The Secret's in the Sauce (35 page)

Then I saw everything through Donna’s eyes and felt my shoulders relax. “No,” I said finally. “It doesn’t. They are, after all, your mother and father. Nothing in this world will ever change that.”

Donna leaned over and kissed my cheek in the very same place her father had a few minutes earlier. When she leaned back I placed my fingertips where their lips had been and pressed. Tears formed in my eyes and I pressed harder, preserving the memory while willing myself not to cry.

Family, I decided, was not only built on blood. Sometimes family was built on mutual respect and love.

And kisses.

When the party was over, when the last of the guests had departed and all the leftover food had been put away, we—the ladies of the Potluck Catering Club—pulled padded banquet chairs around one of the cleared tables and sat slack-shouldered and weak-backed. It had been a wild success, this shower. As my father used to say, “We done good.” Michelle and Adam would be well-set financially and the Potluck Catering Club would be the talk of the Summit View business elite. Lisa Leann, I had by now decided, could keep her job as head honcho of our catering club. She’d done a first-rate job, and I, for one, wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I am pooped,” Lizzie said.

Vonnie reached over and patted her hand. “I am impressed you stayed to help with the cleanup.”

Lizzie—dressed in a dazzling satin pewter-colored cocktail dress with matching sequined jacket and wearing eye-catching multicolored rhinestone accessories—smiled at us all. “I told Samuel I wanted to be—as Kaci puts it—with my peeps. Besides, you girls were terrific. I can never thank you enough.” We’d managed to pour a serving each of punch from the bowls, and she took a sip.
“Whose recipe is this? It’s incredible.”

“Mama’s,” I answered. “That woman knew how to make punch.”

“I remember,” Vonnie said.

“Me too.” Lizzie set her cup down. “Did anyone besides me notice how little the bar was used and how this nonalcoholic punch flew
out of the bowls, so to speak.”

Donna leaned back and crossed one tuxedoed leg over the other. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Sometimes nonalcoholic just suits better.” She gave Lizzie a long look, and Lizzie nodded, pressing her lips together.

“Hear, hear,” Lizzie then said, raising her glass. We did likewise and drained our glasses.

“How’s your mother, Liz?” I asked her, setting my glass back on the table.

Lizzie shrugged. “She’s okay, I think. We’ve got her settled, at least. And, time will tell.”

“Time will tell for sure,” Vonnie added. “Lizzie, how is it you and I managed to have our sons and mothers create such chaos in our lives at the same time?” Vonnie, I noted, looked as though she’d aged five years since David’s arrival and her mother’s injury.

Lizzie giggled. “Must be God’s way of keeping us humble,” she said.

“Speaking of David,” Lisa Leann said, seeming to spring back to life and turning a bit to look at Donna. “You and David sure did look chummy this evening.”

Even in the soft lighting I could see Donna blush as she uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again. She looked to Vonnie before answering. “Like you said, time will tell. I’m not so sure I’m up for anything heavy right now.”

“I thought you and Wade . . .” Goldie spoke up for the first time since we’d gathered around the table, but then became quiet again.

Donna reached for her empty punch cup and began to fiddle with it. “I dunno. Wade and I . . . maybe we’re just the past trying to catch up with the present.” She cocked her head to the side and studied her index finger as it etched around the rim of her glass. “I shouldn’t say anything. Once you say something, it’s out there. But I guess if I can’t talk to you girls I can’t talk to anyone.” She moistened her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “I will always love Wade. He and I have a very personal history. And maybe it’s too much. I don’t know. Maybe he is ‘the one.’ And maybe right now—what with everything going on with Pete—maybe right now isn’t the best time for Wade. Family wise.” She looked up. “And David. David is fun. A lot of fun, actually.” She smiled broadly. “And a pretty good kisser.”

“And crazy about you,” Vonnie added after we’d all giggled like schoolgirls.

“And crazy about me.” But there seemed to be no joy in her words, I noted. How could one woman have so many men in love with her and be without joy in her words?

We were silent for a good minute before Vonnie said, “Well, you never know, my girl. Maybe—just maybe—the man God has set aside to be your husband is neither Wade nor David.” Vonnie was sitting next to Donna, and she patted the area between her shoulder blades maternally.

“Maybe you’ve not even met him yet,” Goldie said, sitting straighter in her chair. “Wouldn’t that be something, girls?”

We all mumbled in agreement. Donna, in an effort—I’m sure— to change the subject, looked across the table at Goldie and said, “Enough about me. How are you?

Goldie became misty-eyed. “I’ve decided that while one day I’ll get through a day without crying, I’ll never ever experience a day when I don’t miss my daddy.”

“I can vouch for that,” I said.

“Me too.” Lizzie raised her hand in agreement.

We became quiet again, perhaps too tired to talk, until Lisa Leann said, “Girls, I needed to talk to you about something. It’s going to come out soon enough, and I . . .” She cut her eyes over at Donna, then straightened and leaned over, resting her elbows on the table and bowing her head as though in prayer. When she looked up, tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted to tell Henry first, but he’s still away on the missions trip, and I . . .” She swiped tears from both cheeks with her perfectly manicured fingertips.

“My goodness, Lisa Leann. What in the world could be so earthshattering?” I asked.

“Girls, I feel I can trust you. I can, right? Because if this were to get out . . .”

All my friends exchanged glances, that is, except for Donna, who continued to look down. What in the world?

I was the first one to speak. “Lisa Leann, you can trust us.”

She looked hesitant, and I saw her glance toward Donna, who gave her a reassuring nod.

Lisa Leann turned the color of our aprons. “I . . . I haven’t always been faithful to Henry,” she said, “and in the last few days, my indiscretion caught up with me, right here in this hotel.” She took a breath but quickly resumed. “It was wrong, I’ve repented, I broke it off, but Clark Wilkes followed me here and tried to restart the affair I thought I’d left behind in Texas.”

“Clark Wilkes? That nice man who just visited our church?” Vonnie asked.

“He’s not as nice as he looks.”

Donna spoke up. “I’m filing charges against him on Monday. A quick investigation showed that Mr. Wilkes has sexually harassed some of the female employees here at the hotel.”

Lizzie put her hand to her chest. “Michelle . . .”

Donna said, “Lucky for her, she didn’t work in his department.”

Lisa Leann continued. “The difficult part is, I’m going to have to come clean with Henry and tell him what I’ve done. It’s the only way to really protect my marriage from Clark, because as it is, our secret leaves Clark with an open door. A door I have to shut.”

We sat in stony silence until Lizzie cleared her throat. “Donna, you really are something, you know that?” Then Lizzie looked at everyone and said, “A week ago Donna pulled me over, but instead of taking me to jail, she gave me a second chance.” Now tears were coursing down her cheeks. “Did you ladies know that?” It was obvious she was speaking through a knot in her throat.

“For speeding?” Vonnie asked. “Why would you go to jail for
speeding?”

Lizzie and Donna shared a knowing look, then Lizzie answered. “Not for speeding, Von. For driving under the influence.” She nodded while we swallowed our collective gasps and then continued. “I have learned something, my friends. One, I’m apparently sensitive to the sugar and alcohol combination. Two, when life hits hard, your knees should hit equally as hard on the floor of your closet, so to speak. Alcohol—no matter how much or how little—will never settle a problem . . . be it too many people under a roof, a husband’s injury, a mother’s dementia . . .” She looked at Goldie. “Or a husband’s infidelity or a parent’s passing.” Then to Vonnie. “Or a strained marriage after a past secret—like an unknown son— has been revealed.” Then to Lisa Leann. “Lisa Leann, I don’t know how Henry is going to take your news, but I know this: if we band together and pray, God will take each one of our secrets and draw them to the quiet places of his heart. And that’s the real truth of the matter.”

“All God’s children got secrets,” Goldie said whisper-quiet.

“That’s right,” Lizzie continued. “But all God’s children got prayer too.” She reached over and took the hands of the two beside her— Goldie and Lisa Leann. Lisa Leann took Donna’s hand, who took Vonnie’s, who took mine. I looked over at Goldie, who was extending
her hand toward me.

Our hands clasped, and then we all looked toward the center of the table, where a single candle flickered light against the soft pink petals of a rose bouquet.

“Shall we pray?”

The Potluck Catering Club Recipes

Double Chocolate Brownies

2 6-ounce bags semisweet chocolate chips

3 tablespoons butter

¾ cup granulated sugar

3½ tablespoons water

2 eggs

¾ cup flour

¾ teaspoon salt

powdered sugar

2 cups walnuts or pecans (optional)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. In a medium saucepan, combine 1 bag of chocolate chips with butter, sugar, and water. Cook and stir over low heat. When melted, stir in the second bag of chocolate chips and dissolve/melt into mixture. Next, stir in eggs, flour, and salt. (Optional: stir 2 cups of walnuts or pecans into batter.) Stir the thick, lumpy batter before pouring into (sprayed) 9-inch square pan. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes then set on rack to cool. Top with dusting of powdered sugar.

Yield: 1 pan of brownies

Donna’s Cook’s Notes

I know I don’t look like I eat brownies by the pan full, and I don’t. But if I get a craving and make a pan, I share them with my pals at the station as well as whenever I run into cute paramedics. I always think I might freeze the rest, but that never happens because they disappear before I get around to it.

Chocolate Cheesecake

C
RUST

1¾ cups graham cracker crumbs

2 tablespoons sugar

¹
/
₃
cup melted butter

¼ teaspoon salt

Combine graham cracker crumbs, sugar, butter, and salt. Press mixture into side of greased 10 -inch springform pan. Chill.

F
ILLING

2 8-ounce packages cream cheese

8 ounces of chocolate chips

2 eggs

²
/
₃
cup corn syrup

¹
/
₃
cup heavy cream

1½ teaspoons vanilla

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cube cream cheese and set aside to soften. In microwave-safe bowl, microwave chocolate chips on high for 1 minute. Stir. If chips aren’t completely melted, microwave for another minute then stir again.

Next, in separate mixing bowl, beat eggs, corn syrup, cream, and vanilla until smooth. Slowly add cream cheese cubes. When filling is smooth, slowly pour in melted chocolate and beat until well blended.

Finally, pour filling into pie shell and bake for 50 to 55 minutes, until firm. Set aside to cool, then cover to freeze or to refrigerate.

Yield: one cheesecake—slice as thinly as possible to save calories.

Lisa Leann’s Cook’s Notes

Nothing like a bite or two of chocolate cheesecake to take the blues away. That’s why I always have one in my freezer in the garage, for emergencies. Just try not to have too many emergencies, or you may have to change your dress size.

Chocolate Macaroons

¾ cup sugar

4 large egg whites

4 cups shredded sweetened coconut

3 tablespoons matzah cake meal

3 tablespoons cocoa powder

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment. Set aside. Combine the sugar and egg whites in the top of a double boiler over simmering water (boil 2 inches of water in the bottom of the double boiler and reduce the heat to simmer). Cook the mixture, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Stir in the coconut, cake meal, and cocoa until smooth. Spoon 24 mounds of macaroons onto the baking sheet and bake for 15 to 18 minutes, until the tops are just golden. Allow to cool completely before removing from the baking sheet.

Yield: 24 macaroons.

Evangeline’s Cook’s Notes

Naturally this is a new recipe for the girls and me, but from what I hear they turned out pretty yummy. So yummy, I decided to try it myself. Vernon made an absolute pig of himself!

Lemon Chicken

¹
/
₃
cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon paprika

1 frying chicken (2½ to 3 pounds)

3 tablespoons lemon juice

3 tablespoons Crisco

1 chicken bouillon cube

¼ cup green onion, sliced

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1½ teaspoons lemon peel, grated

chopped parsley for garnish

In paper or plastic bag, combine flour, salt, and paprika. Brush the cut-up chicken with lemon juice. Add 2 to 3 pieces of chicken at a time to the bag and shake well. In a large skillet, brown chicken in hot Crisco. Dissolve bouillon cube in ¾cup boiling water; pour over chicken. Stir in onion, brown sugar, lemon peel, and remaining lemon juice. Cover, reduce heat, and cook chicken over low heat until tender, 40 to 50 minutes. Garnish with chopped parsley.

Serves 4.

Goldie’s Cook’s Notes

Sally is a real doll for sharing this recipe with me. She says she found it in an old cookbook of her mother’s and that nothing but nothing her mother ever cooked came out bad. One taste of this recipe and you’ll be a believer in old cookbooks too!