The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (13 page)

I punched him playfully on the shoulder but smiled as I said, “Vernon, you are a sweet talker.”

He patted his belly. “And a hungry one. We’ve had one emergency after another today, what with the blizzard, so I haven’t had
a chance to eat. What can I do to help?”

“I just put the silver on the table. Why don’t you set everything up, and I’ll bring in dinner. How’s that?” I was already halfway to the kitchen.

“Sounds good.”

As soon as we sat and said the blessing, Vernon dove right into his meal. I took a deep breath and began to say what was on my mind, not so much as even picking up my fork. “Vernon, we really
need to talk.”

Vernon stopped chewing long enough to take a drink of water. “What about?”

“About Doreen.”

I watched as the color went out of his face and he grimaced. He shook his head. “What do you want to bring her up for when I’m sitting here with a near-empty stomach?”

“You have to tell Donna.”

Vernon took another bite of food. “I will,” he said, trying to eat and talk at the same time.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Vernon.”

He gave me a look and swallowed, then took another drink of water. “Listen here, Evangeline,” he said. “Donna is my problem,
not yours. And Doreen is my problem too. I can handle it.”

I didn’t say anything for a second or two, and Vernon went back to eating his dinner. I, too, picked up my fork and began to poke at my food until I couldn’t take it anymore. “But when?” I asked, leaning in.

Vernon dropped his fork with a loud clang. “For pity’s sweet sake,
woman. You aren’t going to let this rest, are you?”

I pressed my hand against my breast. “I have waited my whole life, Vernon Vesey, to be your wife. My whole life! Or, near about. And I will not have Doreen Roberts messing things up for me.”

“What makes you think—”

“We’ve got less than two months. And a lot can go wrong in two months. Or a lot can go right. Donna needs to know her mother is in town so she can go ahead and get whatever emotional upheaval she’s going to have out of the way and be done with it before she
walks down the aisle as my maid of honor.”

Vernon opened his mouth, ready—no doubt—to argue, then closed it again. “Maid of honor?”

“That’s what I said. Don’t you think she ought to be?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve bothered to think that far.”

“Well, you must.” I looked down at his plate. “Eat your supper before it gets cold.” He dutifully obeyed. “We’ve got a lot to do and only a little time to do it in. I’ve already called Lisa Leann, darn her hide, and asked her to be the wedding coordinator.”

“The what?”

“The wedding coordinator. Vernon, don’t you know anything about weddings?”

“Well, yeah. I know how to say ‘I do,’ and I know all about cleaving only unto you,” he said with a wink.

“Vern.”

“I thought we’d just go to the church, have the preacher marry us.” This time he leaned in. “Head out for a honeymoon.”

I blushed, I’m just sure I did. “Vernon Vesey. You are changing
the subject. And, no. I don’t want that.”

“You don’t? No honeymoon for Mrs. Vesey?” He reached for my hand.

“Well, yes. I mean... what I’m trying to say is that I want a wedding. A real wedding. I’ve got the money set aside for it, and I want it. The dress, the girls, the groomsmen all dressed up in tuxes.”

“You will not get me in a penguin suit.”

I just stared at him for a moment, all the while wondering if I should give up and give in or use my womanly wiles, what few I had. I opted for using my womanly wiles. I stood and walked over to where he sat, pushed his chair back just enough so that I could drop into his lap. Wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, I gave him the best kiss I dared give, then pouted and said, “You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you, Vern?”

He turned bright pink, then sighed. “Yeah. For you I would.”

I kissed him again. “And you’ll talk to Donna?”

“Now that I don’t know.”

“You know you should,” I said, running my fingers through the short curls at the nape of his neck.

“Evie.”

“You should. You really, really should.”

He sighed. “Alright. I will.”

I sat up straight. “When?”

“This week.”

I laughed, then stood and returned to my seat.

“You are a heartless woman, Evangeline Benson.”

I grinned. “I know.”

Vernon looked down at his watch, then pushed back from the table. “I’ve got to watch
Hollywood Nightly
tonight, and it’s nearly seven o’clock now.”

“
Hollywood Nightly
?” I asked, standing with him then reaching for our plates. “Since when do you watch
Hollywood Nightly
?”

“Since my daughter’s face is going to be flashed across the country on it. She called earlier, nearly beside herself.”

“Donna? Donna is going to be on
Hollywood Nightly
?”

I took the dishes into the kitchen, then followed Vernon into the family room, where he’d already turned on the television and stretched out in the recliner. With the remote in his hand, he kicked off his shoes, and they landed with a thud on the floor. I laughed to myself, thinking
that the man was surely making himself right at home.

I sat on the sofa and curled my feet up under me. Within seconds the theme music to the gossip show started, and then the pretty honey-toned face of Kendra Goodall filled the screen. Behind her, Main Street in a snowy Summit View filled the screen. Directly behind her, and across the street, Lisa Leann stood under the protective awning of her wedding shop and waved.

“Vernon, that’s—”

“Shh,” he said.

“Lisa Leann,” I whispered. “That woman.”

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to
Hollywood Nightly
.” Kendra began her program, and Lisa Leann stopped her nonsensical waving. “We’re broadcasting from Summit View, Colorado, where the snow has finally slacked off a bit and Hollywood has hit the high country.”

Kendra’s face was replaced by an old black and white of Harmony Harris. “The late Harmony Harris left Tinsel Town a mere six months ago. A woman of many secrets, she took to her grave the name of her illegitimate son’s father.”

Another picture swooped onto the screen, this one a color shot of Harmony and a very young David Harris. I estimated him to
be about three years old.

I sucked in my breath. Vonnie’s son. I wondered if she was watching.

“For years,” the voiceover of Kendra continued, “it was rumored that Harmony Harris had affairs with nearly all of her leading men.”

“Oh, my,” I said.

“That’s Hollywood for you,” Vernon commented.

Photos of Harmony and male Hollywood legends shot across the screen, appearing to be tossed and fanned over. “But as David Harris matured to be the handsome, dark-skinned man he is today” —another photo, a more recent one, came into view—“it was more highly speculated that his father was Hollywood’s notorious
Latin lover, Eduardo Gonzales.

“But Harmony Harris never let on as to the paternity of her son. Instead she used him—and quite often—as a ploy for comebacks
and speculation. The mark of a great Hollywood actress.”

Video footage of Harmony came into view. She was lovely with her dark hair pulled sharply to the back of her head and large dark sunglasses shielding her eyes. Her bright smile flashed for the camera as she spoke, “Why, yes,” she was saying, “it could have been Eduardo.” Then she laughed. “But I never kiss and tell.” She pursed
her lips and kissed the air toward the camera.

“She’s like a Marilyn Monroe,” Vernon said. “My goodness above.”

More footage replaced the old, this taken in front of Vonnie and Fred’s house.

“That’s Vonnie’s!”

Kendra continued. “But all that’s changed now, and the secret is finally out. David Harris is not the son of Eduardo Gonzales but of a man named Joseph Jewell.”

A photo of Vonnie’s first husband, dressed in his military best, flashed on the screen.

“How in the world did they get...”

The camera came back to Kendra and—lo and behold—Lisa Leann still in the background. By now Lisa Leann had put a fisted hand on one hip and was pointing to the sign above her shop. “
Hollywood Nightly
has the exclusive on the 1960s cross-cultural marriage of Miss Vonnie Swenson—now Mrs. Fred Westbrook of Summit View, Colorado—and the Mexican-American Joe Jewell, a man whose father was of German heritage, and who died while serving his country in Vietnam.”

“Oh,” I said. “I hope Vonnie’s not watching this.”

“Vonnie’s mama came to stay with her; you know that?” Vernon said from the recliner.

“What?” I asked but kept my face glued to the television.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Kendra’s plastered smile turned sober. “It took this
Hollywood
Nightly
reporter all day to get the real story, America. But I do
have it...”

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“And it will break your heart.” For the next few minutes she told the story while life in Summit View passed behind her on camera. I sat transfixed as Clay Whitefield came to stand beside Lisa Leann then tugged her inside her shop. From beyond the glass doors there appeared to be a little tug of war going on between them, Lisa Leann clearly trying to get back onto the street. A few of the locals crossed the street, huddled under thick scarves and puffy jackets. Most didn’t bother to look at the camera. Some did, starstruck. At one point I saw Donna dash across, head down, as though she were in a hurry to get to—no doubt—Higher Grounds.

“Was that it? Was that Donna’s national debut?” I asked Vernon.

He frowned. “No, I don’t think so. She said something about being at Vonnie’s yesterday.”

When the very personal story of Vonnie and her first husband was finally over, Kendra smiled broadly. “And now we know the
truth, and from the son of Harmony himself.”

Next on screen was video footage of Kendra shoving a microphone into David’s face and saying, “Mr. Harris, it was always rumored that you were actually the illegitimate son of the famed Hollywood actress, Harmony Harris, and one of her leading men.
So, we can put those rumors to bed?”

David smiled in the same manner his adopted mother had. “Yes. Those rumors were false. My mother’s publicist has prepared a statement; in the meantime, I can tell you that the late Harmony Harris was my mother by adoption.”

“So, you’ve come to Summit View, Colorado, to meet your birth mother, Vonnie Westbrook. According to the news story that came across AP last night, there were mysterious circumstances surrounding your adoption. What can you tell us?”

David put on his sunglasses and simply answered, “No comment.”

In the background Wade Gage’s truck came to a full stop.

“Oh, boy,” Vernon commented. “No wonder Donna was beside
herself.”

Kendra continued, “So, David, is the rumor true that you’re engaged to be married? Is this your fiancée?”

The camera lens panned and widened to show Vernon’s daughter. My mouth fell open.

“Fiancée?” Vernon bolted upright.

“Vernon,” I said, reaching a hand out to calm him. “Listen.”

David slipped his arm around Donna. “I have no comment to make at this time.”

“Then you’re not denying the rumor?” Kendra went on, smiling all the while, turning her focus to Donna. “Can you tell us your name and what it’s like to be engaged to one of the most eligible
bachelors in Hollywood?”

Wade stepped up about that time. “Why don’t you point that thing in another direction?”

With the cameras still rolling, but this time pointed at Wade, Kendra remarked, “This is a free country, cowboy. I can point our camera where I please. And if you don’t leave, I’m going to call in
the local law.”

Vernon shook his head. “I do not believe this.”

About that time the cell phone clipped to his belt rang. He jerked it from its holder and looked down. “It’s Donna.” I reached for the remote and turned down the volume as he flipped open the phone. “Hey, sweetheart. I just saw it.” He paused for a minute. “Come again? Are you sure?” His tone was grim.

“What?” I asked, touching his arm. “What is it?”

He held up a hand to shush me. “Okay, here’s what I’ll need you to do; call Wade... yes, Wade. Call Wade and see if he’ll let you borrow his snowmobile. He’s got a fairly new one, and I don’t want you out there on anything but the best. I’ll put in a call to the sheriff out there and see what I can find out. I’ll have one of his deputies meet you, go in with you. All right, sweetheart. And listen. You be careful, you hear me? Head on over there tonight, but don’t try to do anything until the sun comes up, you hear me?... Do you hear me? That’s an order, Deputy.” He closed the phone and sighed deeply.

“What in the world was that about?” I asked.

“Sit down, Evie-girl,” he said. He was so serious, I knew better than to argue. I sat on the sofa, and he sat beside me and took my hand. “There’s been a snowslide at Jade Pass.”

“Jade Pass? Where’s that?”

“On the other side of Summit Ridge.”

I felt the blood rush from my head. “That’s where...”

He squeezed my hand. “I know. Goldie and Jack. Donna said
everything from Jade Pass on is trapped behind the slide.”

I looked from Vernon’s face back to the flickering of the television, where Kendra Goodall continued in her exclusive, and Lisa Leann, who had escaped from Clay’s clutches, was waving a sign, Wedding Helps.com, in the background. “Oh, Lord” was all I could say.

15

Between a Rock and a Hollywood Place

Clay was in a bind. Torn between two lovers, so to speak.

His date with Britney had gone remarkably well. Just like his mother had always taught him, he arrived ten minutes early. Britney’s father, a nice guy if Clay’d ever met one, welcomed him with an invitation to take a seat with the rest of the family while Britney finished getting ready. “We’re just sitting here watching a little television,” he said. “We understand that a local will be on
Hollywood
Nightly
.” And that’s how he came to watch Donna Vesey on national television: surrounded by Britney & Family in the midst of a homey den (a far cry from his place). It was an odd moment if he’d ever had one.