“See you then.”
I hung up the phone then stood up and stretched. Goodness. The day was getting away from me and here I was still in my fuzzy pink robe. I looked at my list of things to do and noted that I’d have to call Lilly later. It was time to get to the shop. I had some calls and orders to make before lunch, and I had to get moving.
A few hours later, after taking care of business down at the boutique, I put the “will return” sign in my shop window but not before moving the hands of the plastic clock to two o’clock. I locked the front door then hurried out the back to my awaiting Lincoln.
After I buckled myself in and started the ignition, I put my Bluetooth in my ear and dialed my sister. I got her answering machine, which twanged, “Hi, this is Lilly Lorraine. Sorry I missed your call but leave me a message. BEEP.”
“Lilly Loraine, just got the pictures from the shower, but I could see someone was missing. Me! Why didn’t you tell me about it? You got some explaining to do, sister.”
I hung up and pulled out of the parking lot. I took a deep breath. Lilly would call me later. For now, I’d concentrate on my drive to Breck.
Once I pulled out of the upper valley Summit View’s located in, I enjoyed the scenic downhill drive. I’ve always said there was no grander drive anywhere, at least not with such gorgeous drop-offs and heart-stopping views. My favorite spot was the switchback that faced the Breckenridge ski slopes and looked down upon the town of Breckenridge itself. The snow, of course, made it picture perfect. White majestic mountains, bright blue sky.
I love snow. It reminds me that God’s love covers our sins. That especially appeals to me, a woman who moved across the country to start a whole new life. I turned up K-LOVE on my radio and listened to Out of Eden sing “Every Move I Make.”
How appropriate, Lord, I prayed. I’m making all my moves in you. Thanks for the confirmation.
Soon enough I was pulling into the parking lot at the resort. As I scampered across the snow-glazed parking lot, I passed a car that looked familiar. A cream-colored Lexus with a caramel interior. I noted its Texas plates caked with icy sludge and felt a shiver run down my spine.
Though I knew this car couldn’t be the one I remembered from back home, the memory jolted me just the same. I guess what they say is true. No matter where you move, guilt has a way of following.
I shot off another prayer, one I’m sure I’d prayed a million times already. Lord, I’m sorry for the past; you know I am. And I know you’ve forgiven me. At least, I know I should know.
I sighed at the emptiness I felt. Will I ever be free? I wondered.
&
nbsp; I grabbed the handrail and walked up the metal mesh steps, holding tight just in case the heels of my camel boots slipped on the ice deposits left by the snow boots that had gone before.
I reached for the brass handle of the resort’s front door and swung it open, revealing a world of latte-colored marble that glowed across the floor of the upscale lobby. The added illusion was that everything—furniture, drapes, pottery, decorative tassels and throw pillow fringe—was dipped in gold. A wide garnet-red Oriental rug nestled in front of a roaring fire inviting one to step out of the cold and defrost in front of the dancing flames. As I stepped through the door and past the potted trees that lined the entrance, my cell phone rang. I checked and saw Lilly’s name. I stepped to the side and took the call.
“Lisa Leann, I had no idea you didn’t know about Mandy’s shower. Oh, will you ever forgive me?”
I smiled because I just can’t help but enjoy a good apology. “Next time, you’ll call, right?”
“Right. But I wish you could have been there. You should have seen all the lovely presents. Besides, you’d have died for a slice of that cake. I ate two pieces and now I feel as fat as the town hog.”
I spotted Beverly waiting for me on one of the jacquard-print ivory couches that was tucked into a nook not far from the fireplace.
“Lisa Leann!” she called as she stood and waved.
I finished my phone chat. “Gotta go. I’ll catch you later this afternoon. Okay?”
We hung up, and I hurried toward Beverly. As always, she looked charming. As a bank executive’s wife, she didn’t have that “I don’t believe in wearing makeup or cold cream” look that seemed to prematurely wrinkle the faces of many of these high-country women.
In fact, Beverly’s face glowed with a well-blended palette of pigments that blushed her cheeks and lips and highlighted the coppery browns of her eyes as well as the tastefully chosen auburn of her fringe of short but stylish hair.
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