The Secret's in the Sauce (11 page)

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 and 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?”

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 clicked 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.