Instead, her entrance brought another level to the conversation. “Lisa Leann, we gotta talk.” Her cheeks appeared to be flushed by something other than the cold air, which had rushed in with her.
Lisa Leann’s bright blue eyes widened. “What did I do?”
Donna held up a copy of the Gold Rush News. “Are you or are you not Aunt Ellen?”
Lisa Leann beamed. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“You mean that new column in the paper?” Evie said. “That ‘Ask Aunt Ellen’ or whatever it’s called?”
“Ask who?” Vonnie asked.
“Oh, I read that; it’s cute,” Goldie said.
“It’s cute because you weren’t the brunt of the letters,” Donna said, waving the paper about.
“For your information,” Lisa Leann said, “it’s ‘Aunt Ellen Explains Everything,’ not”—she turned to Evie—“‘Ask Aunt Ellen.’”
“Whatever it is, it’s caused havoc in my life. Not to mention Vonnie’s,” Donna said.
“Me?” Vonnie slid up a bit to the edge of the sofa. “What about me?”
Donna shoved the paper toward Vonnie, nearly cutting off my nose in the process. “Be careful with that thing,” I said, drawing back.
Vonnie took the paper and read for a moment, then looked up at Lisa Leann. “Lisa Leann, how could you?” she said quietly.
“Am I in the dark about something?” Evie asked.
“You usually are,”
Donna retorted. “Donna,” Vonnie said. “Stop it, now.”
“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?” Goldie said, standing.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Donna answered, marching about the room, then pointing toward Lisa Leann. “This woman right here—this woman who calls herself our friend, no less—has printed some bogus advice column for the lovelorn. I cannot begin to tell you how many men have been calling me, asking me out on a date. For the last time: I am not interested!” Donna actually managed to stomp a little jig.
“What does this have to do with you and Vonnie?” I asked. Vonnie looked at Lisa Leann. “The letters from Joe. How did you find out?”
Donna grimaced. “I’m afraid I might have said something, Vonnie. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, dear.” She smiled weakly. “Fred’s been awful quiet since the last News came out. I think I now know why.” She stood. “I’d best get home and try to work on some damage control.” She looked at Evie. “I’m sorry, Evie. I can’t stay.” She walked over and patted Evie on the arm. “But we should talk later, okay? Friend to friend?”
Evie only nodded.
“You can’t stay for prayer?” I asked. “Even for a minute?” I couldn’t believe how badly our Potluck meeting was going. Couldn’t believe it at all. Evangeline’s breakup with Vernon was only slightly less a catastrophe than her dating Bob Burnett. Goldie was obviously not moving forward in her reconciliation attempts with Jack. Donna was peeved with Lisa Leann—not that I much blamed her—which meant she was now at odds with not one but two members of our six-member group. Vonnie, who had endured more in the past few months than many women experience in a lifetime, was hurting once again.
And me? I had a son who needed to go home to his wife and his children, a son who was more than a little too happy to be back in the house of his childhood.
Like I said, for the Potluck Club, trouble had most definitely been brewing.
I drove home in silence, having turned off even the evangelical teaching tapes I typically enjoy. There was too much to think about—to pray about—seeing as the Potluck ended in disaster.
Lisa Leann had thrown up her hands and said, “Well, I can’t seem to do anything right around here, so I may as well just leave.” Then she left in a huff.
Goldie had glanced at her watch, muttered something like, “Maybe I have enough time … if I hurry …” and slipped out as well. Donna then turned on Evangeline, I suppose waiting for the majority of us to leave what had begun to feel like a crime scene.
“And as for you, Miss Benson. I hope you’re happy. My father is crying in his soup every night. Have you no compassion? I mean, come on. I thought you were at least fond of the man.”
Evie turned blazing eyes on Donna. “Fond of the man? I love your father. At least I did. Not anymore. I can’t love a man I can’t trust.”
“Can’t trust? Lady, if you can’t trust my father, you can’t trust anyone.” She shook her head a bit before adding, “What amazes me is that you think you can trust Bob Burnett.”
Evie placed her hands on her hips. “My relationship with Bob Burnett is, quite frankly, none of your business, Donna Vesey. So, I’ll thank you to keep your little nose out of it.”
“As long as my father’s feelings are at stake, this is most assuredly my business. Daddy’s an absolute mess. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen him like this.”
Evie began to pace around the room, blowing out candles and turning off the stereo while I pushed myself as far back into the sofa as possible. Inwardly I prayed that maybe, just maybe, it would swallow me whole and I’d end up in some other small town … like Wonderland.
“You know,” Evie said, stopping in her tracks, “I would have thought you’d be pleased that your father and I aren’t dating anymore. After all, you’ve hardly been my biggest fan.”
Donna crossed her arms and cocked her hip out. I found it hard not to smile. Donna Vesey is a cute girl anyway, but rile her up and she’s just downright adorable, especially in jeans and a sweatshirt. For a fleeting moment I wondered why a girl like her had never married, never found that perfect someone. Of course, way back when Donna and my older children were in school, she’d been the sweetheart of Wade Gage, but like most high school romances, theirs had faded as they got older. Then it struck me that Wade had never married either. How odd.
“I’ll tell you what, Evangeline,” Donna now said. “I would be happy about the breakup. I would. And quite frankly, I don’t care if you date Bob Burnett and the entire deacon board from Grace. But when I see my father hurting … over someone like you …” She ran her fingers through her blond curls. “I gotta go. I gotta get out of here. I’ve probably got a mountain of emails asking me out and at least a half dozen phone calls from lovesick puppies to listen to.” She pointed her finger toward the fireplace, where Lisa Leann had been standing. “So help me, if that woman so much as goes one mile over the speed limit, I’m gonna write her a ticket so big she’ll have to sell her bridal boutique to pay it off.”
That left just Evangeline and me. It seemed it took her a good minute to even realize I was in the room. “Want to eat something?” she asked, moving ever so slowly to her chair. When she’d sat, she said, “We’ve got a tableful of food in there, since no one took anything home.” Evie’s voice was weak and defeated.
“Oh, Evangeline,” I said. “It’s going to be all right. We all go through these times.”
“You know, I’d do anything in the world for that girl, but she just wouldn’t let me.” Tears began to course down her cheeks; she didn’t bother to brush them away. “Never has, and I guess she never will.”
“Evie,” I said softly, “have you ever noticed how much she looks like her mother?”
“Oh, believe me, yes.”
“Do you think that’s a bit of a deterrent for you? I think that if I were in your shoes, it would be difficult for me.”
“No, I don’t think so … well, maybe. I don’t know. Sometimes I think that because she looks so much like her mother she finds it difficult to like me. That, because of the resemblance, she owes it to Doreen, somehow, to stand against me, seeing as Doreen and I were such enemies for so long.”
I crossed one leg over the other. “I wonder whatever happened to Doreen.”
Evie shrugged. “She and the old choir director probably ran off to California, where Doreen tried her hand at being an actress. She would have failed, of course, and eventually she would have left him too.” She
snorted in a very unladylike way. “She’s probably been married four or five times by now. Maybe even had a few more kids, though doubtful from the same father. Poor Donna doesn’t even know her own siblings.”
“Evie,” I said with a chuckle. “You can be so funny.”
“You know it’s true. There was never a more unstable woman than Doreen Vesey.”
I didn’t respond for a moment. Instead I looked down at my fingertips, studied my nails that badly needed a manicure. When I looked back to Evie, I noticed the tears were really beginning to pour. I slipped off the sofa and dropped to my knees before her, extending my arms to hold her in a friend’s embrace. When I did, she leaned into them. “Oh, Lizzie. Lizzie. I loved him so much.”
“What happened, Evangeline?” I asked, pulling back.
“He’s still in love with Doreen, that’s what.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I saw him … saw him looking … pining … over her photograph. One he’s no doubt had for years. In my heart I just know what he was doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Comparing me to her. I can never be as pretty as she was … never sing like she did … never … I don’t know … kiss like she did.”
I felt myself blush. “Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, “seeing as I’ve never kissed either one of you.” I smiled, and she giggled. “Evie, tell me about you and Bob Burnett.”
“There’s nothing. He’s just … he’s a nice enough man, Lizzie. We have a pretty good time. But …”
“He’s not Vernon?”
“No. He’s not Vernon.” The tears began again. “Still, I can’t fault him for trying. I could do a lot worse—like live alone the rest of my life.”
“I think we need to pray.” I fell back on the soles of my feet, clutching my hands in my lap. “What do you say?”
“I agree.”
And we did. We prayed for the individual needs of the group and then for the group itself, Evie reminding God that this was his Potluck Club, not hers. It was the first time I’d ever heard such as that coming from her mouth, but I thought it appropriate. We also prayed for Tim and Samantha, asking God to move and move quickly. Though, I added, I trusted his timing.
He’d never been wrong before, and I was sure he wasn’t about to let me down now.
When I arrived home I had my casserole dish and Lisa Leann’s cake in hand. Samuel met me at the door.
“What in the world is that?” he asked, taking the cake from me. “You ladies weren’t hungry enough today?”
I followed him into the kitchen. “We ladies didn’t eat today.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Uh-oh. What happened?” He placed the cake on the counter, then reached for the casserole.
I sighed, handed him the uneaten dish, and said, “I’ll make a winter’s salad, and we’ll have dinner off of this.”
“Sounds good. But what happened at the meeting?”
I paused, taking time to consider how to answer his question. I then let out a laugh, then another and another until I was in an all-out giggle. I laughed so hard tears rolled down my cheeks. When I finally was able to compose myself, I sighed deeply and said, “Goodness, I needed that.”
Samuel stood dumbfounded. “So, that’s it? You aren’t going to tell me?”
“Honey, it would be impossible to explain,” I said, walking over to him and wrapping my arms around his neck. I pressed myself up against him and kissed him. “But I’d like to thank you.”
“For?” he asked with a glint in his eye.
“For … just … being … normal.” I gave him a quick kiss between each word.
It was his turn to chuckle. “I do my best.”
It was then that I heard music coming from the downstairs bedroom our son inhabited. “Tim’s here, I take it?”
“Mmm. And, by the way, there will just be two of us for dinner tonight.”
I drew back, my arms resting on my husband’s shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“Michelle has a date, some new fellow from work named Adam.”
“But what about Tim?”
Samuel pulled my arms from his shoulders. “You’re not going to like this.”
“Tell me.”
“He has a date too.”
“What?” I threw up my hands. “Has the whole world gone mad?”
“Lizzie, lower your voice.”
I took several deliberate steps toward the downstairs. “I will not. And I will not stand by and let this happen.” I turned and looked at Samuel. “Did you say anything to him? Did you?”
Samuel nodded. “I told him I couldn’t approve of this, of course. But he’s a grown man, Lizzie, and he has to make his own mistakes. We can’t press down too heavily, or he’ll only push back all the more.”
I shook my head. “I have landed in the twilight zone. I asked for Wonderland, and I got the twilight zone.”
I sprinted down the stairs and the short hallway to Tim’s bedroom door, which was closed. I knocked loudly enough to wake both the living and the dead. When Tim answered the door, I saw that he was wrapped in a towel from the waist down and that his hair was spiked from a recent shower. “Mom,” he said, stepping back into the room.
I pointed my index finger at him as I entered. “We need to talk. We can either do it here and now with you half dressed or we can do it upstairs at the kitchen table after you’ve had a chance to dress.”
He extended his arms. “Say what you’ve got to say.”
“Tim Prattle, I didn’t raise you to do such as this.”
“Such as what?” My son actually had the audacity to look confused.
I heard Samuel come up behind me, and I turned enough to see him leaning into the door frame. “Don’t play coy, son,” he said.
“Listen, you two. It’s not like you think. It’s just dinner with a nice girl from work. What’s the harm in that?”
“You are a married man!” I stomped my foot, reminding myself of Donna earlier in the day. “What part of the wedding vows confused you?” I nodded my head back toward his father. “I’m sure your father can go over them again with you if need be.”
“Mom, I know I’m married. I’m not sleeping with the girl, I’m just taking her to dinner.”
“Do not speak disrespectfully to me, Tim Prattle.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. But, seriously, I’m just taking her to dinner.”
“Just taking her to dinner,” I repeated. “Where?”
Tim shrugged. “I thought we’d try the Whale’s Tail over in Breckenridge.”
“Son—” I heard Samuel say.
“The Whale’s Tail? You’ll spend at least a hundred dollars there,” I reminded him.
“If I’m lucky,” he muttered, drawing the towel tighter at the ends.
I turned to Samuel. “Do something,” I pleaded. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
My eyes widened. “Men. Oh, my gosh. Men.” I looked at Tim again. “Tell me this. What if you found out that Samantha was having dinner with some other man at the Whale’s Tail? How would you feel?”
Tim paused before he answered. “Look, Mom. This is really between Samantha and me. Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but it’s starting to get a little chilly in here—and I don’t just mean the temperature. So …” He gestured toward the door.
“Come on, Lizzie,” Samuel said. “The boy’s going to do what he’s going to do.”
Tim took a step forward. “I’m a man, Dad. Not a boy.”
“Do tell,” Samuel said, then shook his head and walked away.
I sighed. “I think your father said it just perfectly.” I lowered my eyes. “I’m disappointed in you, Tim. I really am. And I’ve never been disappointed in you before.”
“Really? Not even when I was in college and got Samantha pregnant?”
I shook my head. “Not even then. I was scared for you, yes. And sorry things happened out of their timing … but God takes all things that
were meant for evil and turns them into good. This time … this time I’m disappointed. You have a wife and two precious children. Don’t throw it away.” I pressed my lips together, then left the room and climbed the steps to see Samuel sitting at the kitchen table, eating a piece of Lisa Leann’s cake.
“This is pretty good,” he said.
I shook my head at the wonder of it all. One of these days, I’m sure, I’ll understand men and how they can shift from disaster to delectable in so short a time. But right then I was about as perplexed as they come.
I walked over to the counter, where the cut-into cake sat exposed. “I’m going to take the majority of this back to Lisa Leann.”
“Why didn’t she take her own cake home?” he asked with a mouthful.
I reached for the cake knife and said, “She just didn’t.” I sliced off a hunk—enough for Samuel and me—then placed it on a plate and wrapped it in aluminum foil. I recovered Lisa Leann’s plate and picked it up. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
When I arrived at Lisa Leann’s, I gripped the plate and walked toward the door, being careful not to slip in the snow that had turned icy. She opened the door with a look of genuine surprise. “I saw you drive up,” she said. “What do you have there?”
“I’m bringing you back your cake.” I smiled. “What’s left of it, anyway. Samuel took a slice before I left, and I cut enough for our dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
Lisa Leann stepped back and offered me entry into her home. “I don’t mind. I hope y’all like it. So I guess the meeting fell apart after I left, huh?”
I smiled grimly. “It did. But it’ll be okay.” I extended the plate to her, and she took it. I looked around. “I know I’ve said this before, Lisa Leann, but you have a lovely home,” I said, though I was as taken aback by it as I had been the first time I’d entered it for Leigh’s baby shower. Who would have pegged Lisa Leann’s luxury condo to have wall-to-wall white carpeting and Victorian antiques upholstered in pink velvet? The chandelier in front of the beveled glass entryway was a nice touch, even impressive, but it was all a bit much for my simple tastes.
“Come on in and let me introduce you to Mandy,” Lisa Leann said. “She’s resting on the sofa, watching Notting Hill. I just love that movie, don’t you?”
Trouble's Brewing Page 16