The Secret's in the Sauce (25 page)
I pushed my chair back. “Velvet, I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you, but—”
“I never dreamed my big sis would go after my boyfriend.”
I stood up just as my cell phone rang. I welcomed the distraction and said to Velvet, “Sorry, I’m still on duty. This could be an emergency.” I picked up. “Hello?”
It was Wade. “Donna, Pete and I are in Vonnie’s driveway. I thought I’d drop by to fix the loose basement step I noticed last time I was there, but I’d hate to interrupt.”
“Ah, Wade, hi.”
“So is Vonnie even there?”
“I’m sure she’ll be home shortly,” I said.
“Then, it’s just you and David? Alone?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then you don’t mind if we come in?”
“No,” I said. Wade must have already been climbing the front steps because he tapped on the door. David answered his knock. But by that time, Velvet had worked herself into a full rage. She bellowed, “Well, Donna, here’s a couple more of your boyfriends.”
“Hello, Wade, Pete,” I said as the two stepped inside, their eyes round at Velvet’s performance.
“What’s going on in here?” Wade asked no one in particular.
Mrs. Swenson answered. “David and Donna are having a date.”
Wade’s eyes shot to me. “Is that so?”
“No, no, I’m on duty.”
“Yes, they are,” Mrs. Swenson replied, in full glee. “They’re having a lunch date.”
David stood by silently while Velvet continued to rage. “I’m so outta here.”
She flounced toward the door and brushed past Pete and Wade. Wade asked, “Velvet, you don’t have a car, do you?”
“I took the town shuttle, though I didn’t know my little trip would be so educational.”
“I’m thinking it’s time we left too.” Wade turned to Velvet. “Need a lift?”
Velvet glared back at me. “I do. You know, Donna, you can’t have every man in town. Why don’t you make up your mind so the rest of us will know who’s available?”
“Well put,” Mrs. Swenson chirped. “Velvet, Wade, you know where the door is, and while you’re at it, take that boy with you. I don’t babysit, you know.”
And with that, our trio of visitors disappeared. I walked to the front door and watched Wade as he helped my sobbing sister into the cab of his truck, with Pete squeezed in between them. I turned around and looked up at David. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”
David, who looked a bit shell-shocked, slowly closed the door. “I’ll call later to check on her. But, aren’t you going after Wade?”
I shook my head. “I’ll call him later, to explain.”
David turned his full attention on me. “And just how will you explain?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. How will you explain to Velvet? I mean, it doesn’t seem to me you’re being very fair to her.”
Before he could reply, Mrs. Swenson cackled. “Fair? Velvet crashed your date. And from the way Velvet left with Wade, those two are an item, but then, so are you and David.”
David smiled apologetically for Mrs. Swenson’s remarks. “Donna, I know this is awkward. But maybe we should consider the possibilities just presented to us.”
I took my dish to the sink and rinsed it. “You mean the possibility of an ‘us’?”
I turned to face David, and he nodded. “Why not?”
“David, I don’t know. I mean, Velvet is your girl, not me. Plus, we’re friends. Good friends, but we’ve never dated, unless you count the time you took me to lunch and proposed marriage.”
David smiled. “I only started dating Velvet when I thought I’d lost my chance with you. Velvet’s a sweet girl, but she’s just not my type. I’ve been trying to break it off with her for the past few weeks, but I’ve been having trouble getting through to her.”
“Congratulations, I think you just resolved that little problem.”
David frowned. “I’m sorry she got hurt and I’m sorry you were there.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Still, the question remains; do you think there’s still a chance for us?”
“This is awkward, David.”
“I know. The timing stinks.” His brown eyes softened. “But if you agree to go out with me, I promise not to pop the question.”
I had to laugh at that. “I don’t know.” I suddenly felt exhausted from the extra hours of my shift. I looked at my watch, then stood and headed for the front door. “I gotta get back to work. So, ah, let’s talk about it later.”
David blocked my path and stared down at me. “Why not answer my question now?”
I looked up and hesitated. “It’s just that I don’t know what to say.”
Hope filled his smile. “Say yes.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, and against my better judgment said, “Okay . . . yes.” But before he could respond, I turned and hurried down the front steps and opened the door of my Bronco. I paused for a moment and looked back. “Call me tonight, okay?
I gotta run.”
I could see David grinning from the front door as Mrs. Swenson hobbled up next to him. He draped an arm around her shoulder
and gave her a celebratory squeeze.
I waved before backing out of the driveway, feeling more than a little confused. Twenty minutes later, as part of my patrol route, I pulled into the Higher Grounds trailer park. Sure enough, Wade’s truck was still parked in front of my mother’s and Velvet’s trailer. I felt my forehead brake hard into my hairline as I frowned. How
nice for Velvet to have a friend to console her.
I slowly drove past Wade’s trailer and pulled back onto Main Street. Well, Wade and Velvet were neighbors, after all. And I suppose it was natural for them to hang out. Why was it I so hated the thought of that? But there was no need to fret. Soon my shift would be over, and I’d get a good afternoon’s sleep. Then maybe I could figure out why Wade had kept me in a state of limbo for fourteen years. Could it be that David could finally break me free of his lady-in-waiting spell?
Perhaps David and I were supposed to get together. Maybe this was the answer to Wade’s prayer, and God was guiding me in a whole new direction, a direction I had yet to kiss.
Vernon and I had invited Fred and Vonnie to have lunch with us at Higher Grounds Café after church on Sunday afternoon. I’m not sure who suggested it first, but to be sure it was probably done more so to keep us from being alone with each other one minute more than we had to be than to give Fred and Vonnie the muchneeded break from her mother, who would be taken care of by David for a few hours.
Since the Saturday before, when Donna and I had our little “falling out,” Vernon and I had lived in a thin layer of tension I had not yet experienced in my adult life. I’ve had friends and family a little miffed with me from time to time, or vice versa, but I never had to sleep in the same bed with them at the end of the day.
When I’d returned home the previous Saturday I was met by one very upset man standing in the foyer of our home, arms crossed, legs braced apart. I shrugged out of my coat with a “What? You too?”
“Evie, you shouldn’t have gone to the tavern,” he said. “Surely you know that. Donna’s a grown woman. She can handle her feelings
concerning her mother.”
I stared at him. “Did you talk to her?” I hung my coat on the coat tree and stormed past him. “Did you?”
He emitted what sounded like a chuckle, but for the sake of our new marriage, I didn’t turn around to see if my suspicions were true.
“I did.” He was right behind me on my way to the kitchen, where I began to prepare a pot of coffee. In spite of my hot anger, the very marrow of my bones was freezing.
“And? Did you set her straight? Did you put her on the right track where Doreen is concerned? Explain a few things your daughter obviously missed concerning her mother over the past twenty-some-odd years?” I scooped coffee into the filter with such vigor that little black grounds went flying along the counter and then skipped to the floor. “Now look what she’s made me do,” I mumbled,
reaching for a nearby dishcloth.
Vernon leaned against the door frame of the dining room entryway and again crossed his arms. “Oh yeah, I see her now. Standing
right there beside you, bumping your elbow . . .”
I jerked my head up and glared at him until he physically straightened, furrowed his brow, and left my presence.
It had been pretty much like that ever since.
At Higher Grounds Vernon and I managed to pretend that everything was okay in Honeymoon Land as we all four dined on Sally’s famous meatloaf sandwich with curly fries, though Vernon had ordered onion rings with his. It wasn’t until Vonnie and I went to the ladies’ room that I, seeing that we were alone in the spacious and nicely decorated washroom (complete with music from overhead),
turned to her and said, “Got a minute?”
“What?” Her hand was on the silver handle of the stall door.
“I need to talk.” I walked over to one of the two white wicker armchairs sitting in the far corner of the room. A short white wicker table, adorned only by a lit and fragrant incense burner atop it, was between them. I nearly collapsed into the nearest chair.
“And I need to . . . you know . . . go . . .”
Vonnie was too much a lady to say the word, and that made me smile, probably my first real smile in over a week. I crossed my legs and placed my purse on the little table. Having seen a news segment about what’s on the floor of a public restroom, I’d vowed never to place my purse on one again, even if I had to hold the strap with my teeth. “Give me your purse. I’ll hold it for you.”
“Don’t you have to . . . go?” Vonnie asked, reaching me.
“No.” I took her purse, and she crossed the room again. “I didn’t come here to . . . go. I came in here to talk.”
“Have it your way, then.” She entered the stall. “What’s so important we have to talk in a public bathroom of all places, Evangeline?” she asked from the other side of the door.
“I need advice from someone who’s been married for a while.” I scanned the room, taking in the slight inconsistencies of the wallpaper. Whoever had hung it had missed a few places in matching the pattern. I hoped Sally hadn’t paid them too much, whoever they were.
“Oh, dear,” Vonnie called back.
The toilet flushed, and within moments she exited the stall and went to the sink to wash her hands. I noted her method for doing so was still left over from her days as a nurse. Wash thoroughly, rinse from the wrist (or elbow if your sleeve so allows) down, and then turn off the water with a bump of the elbow.
She shook her hands free of excess water, reached for a paper towel, dried her hands, and then joined me in the nearby chair.
I glanced at the six-paneled white door to our left. “Let’s just hope no one comes in while we are talking.”
“Won’t we look a sight?” It wasn’t really a question. “Now, Evangeline. Tell me what’s going on.”
I frowned. “Vonnie . . . how long did it take you . . . after you’d married . . . until you . . .” I trailed off. I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to say what was on my mind.
Before I could get my thoughts together, Vonnie reached over and patted my hand. “I see.”
“You see? You see what?”
Placing her hands properly in her lap she said, “You’re having problems getting used to the more . . . intimate side of your marriage.”
I felt my lips draw to a straight line. “The what?”
“Sex, Evangeline.”
Maybe Vonnie wasn’t the one I should have come to. “I know what intimate means, Vonnie. And, no, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, good.”
“What I’m talking about—”
“So everything is okay in that department?”
“What department?”
“The bedroom. I know it can take some getting used to, especially after being single for so long.” She nodded at me, and for a moment I wondered if my best friend had suddenly become Dr. Ruth. “And I’ve been a little concerned about you, though I certainly didn’t want to ask.”
“I, uh . . .”
“Now with Fred it wasn’t so much a big deal. After all, I’d been married before. Of course I didn’t want him to know that, so I had to pretend to be a virgin . . .”
I raised my brow. “How do you pretend to be a virgin?”
Vonnie blushed. “Well, you know . . . I acted very . . . you know . . . shy and prudish.”
Quite frankly, I couldn’t imagine her any other way, even after a multitude of years living and loving with Fred. “Vonnie, I’m not talking about sex.”
Vonnie straightened her shoulders. “Oh. What are you talking about then?”
“Well, I’m not even sure how to say this. Okay, last week, after the meeting, I went to the tavern to see Doreen.”
“Oh, Evie, you shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s neither here nor there.”
“You really have to stay out of this or you are going to cause problems between you and Donna.” Her eyes widened. “Not to mention you and Vernon.”
“It has caused problems. But not because I went to see Doreen . . . so much. But because Donna saw me having words with her mother.”
About that time the door opened. Vonnie and I remained quiet while the woman—obviously a resort visitor by her clothing, which was too Hollywood ski country than true high country—took her turn in the restroom. When she’d washed her hands—never once looking at us throughout the entire episode of being there—she left, swinging the door shut behind her.
“Evangeline, what is going on? If you don’t hurry up and talk, the men will be in here thinking we’ve been flushed down the toilets.”
I shifted a little in the chair. “Maybe we should talk later.”
“Maybe we should talk now.” She pointed her index finger toward her knee.
“Okay,” I said, blowing out a pent-up breath. “Here’s the thing. Vernon and I have hardly spoken all week.”
“Why?”
“Because he hasn’t set his daughter straight, that’s why.”
Vonnie chuckled. “What do you expect him to do?”
I struggled for an answer, but when it came it was a good one. “He should arrest Doreen or Dee Dee or whatever she’s calling herself and Velvet for impersonating a mother and daughter, that’s what. Doreen—Dee Dee—may have given birth to Donna, but she’s not acting much like a mother, if you ask me. And that Velvet James can just go back to whatever Podunk she was born in.”