Recipes for Disaster (18 page)

I should have figured Catherine would keep me waiting, but come on—two whole hours?

I’ve been relegated to a hard bench in Lion Lair’s two-story foyer. Every now and then the frantic flock of Catherine’s minions will scurry by, or a servant will tiptoe down the hall. In any regard, I am ignored, as if I’m part of the ugly flocked wallpaper.

I’m here long enough to pick up on the sounds unique to a house: the creak of footsteps overhead; the whisper of drapes fluttering against an open window—

Or a woman’s sob.

Babette
.

I slip upstairs, following the sound. 

She is sitting in the master suite, on the tuffet in front of her vanity mirror, her head bowed. 

I stand there at a loss for words. Despite our intertwined paths and the friendship between Trisha and Janie, we’ve never been friends, let alone close confidants. That alone is reason enough to turn and leave—

“Donna … please don’t go.” Her request comes out in a whisper.

I walk back in and sit down on the bed; she turns to face me. “Tell me the truth. Is he having an affair?”

“He … who?”

“Lee, of course! Please be honest with me.”

“Babette, I … I hope you don’t think that I …”

Her eyes harden. “I said be honest.”

“There is nothing going on between Lee and me.”

She stares, incredulous. 

The next thing I know, she’s laughing hysterically. 

What the hell?

“Oh, Donna! You can be such a clown! Granted, yes, I needed a good laugh, but I was being dead serious.”

Seriously dead? Don’t tempt me. 

I force my hands to my sides. “Babette, I was being candid. Your husband and I are just friends.”

She shrugs. “I know that, silly! Lee wouldn’t be caught dead—Oh! Don’t be angry! What I meant to say is that you’re just not his type.”

“Oh?” Ha! If only she knew.

Heck, if only I knew. The man is a conundrum.

“I meant Catherine. You’re her bodyguard, so you should know. Are they having an affair?”

“Hell, no! She’s running for the presidency, for God’s sake! The woman barely has time to take a pee, no less have a quickie in some VA Hall john.”

She frowns. “You know, we’d be better friends if you weren’t so vulgar.”

Well then, thank goodness for my potty mouth.

“Besides,” she continues, I think you’re wrong. I saw him sneak her that special cell phone—”

“Wait … a cell phone? Was it hot pink?”

She nods. “So you do know!”

“I know she carries one that color, but it couldn’t be … well. What I mean is, perhaps it has to do with campaign business. He’s in charge of fundraising and vetting her VP candidates. Maybe he’s afraid word will get out as to whom she’ll be choosing.”

“My God, you are out of the loop, aren’t you?” she smirks. “Ah, well, never mind. Sorry I bothered you. You’re excused.” She dismisses me with a wave.

Does she catch the bird I throw her way, through the vanity mirror? Of course not. She’s too busy admiring her perfect profile, thanks to the best plastic surgeons money can buy.

Well, at least the next time I see Robert, I can put his mind at ease as to who’s at the other end of the phone.

Lee is standing at the bottom of the stairs. He wags a finger at me. “Catherine has been waiting at least ten minutes.”

“Hello to you, too,” I say sweetly. “Sometime into the second hour, I got bored of waiting for her highness, so I thought I’d look up the lady of the house and pay my respects.”

“Very kind of you.” He frowns. “She’s feeling neglected these days.”

“I’ve got an inkling as to what might remedy that.”

“A shopping spree?”

“You know your wife like a book.”

“And from what I hear, you know the Martins almost as well.”

I shrug. “People change with time.” 

He nods toward the library. “I think that’s what Catherine is looking to hear from you. Why don’t you assuage our candidate’s worst fears?”

I nod, and head for the door.

The only one who can do that for her is Robert.

Something tells me she already knows this.

“Why did you do it?” Catherine knows I’m here, but she doesn’t even turn around.

“My mother’s recipe may have gotten you a blue ribbon at the county fair, and the Tip Top Teen USA title, and a scholarship, but it will not get you the presidency of the United States.”

She whips around. “You made me a national laughingstock.”

“You’re a mature adult; you’ll get over it. I was a kid. It took a little longer.”

“Ah, so you admit it! You’re still holding a grudge because Robert was in love with me, not you.”

“You’re nuts! I had a schoolgirl crush, that’s all.”

“Then why did you drive off with him today?”

“He and Evan asked for a lift. What was I supposed to do, say no?”

She starts to speak, but changes her mind. Instead she proffers a limp hand and a mirthless smile. “Bravo. You’ve moved on. If you’re truthful about that, I’ll keep you on—for old times’ sake.”

I bite my tongue before I say something I’ll regret, like 
don’t do me any favors
, or 
kiss my ass
, or 
he’s leaving you ha ha booyah and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Instead, I remember the most important lesson my mother taught me:

I am a lady, at all times.

Had Mother known what Catherine did to us, I’m sure she would have approved of a quick kick to the gut. I guess I’ll never know.

As I walk out the door, the dim buzz of a cell can be heard. Catherine blushes; then, with a nod of her head, I’m dismissed. 

Through a mirror hung over a Louis XIV bombe chest, I watch as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a hot pink cell phone. “Yes I can talk,” she mutters.

Heck, if Lee wanted to reach her, why didn’t he just knock and come in?

I have my answer when I reach the front door. He’s standing right there, conferring with Lydia about all the calls that needed to be made by Catherine while she was scolding me.

Or talking to whomever.

Maybe Robert is right after all.

Mary knocks on my bedroom door and waits for me to beckon her with a hand slathered with my night cream.

She holds something behind her back, and she’s been crying.

Before I can say a word, she crawls into my lap for a hug.

As I pat her gently with the dry hand, I ask, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she sniffles. “I hadn’t realized that CeeCee was such a bitch!”

“CeeCee? You mean, Congresswoman—”

“I read your diary.” She looks down at her feet. “Forgive me, please! I know it’s an invasion of your privacy, but when I moved the box Aunt Phyllis left on the window seat to the floor, it toppled over, and the diary fell out. I thought it was cute, and I didn’t think you’d mind, so I opened it.”

Mary must be talking about the diary my mother gave me for my eleventh birthday. Mother had hoped I’d record all our wonderful mother-daughter adventures. Instead, I wrote about heartache, shame and death.

The poems seething of anger came later.

For at least a year, Bobby was on every page.

 The squeeze of her hand reminds me that there are still more adventures to come: with her if not with Mother. And with Jack instead of Bobby. “You loved him, didn’t you—Bobby, I mean?”

It takes me awhile to admit it, with a nod. “Yes—that is, I thought so, at the time.” I shrug. “He was older, and he was kind to me. And your grandmother was dying, so thinking about him took me to another place that was certainly more enjoyable.”

Mary leans her head on my chest. "CeeCee was so mean to you—and so jealous!”

“She was afraid of losing him. He was her world. When people are scared, they need someone to blame. They create monsters.” 

“Like Erin, with Babs,” she murmurs. “I can’t stand by and let them hurt her anymore.”

“I know she’d be there for you, if the shoe were on the other foot.”

She rises and heads for the door. “Mom, will you drive us to school tomorrow—all of us, Babs, too?”

“Of course.”

“And would you mind if Babs and Wendy come home with me tomorrow?”

“Not at all.”

“Great! That way, they’ll meet Evan before he leaves—” 

“What? No, Evan will be with his mother and father at Disneyland.”

“Not after what I read him just now, in your diary!”

“Mary—you didn’t! ... Did you?”

“Mom, he’s already got his mother pegged, believe me. Sadly, it didn’t surprise him.”

Poor Evan. 

Poor me.

Chapter 13

Photo-Op

Short for "photo opportunity," an event staged specifically for news cameras to help a politician appear on the evening news or in morning papers. Usually, they say the exact same phrases, with the same inflections in their voices, with a smile on their faces.

They do this because they figure if you hear their malarkey enough times, you’ll actually believe it. What they don’t realize is that when you have children, every tall tale in the book has already been told to you, with even more practiced innocence than any number of photo ops will allow. So the next time you read or hear about a political photo op, do what you do when your kids come to you with a whopper: 

Tune out, turn off, and tell off.

Your family will be saying “cheese” with big smiles when they bite into this:

Cheesy Hash

(Recipe from Sheila L. Du Brutz, Harrah, Oklahoma)

Ingredients

1 package of frozen hash brown southern style square potatoes

1/2 cup of butter

1 pint of sour cream

2 cups of cheese

Directions

1: Melt butter in big pot, add sour cream, potatoes and cheese.  Mix thoroughly. 

2:Put in baking dish in oven at 375 degrees for 45 minutes. 

3: Add more cheese to top it before serving, if you like.

Catherine has made it very clear to Ryan that I’m not supposed to broach the apple pie recipe again with her, under any circumstances. 

And apparently she’s livid that I had the nerve to mention it to, quote, that daughter of mine—who, in turn, has now turned her son against her, unquote.

Apparently Evan has asked her to ’fess up and apologize to 
me
. Of course, she refuses. She says it’s my word against hers “that any of that malarkey even happened.” 

He says he’ll settle for her allowing Mary to be his guest at Disneyland.

She’s agreed to this option. I guess the only thing saving him from being banished from the campaign trail is that Catherine is more afraid of what her teenager will say or do when he’s off her radar.

Join the club. 

So that she has at least one adoring child at her side while the cameras are clicking away, she’s invited Janie, Lee and Babette to join her. However, it annoys her that Janie is joined at the hip with Trisha. Then again, she must figure that having two children under the age of ten in the photo op burnishes her image as a youthful candidate who is concerned with children’s issues because she finally breaks down and says yes to Janie’s request.