A Taste of Fame (28 page)
I could hear Donna sniffing. She prayed next, “Help me to forgive and give me compassion.”
David said, “Protect us from hurts and betrayals.”
Evie added her “amen” just as we arrived at the hotel. We all exited the van, a bit teary eyed but with hearts that had been renewed and strengthened. As we entered the elevator together, Lisa Leann said, “Courage, everyone. If we get through this round tomorrow like I think we will, I have an idea about our next challenge.”
“But you don’t even know what that challenge will be,” Lizzie said.
“Don’t I? If the past shows are any indication, I’d say it was time for the celebrity cocktail party.”
“With alcohol?” I asked.
“We’re changing the rules,” Lisa Leann said. “From now on, the game belongs to us. We’ll serve whatever we feel like serving.”
The next morning back at the studio, it was exactly as Lisa Leann had predicted. After Gianne completed her elimination theatrics, Team Tex Mex said
adios
. That left Team Potluck, the Wild Cajun Cooks, and Team Batter Up to face off in the semifinals.
Gianne stood before us, looking gorgeous. She was wearing a yellow chiffon halter dress dotted with an occasional large rose. Her ropes of blonde curls swept over her bare, tanned shoulders. “Now, for the challenge you’ve all been waiting for. You will each be hosting your own celebrity cocktail party. Each team will have four thousand dollars and a room full of celebrity guests to pamper with a special theme, food, and entertainment. It’s time to put your best spoon forward, caterers. When the parties are over, we’ll see which two teams will be left to compete for our million dollar prize.”
Gianne then dismissed us to gather in our war rooms. But even with our entourage filming our every move, I noticed there was a new excitement in the air. I leaned over to Wade. “Did you have a talk with your mother?”
“She’s promised to leave for Denver.”
Donna touched his arm. “Really? When?”
Wade glanced at David, who was listening. “I’d like to tell you more, but not now. Let’s try to find a quiet place to talk later, okay?”
Donna nodded, relief relaxing her pretty face.
We sat down at our table and listened as Lisa Leann announced, “I have an idea that will make you go bananas.”
“Then we’re doing a luau theme?” Evie guessed.
Lisa Leann giggled. “Nope, we’re taking direction from yet another movie based in New York.”
We all leaned forward in anticipation as I asked, “Which one?”
Lisa Leann giggled. “The 1933 version of
King Kong
.” She winked as we collectively gasped. “We’re going to use props to simulate the top of the Empire State Building, we’re renting gorilla suits, and we’re serving everything ‘banana style.’ ”
“You mean like banana daiquiris?” I asked.
“Absolutely not, well, unless they’re ‘virgin.’ We’re not wasting our money on alcohol; we’re going to show our celebrities they can have a good time without it, like us church folk do at our own potlucks back home.”
David cleared his throat. “Hmm. I know a lot of celebrity types. They may not, let’s say, get the
punch
line.”
Lisa Leann laughed and wrote “banana punch” on the white board.
“Are you sure about this?” Lizzie asked. “I mean, I support you, we all do, but are you sure?”
Lisa Leann turned and faced us, her hands on her thin little hips, which sported the lace edge of her red top over a denim skirt. Her brown cowboy boots completed the package. “Let’s just go out there and have some fun. Besides, what do we have to lose?”
Before we left the war room, Kat came with clipboard in hand and Amy at her side to announce our event would be held on Sunday.
“Sunday?” Lizzie said. “That’s God’s day. Considering we’ve made a stand as to our faith, I think it would be wrong of us to work on Sunday.”
Amy cast a wry grin as Kat looked down at her clipboard, flipped a few pages, and said, “Some people would argue that with you, you know.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Kat looked directly at me. “It means, Goldie, that there is a theological debate as to when the ‘Lord’s Day’ is.” She managed to use the index finger of her right hand to place quote marks in the air.
“I realize that,” I said. “But the point is, Sunday is when we celebrate the Lord’s Day and—”
Before I could finish, Amy cut in. She glared at Lisa Leann and Evie, who just happened to be standing shoulder to shoulder. “If I remember correctly, weren’t the two of you here on a Sunday before the rest of the crew arrived?”
Lisa Leann pinked, and Evangeline muttered, “I told you we should have been in church.” Then to Amy, “That was a slight error in judgment.”
I cocked my head. “Wait a minute. How did you know what Lisa Leann and Evangeline were doing before the rest of us got here?” Working for an attorney was paying off in my “think ahead” tactics.
This time Amy pinked, but only for the briefest of moments. “That’s my job,” she said.
Kat, I noticed, looked perplexed. She cleared her throat. “Okay, Team Potluck. Here’s what we’ll do. I had you down for a cocktail party/political fund-raiser hosted by George Clooney, but I’ll trade Team Batter Up’s event, which is scheduled on Saturday, and give you theirs.”
She pulled a mechanical pencil from behind her ear and began jotting notes.
Personally, Sunday or not, I was relieved not to be involved with anything political. Daddy always said, “Never argue religion or politics, Goldie.” So, make that one for Team Potluck.
Though, to be honest, the win was bittersweet. I wouldn’t have minded mingling with George Clooney.
I thought of my husband and sighed. I love Jack, but George Clooney he’s not.
Not catering the political event, of course, led to the next question …
“So, what will we be catering?” Lisa Leann asked.
Kat looked up from her note-jotting and said, “An event to raise funds for the Prevent Cancer Foundation.”
We all smiled. “That speaks to all of us,” Vonnie said. “We lost our pastor’s wife last year to cancer.”
“Who are we working with?” David asked. Mr. Hollywood would think of such a question.
Kat smiled. “Probably some folks you know, Mr. Harris. David Zayas and Katie Couric, to name a couple.”
“Anyone else?” Lisa Leann probed.
“Oh yes. Lance Armstrong, Eva Longoria, and Scarlett Johansson.”
“Scarlett Johansson?” Vonnie exclaimed. “I loved her in
The Horse Whisperer
.”
“Love her or not,” Kat said, “you now have one less day to get your act together and cater this event. You’ll be contacted by a man named London Goodman, who is the overseer of the event, probably first thing in the morning.” She looked around the room. “Okay. Any questions?”
We all shook our heads no.
“Oh, one more thing,” Kat said. “This is a dessert-only affair.”
“Of course,” David said with a nod.
Kat and Amy turned on their heels and left the room, leaving us to gape at one another. Finally Lisa Leann said, “Well, girls and boys, back to work.”
We—all of us but Faye Gage, who Wade had ordered to stay in her room—went out for a late dinner that evening. It was there our men announced they’d be leaving the next afternoon for Summit View.
I’m not sure who looked more shocked of the five of us with spouses, but I have to admit Lisa Leann looked the most despairing.
“I’ve got to get back to the sheriff’s office,” Vernon was saying. “With both Donna and me out of the county, who knows what might be going on.”
Donna nodded in her father’s direction. “We’ve got some good deputies—I mean, other than me—but Dad’s right. He can’t stay gone forever. It’s kinda like leaving Barney alone in Mayberry for too long and expecting anything less than pandemonium.”
There were a few giggles, but I slipped my arm into Jack’s and whispered in his ear, “I don’t want you to go.”
He turned to me and kissed my cheek. “I’d love to stay forever in this city with you, Goldie. But school starts soon, and I’ve got football camp coming up.”
I broached a subject I’d left unsaid in the privacy of our hotel room. “Is that what’s wrong? Is the team on your mind?”
“What do you mean?”
I was grateful for all the conversation going on around us as I whispered close enough for just him to hear, “Jack, not once since you’ve been here have we … you know …”
Jack blushed fully then turned pale. “We’ll talk later.”
I pressed my lips together. Something was wrong. A wife has a way of knowing these things. Was there now another woman— again—in Summit View? Or Denver or Breckenridge? Or any of the other number of small ski towns dotting the map around our town? Had I been gone too long from our bed? At our age, one would think a wife and husband could be apart for a few weeks and be okay, but Jack’s libido had always been that of an eighteen-yearold boy’s. Maybe our couple’s therapy hadn’t been enough. Maybe nothing I ever did would be enough. Maybe …
“It’s not what you think.” Jack’s words were spoken low but with certainty, but I wasn’t so sure.
“What do I think?” I kept my eyes locked with his.
He looked pained. “Goldie,” he whispered. “After all these years, I know you better than you know yourself.”
This time I pinked, then turned from his gaze and focused on the chatter at the table. I took a deep breath and sighed. I had one more night with my husband here in New York. I’d best make it a night to remember.
Well, at least I tried. I took a long, hot soak in scented water, slipped into a pretty nightgown, and stepped out of our bath with all the sultriness of Rita Hayworth I could muster. Jack was sitting up in bed, several pillows at his back and head, with an open book before him. Though he appeared to be reading, I could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the words on the page.
“Jack,” I said, keeping my voice low.
He glanced up from the book and smiled. Then—just as quickly— frowned. I felt my brow furrow. He patted the bed beside him and said, “Come here, Goldie. Come sit down.”
I did.
Jack took a deep breath and then released it as he closed the book and placed it on the bedside table. Then, turning to me, he took my hand and said, “Goldie, I’m not going to lie to you.”
“It’s someone else,” I said, jerking my hand from him.
“Don’t go there,” he said. “Because that’s not it. That’s not even close.”
In the past, Jack’s affairs had all been a matter of the physical. He’d felt little to no affection for the women he’d bedded. Our therapist and pastor had confirmed the reality of this claim. “Men who have sexual compulsions,” Pastor Kevin had explained to me during one of our sessions, “are rarely in another woman’s bed because of love, Goldie. They turn to others out of … well … compulsion. Which is why Jack came to me, to find help.”
The help—I thought—had worked. Now I had to wonder. What was Jack getting at? Was he actually in love this time? With someone else? He hadn’t shown me a lack of attention since he’d been here, but he hadn’t shown me any physical interest either.
“Does your heart belong to someone else now?” I blurted my thoughts.
Jack appeared genuinely shocked, then chuckled. “You could say that.”
My mouth fell open. “How can you laugh?”
My husband shook his head. “I’m not laughing, Goldie. I’m … I’m trying to tell you that I’ve not been well lately and … my heart … well, it belongs to Dr. Kelleher.”
I grabbed my husband’s hand. “The team doctor? What do you mean, you haven’t been well? Jack?”
“Remember when you asked me to see him about my chest pains?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I did. And then I went to see another doctor in Denver, a Dr. Luma.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And interrupt what you have going on here? No way. Dr. Luma assured me the surgery could wait.”
“Surgery?” my voice squealed.
“Right after you left I saw Dr. Kelleher. The next day I saw Dr. Luma—”
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Just listen.”
“I’m listening. What did this Dr. Luma say?”
“He did an EKG while I was in his office, then ordered a stress echocardiogram, which I had about two days later.”
“Is that like a stress test?” My shoulders ached from sitting so straight.
“Something like it.”
“What did that show?”
“It showed a few problems, so the doctor ordered an angiogram, which showed some blockage.”
“Blockage? Oh, Jack!” I felt tears burning my eyes, then spill down my cheeks.
Jack wrapped me in his arms. “Shhh … Goldie,” he said. “Don’t cry. If the doctor had thought I was in any real danger, he wouldn’t have let me come all the way to the East Coast. He put me on some meds, told me to watch my diet, and when I go back we’ll talk about bypass surgery. I told him I didn’t want your opportunity out here thwarted, and he said I should be fine.” He drew back. “But I tire out easily, as you can tell, and quite frankly, with this medication, sex is the last thing on my mind.”
I slipped off the bed and walked toward the closet.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going to start packing. I’m going home with you tomorrow.”
Before I could pull the closet door open, Jack was scrambling out of the bed and heading toward me. “Oh no, you don’t. If you get on that plane, I won’t. I will not be responsible for you not seeing this contest through.”
I felt my shoulders sag. I stomped a foot and balled my fists. “Jack!”
Again he wrapped me in his arms. “No, Goldie. I’m fine. I am. The doctor said so.”
I slipped my arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed. “Jack, don’t you dare leave me. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through and all we’ve done to get it right.”
He chuckled again. “I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going back to Summit View.” He leaned back, kissed my pouting lips while holding my face between his hands. “And I promise I’ll take care of myself.”
I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded again.
“Okay. Let’s go to bed.” He took a few steps, pulling me with him. “And sleep.”
That night we lay like spoons, his arms tight around me, my hands gripping his, his heart beating steadily against my back.
