The Secret's in the Sauce (26 page)
Vonnie looked truly horrified. “Evangeline, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“They have practically sabotaged my marriage, Vonnie.”
“I thought Donna did.”
“Don’t split hairs.”
“I’m not splitting hairs.”
“See, that’s the problem, it’s all the little things. Ever since last Saturday, all I can see is that Vernon squeezes the toothpaste tube from the center and that he plays the TV too loud and that he can actually watch Home Shopping Network for hours on end.”
“Who can’t?”
“‘The Coin Show’?” I asked, then lay back in the chair and splayed my arms and legs as though I were dying.
Vonnie burst out laughing. “Evie, you are too funny. Sit up and listen to me.”
I obeyed, but only because Vonnie has been married for so long. And, to the same man. She was surely to have valuable advice.
“Whatever happened last Saturday is over and done with. When it comes to arguments with your husband, you need to keep your focus on the hills you truly want to die on. And let me tell you, whatever little tirade you had with Donna is not worth it. It’s just not worth the fight. Furthermore—and really pay attention to me here, Evie—Donna is Vernon’s daughter. And she is Doreen’s.”
“Doreen prefers to be called Dee Dee,” I corrected her, remembering how Doreen had corrected me at the tavern, though why I was placating her was beyond me.
“I don’t care if she prefers to be called the queen of England, she is and always will be Donna’s mother. You must understand that. And, even though she left Vernon all alone to raise that poor sweet girl, to him she will always be the mother of his child. His only child. Listen to me, Evie. I know what I’m talking about here. It’s been quite the strain on Fred and me since my birth child came to this town looking for me. But Fred’s been smart enough to realize that David is my flesh and blood. And that he always will be.”
Vonnie made good sense. I mulled it over before asking, “So then, what do we do about the bridal shower? About Doreen—Dee Dee—and Velvet bartending it?”
“We let them. The best thing you can do right now is to do nothing at all. Either their business venture will fail or it will succeed, but either way it won’t be because of something you did or didn’t do.”
I stood up. “Mmm-hmm.”
“In the meantime,” Vonnie said, standing with me and reaching for her purse, “you keep the fires burning at home with your honey of a hubby.” She winked at me. “There’s no little fuss or fight that a little lovemaking can’t handle.”
“Why, Vonnie Westbrook,” I said, grabbing my purse and smiling. “Sometimes you floor me.” When she giggled, I added, “And I don’t floor easily.”
Men!
I inwardly groaned to myself as I lifted the head of my industrial-strength mixer out of the stainless steel mixing bowl. I scraped the excess dough off the beaters with my spatula while I silently replayed my latest phone conversation with Clark, my third one this morning.
“Who’s girl are you?” he flirted just as Henry brushed past me on his way to meet the UPS guy at the back door.
I gritted my teeth as soon as I thought Henry was out of earshot. “Not yours.” Before Clark could say more, I’d hung up.
What nerve!
I sighed. Clark felt entitled to call me at will, simply because I had to work with him on the Prattle bridal shower, which unfortunately was to be held at his hotel. Talk about unfair. But Clark was playing this fiasco to his full advantage. Which made me wonder,
Does he really think that following me to Colorado will change the fact we’re over?
I bit my lip. Not only was our affair over, it should have never been. Yes, I was ashamed of what had happened. Yes, I regretted my foolishness. But now, despite my efforts to leave the affair behind me, the risk of discovery was greater than ever. I had so much to lose—my husband first and foremost, not to mention the respect of my family and any and everyone who’d ever known me. If this thing got out, it would give the gossips from Houston to Summit View enough fuel to wag their tongues until doomsday. I could hear them now: “Did you hear about Lisa Leann Lambert and Clark Wilkes? Shameful! Having an affair that started in the church choir. Can you imagine that? Think of Henry, think of Jane!”
I sucked in my breath. How could I have justified this? I’d sinned against both God and my husband. If news of this got out, I’d have to move to Alaska and find a deserted igloo to hide in. Then again, maybe Dee Dee McGurk would let me stay with her in her trailer. I bet we had more in common than most folks knew.
With Henry helping me at the shop this morning, Clark’s frequent calls had been more than troublesome. They’d been dangerous. It was ironic, really. There was my unsuspecting Henry in his jeans and denim work shirt, carefully wrapping my dishwasherfresh serving bowls with protective plastic wrap for their upcoming venture to Breckenridge. While Henry worked, I’d been trying to cook while playing cat and mouse with Clark via the phone. If Henry could have heard Clark’s side of the conversations, he’d probably divorce me on the spot.
Using my spatula, I shoveled the thick cheesy dough out of the mixing bowl and onto the wax paper I’d spread on the stainless steel countertop.
At least I’d soon be able to check this job off my long list of today’s “must do’s.” Patting and pulling the dough, I stuffed large globs of it into freezer bags. How glad I was Vonnie had promised to come in the Friday before the shower and hand squeeze the dough into long cheese sticks so we could bake them. At this point, I was going to need every pair of hands I could get. It was already Tuesday of the week before the shower, and the girls were all scheduled to drop by to work their job assignments from now until showtime.
Henry stepped into my kitchen from the back room, carrying yet another tray of plastic-wrapped bowls. “Where do you want these?”
“Put them in the shelves in the storage closet.”
“Do you want me to wrap the plates?”
“No, we’re renting the china and silverware from the hotel.”
“Good girl. That will save you some cleanup.”
“Yeah, but we’ll soon have to invest in our own service of fine china if we’re going to be competitive.”
Henry chuckled. “Hope you make lots of money on this gig then; you’re going to need it.”
“Yeah, there are a few hidden expenses I hadn’t counted on,” I said with a sigh. “Though I’m glad I shelled out for that catering software package. It’s an organizational whiz, and it’s helping me avoid some nasty surprises.”
Henry shook his head back and forth like he felt sorry for us. “Well, so much for our relaxing retirement years in the mountains.” He turned to go to the back room, which we’d outfitted as a workroom. He hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “Say, I think I’ll saw up that PVC pipe you want to use as leg extenders for your work stations.”
I smiled. “Good idea. Raising the table legs will surely save on our old backs. Can’t have my crew at the chiropractor’s after each event.”
I continued to divide the dough, thinking about all the expenses of running a catering service. Yeah, the girls and I knew what we were up against, but I was counting on my sharp business mind and their cheap supply of labor to make way to a great bottom line. Henry reappeared. “Forgot my toolbox,” he said as he looked around the kitchen.
“It’s on the floor, to the left of the refrigerator.”
Henry strode over to the box and bent over to pick it up, revealing a tiny circle of baldness in the crown of his gray hair.
I turned to grab the ringing phone. I put on my hands-free headset and picked up.
It was Clark again. “Lisa Leann, how are things coming together?”
I was terse. “Fine.”
“Anything you need from me or the hotel?”
I walked to the freezer and stuffed the dough onto one of the upper trays. “Everything’s under control.”
“I called to check and see if you had enough help for the night of the event. I could rent you some wait staff.”
I slammed the freezer door and took a deep breath. “I’ve got Grace’s singles department to cover and
Henry.
” I emphasized Henry’s name in a slow drawl. “He’ll be there too,” I said, hoping his name would protect me from Clark’s continued pursuit.
A snicker played through my headset. “Really? That’s not what I heard.”
I sat down on the pink vinyl-padded stool and clicked my nails on the built-in writing desk. “I assure you, you heard wrong.” I smoothed my hand against the lap of my pink apron. “Henry wouldn’t dream of being anywhere but with me.”
Clark chuckled again. “You mean, he’d even miss the annual youth mission trip with the First Church of the Woodlands?”
“Of course he would, he . . .” Suddenly my heart landed in my stomach with a sickening thud.
“Are you still there?”
My voice sounded an octave too high. “What have you gone and done?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just the church back home was so desperate for some more sponsors that when they called and begged me to go, I suggested they call good old Henry. After all, he hasn’t missed a trip to that Mexican orphanage in ten years, now has he? I’m sure you remember the week he left us alone last year. With him gone we didn’t even have to rent a hotel room.”
I closed my eyes and frowned. “I’m sure he’ll say no to that trip.”
Clark laughed again. “You mean he hasn’t told you yet?”
I stomped to the sink, squirting a couple of drops of liquid soap into my hands then turning on the warm water to rinse them. My words were slow. “Told me what?” I asked as I dried my hands on a dish towel.
“I heard they called him last night while you were working at the shop, and he said yes.”
I could hear Henry sawing in the back room.
“You wish! Ah . . . gotta run.”
“We’ll talk soon,” Clark practically sang.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
I clicked out of the call and hung my headset on the wall hook then walked to the back room. I found my husband with a length of PVC pipe stretched across a pair of sawhorses. The walls of the workroom were surrounded by Vonnie’s forest of money trees decorated with gold and silver clips that were ready for all the cash envelopes and gift cards.
Henry was wearing his safety glasses while he sawed the pipe. Tiny shards of white plastic streamed to the floor.
“Henry?”
He looked up, his sweet grin tugging at my heart. “Is it time for lunch?”
“I’m going to make sandwiches soon,” I said. “But I came to ask you a question.”
Henry popped his goggles on top of his head and stood straight, laying his saw on the workbench behind him. “I’m all yours, what’s up?”
“What’s this I hear about you traveling to Mexico next week, to go to the Matamoros orphanage?”
He leaned back and folded his arms. “Who told you? One of your old choir friends from back home?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Henry, you can’t leave me in the lurch like this next week. I need your help at the shower.”
Henry gave me an apologetic smile. “I’d planned to take you out to dinner tonight and break the news gently. But I guess the cat’s out of the bag. Hope you’re not too mad.”
I felt my hands clench. I was desperate to make him understand how much I needed him. “I can’t do this job without you.”
He scratched the whisker stubble on his chin. “Lisa Leann, if there’s one thing I know about you, it is that you will carry on with or without me.”
I felt my face burn at that remark, spoken in innocence, or so I hoped. I walked toward him and slipped my arms around his waist. He in turn slipped his arms around mine and pulled me close. I could feel his breath on my face as I looked up at him. With his arms still holding me. “Please, Henry, you don’t know what it would mean to me if you didn’t go on that trip.”
He let go of me and picked up his saw, turning to hang it on a hook on the pegboard over the workbench. He turned back. “Well, Lisa Leann, let me put it to you this way. Steven Salmen called me last night and said I was his last hope. If I couldn’t go, this year’s mission trip was off.” He shrugged. “What else could I do? Think how disappointed those orphans would be if the youth group couldn’t come see them. They rely on us to bring them the clothes, money, and vitamins the teens have collected all year. Plus, can you imagine not hosting their annual Vacation Bible School? I had to say yes. I knew you’d understand.”
I gave him another hug and put my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I kept my voice steady. “I do understand, but isn’t there anyone else who could go in your place?”
He lifted my head with his rough hand. “Are you crying?” He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Trust me, Lisa Leann, I believe in you.”
“Do you?”
“You’re my girl,” he said before he kissed the top of my forehead. “Now, how about those sandwiches before I make a quick run to the hardware store?”
I sniffed my nose and pulled away. “Got some errands?”
“Yeah, I need another PVC pipe; they’re holding it for me at the counter at Todd’s Hardware just down the block.”
I nodded and dutifully went back to the kitchen, where I prepared turkey on pumpernickel slathered in mayo and spicy mustard, which I topped with baby Swiss, a slice of tomato, and a leaf of lettuce. I placed the sandwiches along with small bunches of green grapes onto two of my Lenox Eternal place settings. I plopped the plates onto a small lacy cloth, which I’d draped over a section of my large stainless steel island counter. Next, I folded a couple of my fine linen napkins into tight triangles and arranged them next to the plates. Finally, I pulled up a couple of my pinktopped stools.
The whole time I worked, I knew I was pouting. Not so much at Henry but at me. The extent of my betrayal of my husband continued to pummel me. What had I been thinking? Except for a better taste in men’s shoes, Clark didn’t stand up to my husband in any way. How could I not have seen that before?
I continued to sniffle as I poured iced tea into crystal glasses and placed them by our gold-rimmed plates. I slipped into the hall bathroom for a makeup check. I looked into my moist brown eyes and wondered how, without Henry, I would protect myself from Clark at that hotel. I tried to put on a happier face as I powdered the tip of my rosy-pink nose, hoping to hide the fact I hadn’t stopped sniveling since I’d heard Henry’s travel plans. With a semblance of calm, I stepped out of the bathroom and walked back to the workroom. “Lunch,” I called, sounding a bit too cheery.