The Secret's in the Sauce

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  She gave me a quick hug and led me up a couple of steps toward the great hall.

  “You’re going to love this place.” She let go to spread her arm in a wide gesture. “Before we dine, let me take you by the conference room we’re going to use for the reception.”

  I followed her down the hallway to a large open room half set with round tables. Several hotel employees were rolling brown tables in place before popping their legs out, setting them up, and covering them with white tablecloths.

  Beverly gestured again. “These walls open up to make a bigger room.” I nodded as she continued. “They have a lot of corporate and conference events here. From the look of things, there’s some sort of banquet here tonight.”

  I turned and saw the back of a man with dark wavy hair and wearing a dark navy suit duck out and into the hallway. From the back, it looked exactly like . . .

  No!

  I steadied myself and turned to Beverly. “What’s the name of the sales manager you’re working with?”

  “He was right here a minute ago.” She looked around. “Now, where’d he go?”

  I felt as if I was having a hot flash, though I took a deep breath, keeping my voice smooth as silk. “His name?” I asked.

  “Let’s see, where’d I put his card?” Beverly dug through her designer black Fendi handbag with the most adorable gold lock. I made a mental note to check it out at the Fendi website when I got home. “Here it is.” She handed it to me.

  My eyes darted from the name on the card back to Bev’s face as if she owed me an explanation.

  She tried to oblige. “He’s new. Fresh from Texas.” She chuckled. “Hey, maybe you two were neighbors.”

  Neighbors? I remembered to close my mouth. After all, I couldn’t make a public spectacle. Though doing so crossed my mind. My unease was contagious because Beverly continued to look around, as if she felt alarmed that he was missing. It didn’t take long before the object of her hunt waltzed through the open door.

  Beverly looked relieved and motioned him over. “Oh, here he is now. Lisa Leann, I’d like you to meet Clark Wilkes.”

  I tried not to die on that thick forest green carpet of the banquet hall. I suppose I could have run. I suppose I could have slapped him. But I decided to play it cool. “Hello.”

  “Believe we’ve met, good to see you again, Lisa Leann,” Clark was saying as he reached for my hand. His dark chocolate eyes glinted fire. As he stared down at me he caressed the back of my hand with a slow circular rub of this thumb.

  I felt a flame rush up my neck and into my face. I was definitely having a hot flash.

  Clark looked satisfied, as if his eyes had delved into my soul and read a secret I wanted to keep.

  I broke the moment by looking down at his shoes, a shiny pair of black lace-up Versaces. I looked up again and put on the performance of my life. “Really? I don’t recall you. Though I hear you, like me, are from Texas. I’m wondering if we’ve visited some of the same country clubs, been invited to some of the same parties . . .” I pulled my hand from his and resisted the urge to wipe it off.

  He just stood there and grinned, his brown eyes glinting beneath his long black eyelashes. I wanted to roll my eyes and sing “You’re So Vain.” But I didn’t dare, mainly because Beverly didn’t need to witness anything more than she’d already seen.

  Beverly interrupted my thoughts. “Shall we go to lunch?” she was asking. At least, that’s what I think she was saying, since I was finding it hard to focus.

  “Maybe I’m mistaken,” Clark was saying. “It’s just that you look like someone I used to know.”

  He’d said the word know with such intimate intonation.

  Though I was having trouble breathing, I let a peal of polite laughter ring out. “I guess everyone has a double.”

  He looked amused and folded his arms across his chest. “And a history. I’d love to catch up on yours.”

  Beverly, who had been watching the exchange, looked shocked at such a comment. I tried to force another laugh. “How sweet. But my Henry doesn’t allow me to share histories with other men.” I stepped back and looked at my watch and turned to Beverly. “What time was our reservation?”

  “About now.” Beverly waved good-bye to Clark as we left the ballroom. “I’ll call you later.” Once in the safety of the hallway, she giggled a conspiratorial whisper into my ear. “No wonder you started a dating service. You seem to be able to zero in on the lovelorn with amazing accuracy. And here I had no idea the man was even single.”

  “He’s not.”

  She stopped dead and looked at me. “I thought you said you didn’t know him?”

  I pointed at my diamond ring. “Didn’t you see his wedding ring? He’s married, all right.”

  Beverly laughed as I followed her to our awaiting table. She looked back over her shoulder. “And obviously on the prowl.”

  When we sat down at the table, I reached for the ice water the busboy had just finished pouring for me and took a swig.

  “Are you okay?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I feel as if one of my migraines is coming on.”

  “That’s too bad. My sister gets those too.”

  “I haven’t had one in a while, not since I left Houston.”

  “Maybe your migraines are related to allergies,” Beverly was saying as she scanned the entrees.

  Yeah, I thought to myself. I am allergic to something, all right, or should I say, someone.

  Beverly was studying the menu. “This thyme roasted chicken with vegetables looks good.”

  I tried to focus. “I think I’ll have the same.”

  Beverly reached into her purse and pulled out a brochure and handed it to me. “I wanted to thank you for recommending these bartenders for our cash bar.”

  I took the brochure in hand and stared at it, realizing the bartenders were none other than Velvet and Dee Dee, Donna’s blood relatives.

  “I recommended them?”

  “They said so.” She hesitated. “Didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not saying they wouldn’t be good, it’s just I’ve never worked with them.”

  Beverly frowned. “Then maybe I misunderstood.”

  Misunderstood, my eye, I thought, wondering how devious this mother and daughter pair might really be.

  “What will you ladies have?” a cute blonde with a slicked-back ponytail asked as she pulled a pen and order pad out of the pocket of her black pants.

  She jotted notes as Beverly gave her the order.

  “And to drink?”

  “Iced tea.” I turned to look at the brochure in my hand. If I could make my mind focus, maybe I could figure out what this bartender thing was about.

  But for now, I needed to sit and try not to bolt out of this resort, this town, and this state. Maybe what I really needed to do was hightail it to Houston and hug my grandbaby for a few days.

  It might be the safest thing to do, at least under the circumstances.

  My cell rang again. I checked the number; it simply said “Clark.” I frowned. Somehow I’d sworn I’d taken his name out of my directory.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  I turned off my phone. “I can let this go to message.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”

  The waitress brought me my tea, and I took a big sip as Beverly watched with one eyebrow cocked higher than the other.

  Does she suspect?

  I smiled as sincerely as I could. “Just a hot flash. Now, where were we? Any more thoughts on what you want printed on the party napkins?”

  Vonnie

  12

  In a Crunch

  I felt like I was embraced in a clumsy dance as I pulled a seven-foottall artificial tree up my front steps then slid it across the thin layer of snow on my porch. Its outstretched branches, made from a real tree limb, grabbed at me as it waved green fabric leaves into my face and hair. I squinted at the a
ssault and kept tugging backward. I had to lift the plant in its cement-filled planter, just a bit, to clear the threshold. I felt the weight of it topple toward me and took a couple of steps inside the house to keep my balance.

  Through the leaves that tickled my face, I could catch a glimpse of my mother still sitting in my husband’s pickup truck, which I’d borrowed for the day. I stopped to catch my breath and caught a glint of sunlight on the car’s passenger window as it lowered, revealing Mother’s pruned face. Here she goes again, I thought, bracing myself for yet another round of complaints. But in this frigid air, I could not only hear her grievances but I could see them rise in a vapor cloud that dissipated somewhere above her head.

  She whined, “This is the limit. How long are you going to keep me sitting here? Vonnie, I want to go to my room.”

  As I was still standing in the doorway, with only the tree between us, I parted the leaves with my hands so she could see my face. “I’ll be there in a minute, Mother.”

  I clumped the tree to its place alongside the wall to join the mini-forest I had accumulated from Wal-Mart.

  I rolled my eyes. How in heaven’s name did I let Lisa Leann talk me into picking up more money trees for Michelle’s shower?

  “They’re half price today only,” she’d said on our early morning phone call. “If you could pick them up, I’ll drop by later tonight and help you decorate them with lights and clips to hold the money.”

  I was always glad to save a buck, so I said, “Sure, but will we have enough?”

  “I already have half a dozen in my garage and that in addition to the hotel’s greenery and my fine decorating skills, and I think we’ll be good to go.”

  But now that I’d been at this for hours, with several repeat trips, the few bucks we were saving didn’t seem so important. No wonder Mother was cross.

  “Vonnie!”

  “Mother, I tried to talk you into staying home this last trip. Besides, it’s almost one o’clock and time for your doctor’s appointment.”

  “Aren’t we going to have lunch first?”

  “We’ll have cream of potato soup when we get home.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Can’t you go at the doctor’s office?”

  “Absolutely not. Help me inside, please.”

  I finished pushing the tree into its spot by the doll-adorned fireplace and tried to stand up straight, a process that proved no easy task. I put a hand on my back and arched out the kinks. “Coming, Mother.”

  I hurried down to her only to make the trip up the steps once more, but this time as a crutch.

  I felt my mother’s grip tighten on my arm as she sucked in her breath.

  I looked down on her head of white hair. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Just hurts a bit is all.”

  By the time I got her to the bathroom door I was sure I’d have a permanent purple handprint on my upper arm.

  I couldn’t wait till the doctor removed that awful cast off Mother’s ankle; then we’d all be a lot happier as Mother would finally go home with Dad.

  I couldn’t help but wince. Poor Dad. Though it was hard to feel too sorry for him because he was the one who’d dumped Mother on me in the first place.

  In truth, I was still angry with her for the distant past. Plus her constant whining and complaining had done nothing to soften my heart. I’d only honored her with my caregiving because I’d felt it was my duty. After all, the Word says we’re supposed to honor our parents, so I was trying, really trying. But knowing the end was in sight made my “trying circumstance” bearable.

  I looked at my watch. It was almost one. What was taking so long in there?

  I knocked on the door. “Mother? We’re going to be late.”

  No answer, though I heard the swoosh of the plumbing. I knocked on the door again. “Mother?”

  A faint voice called out from behind the door. “Vonnie?”

  I sighed. “What is it, Mother?”

  “I can’t get up.”

  I felt a wave of exasperation. “What do you mean, you can’t get up?”

  “I need help.”

  For goodness sake. I tried the doorknob. Locked. I rapped on the door with my knuckles. “You locked the door.”

  Her voice sounded tired. “Don’t you have a key?”

  “Yes, Mother. Just a second.”

  I rushed to my catchall drawer in the kitchen. I pulled it out and dumped it on the table while pens, pencils, and even an old marble rolled onto the floor. What remained in the large pile were old sugar packets, paperclips, rubber bands, a wad of string, my stapler, a collection of coins, and a hodgepodge of keys.

  I picked up the proper key and rushed back to the bathroom door. “I’m back.”

  “What took you so long?”

  I ignored the question and unlocked the door. It opened into a tiny, yellow-painted room. The sink was backsplashed in yellow tile printed with inky blue designs of flowers. There Mother sat, prim and proper on the white porcelain toilet bowl.

  “What seems to be the trouble?” I asked.

  “I told you, I can’t get up.”

  I tried to pull her up by her elbow, but she winced. “That’s not working.”

  In the limited space I tried another tactic. I stood in front of her and took her hands in mine and tugged.

  “Please stop,” she cried at last. I sat down, exhausted, on the worn, white rug, which covered the hardwood floor. “Your ankle hurts that much?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, what do you want me to do?”

  “What do you think? Get me off of this thing.”

  I stood up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To call the paramedics.”

  Mother was aghast. “You can’t do that! They’d see me.”

  “Then I’ll call David. He’s a paramedic, he worked last night, and I know he’s off duty this afternoon. He’ll come over.”

  “No! I just won’t have it.”

  “Mother, I’ll get you a blanket and you can put it over your lap. He won’t see anything. Don’t you think that would work?”

  She considered it for a moment. “I guess that would be okay.”

  I dialed David’s number and he answered on the first ring. I could tell I’d awakened him. “Hello?”

  “David, it’s my mother; I need your help.”

  His voice perked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I know this sounds silly, but I can’t get her off the toilet. I mean, she can’t stand up.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He hung up before I could explain further.

  A few minutes later, his black Mazda 3 pulled up, and I hurried to meet him at the front porch.

  Though his tennis shoes were untied, he bounded toward me, dressed in a pair of frayed jeans and an old gray sweatshirt. The word Raiders was barely legible beneath his unzipped parka. He was clutching a well-worn paramedic’s kit.

  I led the way to the bathroom, where Miss Priss looked as if she had just summoned a gentleman to tea. Her pink blanket covered her lap, making her white top look like the top of a flowing ball gown. “Hello, David.”

  “Gram.” He knelt on one knee and reached for her hand to take her pulse. “How are you this afternoon?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He let go of her hand and asked with gentle intensity, “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I can’t get up,” she answered as if she was talking to a thickheaded schoolboy.

  David took her grumpiness in stride. “But why, Gram? Why can’t you get up?”

  She pointed to the cast on her ankle. “It hurts too much.”

  “Where?”

  She pointed to her leg, just above the cast. “It won’t take my weight.”

  “Can I see?”

  She smiled then, like a shy schoolgirl, and shifted the pink blanket off her ankle. David gently touched her leg.

  “Ouch.”

  He stood up and pu
lled me into the hallway. “Mom, her leg’s pretty swollen. Has she fallen?”

  I shook my head. “No. At least, not that she’s told me.”

  “I’m thinking she might have a secondary fracture.”

  I think I gasped, but David’s eyes held mine with that same gentleness he’d used with my mother. He was saying, “Now, we can call the fire department or I can help you get her to the car. What do you think?”

  “I’m not deaf,” Mother scolded from the bathroom. “And I’ll not sit here while the whole of Summit View comes to gawk.”

  David walked back to the bathroom door and told her, “Okay, then do you think you can help me?”

  “I can try.”

  “I’m going to bend over, and when I do I want you to put your arms around my neck. Then when I stand straight, I’m going to pull you up with me.”

  “That won’t work, and I won’t do it.”

  “Why not, Mother?” I asked.

  She sighed heavily, like she thought I was an idiot. “I’ll be exposed.”

  “What if I shut my eyes?” David asked.

  “And I pulled up your slacks?” I added.

  Mother hesitated. “Don’t announce that out loud. Someone might hear you.”

  I put my hand on my hip. “Mother, honestly. No one is here but us.”

  Mother sat straighter as if trying to muster every ounce of dignity she possessed. “Well, I suppose we could try.”

  We all got into position, with David grasping Mother beneath her armpits. “On the count of three,” David said. “One, two . . . three!”

  Like a well-oiled machine, we had Mother standing and dressed in the same moment.

  David helped her hobble out of the bathroom, then scooped her in his arms and carried her to my car while I grabbed my purse.

  “I’m assuming we’re heading for the hospital?” David said.

  I looked at my watch. “No, I was trying to get her to her doctor’s appointment when this happened. She’s an hour late, but we always wait at least that. Go ahead and get her into the truck while I call to see what the doctor wants to do.”

  A few minutes later, we were heading for the doctor’s office with David trailing behind us in his car. Both David and I pulled into the circular driveway by the front door, and he jumped out to get Mother’s folding wheelchair out of the back of the pickup. Once we got her seated, he wheeled her into Dr. Galloway’s office.