The Potluck Club (32 page)

I looked up to the wall clock. It was a little after 9:00; Olivia would be back any minute. I rose quickly, walked over to the phone at the bar, and dialed the number I’d read on the ad.

“Chris Lowe’s office,” a chipper voice said.

“Yes, hello. I . . . I need to set an appointment with Mr. Lowe, please.”

“Your name?” the voice inquired.

I heard Olivia’s car pulling into the garage. “Um, Goldie. Goldie Dippel.”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Dippel.” I had no idea whom I was speaking with, and judging by the sound of Olivia’s car door slamming, I didn’t have time to find out.

“Yes, hello. I need to see Mr. Lowe as soon as possible.”

Olivia was coming up the garage steps, closing the garage door using the remote control at the top.

“I can get you in early this afternoon if that works for you.”

The back door opened. “It does, thank you. What time?” Olivia walked in, entering the laundry room off from the kitchen. I had a clear shot of her closing and securing the door with the dead bolt. “Does 1:00 work for you?”

Olivia turned to see me with the phone pressed hard against my ear. “Hi, Mom.”

I smiled at her. “Yes, that works fine for me,” I spoke into the phone.

Olivia proceeded through the laundry room to the hall, which led to the back of the house.

“Do you know where we’re located?” the voice asked.

“Main Street?”

“The corner of Main and Sixth. Across the street from the Church of Christ. We’re on the second floor over the card shop.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then.” I replaced the receiver as quietly as I knew how, stepped lightly over to the sofa, and returned my attention to the paper still spread out before me.

Olivia entered just then. “Was that Dad on the phone?” she asked, sitting in Tony’s recliner.

“No.” I shook my head without looking over at her.

“Tony said he’d called last night but you were already asleep.”

“Mmmhmm.” I looked over at her. “Olivia, what do you think about my getting a job in Breckenridge in one of the little clothing stores?”

“Oh, Mom. Why don’t you just wait to see what God allows?” I looked back at the paper. “I’m not going to just sit and wait, Olivia. God provides, but he also expects us to work. He who does not work, does not eat,” I said, quoting one of the verses found in Proverbs.

“But you don’t need a real job; you’re helping me out here.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her cross one leg over the other as if that settled that. “Just wait, okay? For me?”

I turned to look at her. “I can’t do everything for you, Olivia. Some things I have to do for me. I need a job . . . no, I want a job. I want to feel useful to more than just my daughter or her husband or my grandson. Not that I’m not happy as a peach to help you, but I need to be my own person.” I looked back at the paper. “For once in my life.”

I stood on the sidewalk in front of the Alpine Card Shop at precisely 12:45, dressed in black slacks, a turquoise long-sleeved blouse, and a black jacket that did little to cut the cold coming in from down the mountains surrounding Summit View. Looking up, I saw an overhead window just below the Alpine-inspired façade jutting toward the blue sky. “Chris Lowe, Attorney at Law” was painted in picture-perfect lettering across the pane. I wondered how in the world I was supposed to get to the second floor. There didn’t seem to be a door leading from the outside to the upstairs.

A customer exiting the card shop interrupted my silent wondering. “Hi, Goldie.” I looked to see Carrie Lowe standing in front of me. I sighed, not needing this encounter. “Missed you on Sunday.”

“Thank you,” I said, hoping that just being polite would save me from having to say anything else.

“You didn’t feel well?”

So much for not lying, Lord.
“No, not really.” Well, maybe not technically a lie.

“Going in the card shop?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”
I’m sorry, Lord. I don’t mean to lie like this, but
I’m just not ready for the whole world to know yet.

Carrie smiled at me, tossing her long hair—secured by a large elastic band—over a shoulder. “Chris and I just came back from lunch over at the Pancake House,” she continued, pointing to the card shop door. “I was hoping to get him to go with me to Dillon this afternoon to look for new bedroom furniture, but he said he has a 1:00.”

I felt my eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah. Oh, well. We’ll go another time. I just had an itch, that’s all.”

I looked back up. “So that’s where Chris’s office is,” I prodded her.

Carrie looked up too. “Yeah,” she said, bringing her focus back to me. “The only thing I don’t like about it is that you have to go through the card shop to get to it, and most of the time I can hardly get through it without finding some cute something or other for the house.”

I smiled at her. “Well, let me get in there and see what I can find.”
Sorry again, Lord, but you can consider this one an even ex
–
change for the other line I thought was a lie. Apparently I am going
into the card shop.

I found a small staircase at the back of the card shop with a framed sign reading “Attorney’s Office Upstairs” next to it. I took the steps deliberately, glancing down at my watch to check the time. I had only a few minutes before my appointment. I paused near the top step, thinking I could always turn right around and go back down. I didn’t have to do this . . .

Ascending footsteps caused me to whirl around.

“Hi, Mrs. Dippel.” It was the same voice I’d heard on the phone earlier, a voice I now recognized as belonging to Jenna Lowe, daughter of Chris and Carrie.

“Hello, Jenna.” Jenna was a recent graduate of Summit View High; I remembered her as being one of Jack’s star basketball players. “I didn’t realize you worked for your father.”

She smiled as she reached me, forcing me to continue my ascent into the attorney’s office. “I’ve worked for Dad since I was in high school.” She managed to step past me once we hit the landing. “You’re just in time for your appointment. I’ll let Dad know that you’re here.”

I took a seat in the nearest chair I could find, clutching my purse close to my abdomen. I crossed my legs, bobbed one foot up and down in time with the music coming from the overhead speaker, and looked about the room. There was a sofa table flush against a wall and covered in neatly stacked magazines—
Field and
Stream
,
4 Wheel Drive
,
Outside
,
Backcountry
, and
Skiing
—all the necessary periodicals for those who live in the high country, while only a Bible accessorized the coffee table in front of a forest green love seat. The walls were richly decorated with large matted prints of aerial-view snapshots photographed in Colorado.

“Mrs. Dippel?”

I jumped at the sound of Jenna’s voice, standing and spilling my purse. “Oh, dear.” I began to collect the various items rolling around on the floor.

“My dad is ready to see you now,” Jenna continued.

I looked up at her, stuffing my purse with the retrieved escape artists, then stood straight and tall. “Thank you, Jenna.”

I walked to the door she pointed to, entering to find a man I’d gone to church with for as many years as I’d been a citizen of Summit View. The interior of his office was pretty much the same as the outer office with the exception of the love seat. There was even a Bible opened on his desk. “Goldie,” he greeted me, sunlight streaming in from the window behind him, nearly illuminating the white-blond hair he wore short and somewhat spiky. “Come in. Have a seat.” He indicated a nearby chair, then returned to the one behind his desk. “How can I help you?”

I sighed deeply, allowing my shoulders to slump. “I’ve left Jack.” Tears began to well up and spill down my cheeks. Chris stood and grabbed a box of tissues from a bookcase as he moved toward me. I took the entire box, saying, “Thank you,” as he sat in the chair next to mine.

“Oh, Goldie,” he said. “This is a part of my job I wish I never had to take part in. I know it hurts.”

I nodded, blowing my nose as daintily as I knew how, considering how stuffed it had suddenly become. “I’m not saying I want a divorce, but I do need to know what my rights are. I have to think about financial support . . . things like that.”

“Are you still at the house?”

“No. I’m staying with Olivia and Tony.”

“I see. So you left the house.”

“Yes.” I looked him in the eye. “Is that bad?”

“No, no.”

Chris stood and returned to his desk. “Goldie, is this because of Jack’s . . .”

“Affairs? Yes.”

“There’s been more than one?” He picked up a pen and began to scribble on the yellow legal pad.

“There’s been more than I can count. But,” I looked down at my hands, “for the first time, Jack’s seeing someone right here in Summit View.” I looked back up to find my new attorney looking back at me. “I just can’t live like this anymore.”

Chris nodded, returning his attention to the pad. “Goldie, you’ve been married how many years?”

“Since 1975.” I watched him make a notation on a yellow legal pad.

“Only one child?”

“Yes.” Another jotting of notes.

“Can you tell me what Jack’s annual salary is?”

I gave him the figure from last year’s taxes. It probably wasn’t anything close to what an attorney brought in, but it had kept us comfortable all these years.

“Have you ever worked outside the home since you were married, Goldie?”

“No,” I said, “but I’m going to start looking for a job as soon as I leave here.”

His head snapped to attention. “So this is serious enough for you to look for a job?”

I nodded. “It’s serious enough for me to leave home, move in with my daughter, and then come to see you.”

Chris leaned his forearms against the edge of the desk. “Had you ever worked before your marriage, Goldie?”

I nodded. “I waited tables in high school, then worked in a medical office for two years after that. Before I married Jack.”

He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, causing the roundness of his cheeks to become rounder still. “Would you be interested in working here? For me?” He sat up straight. “I know that’s not why you came here, but Jenna has finally decided to go off to college in January, and I’ll be in need of someone. We can work something out as far as my fee for representing you, and in addition I’ll pay you twelve dollars an hour. Six months and I’ll offer you a raise if you’re still working out for me.”

I swallowed. “I appreciate that, Chris. But I . . . I was also wondering about Jack financially supporting me . . .”

Chris chuckled. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Goldie. Jack’s going to have to support you. You’ve got too many years invested in the marriage for him not to. The law requires it.”

I sighed in relief. “Then I’d love to take you up on your offer.” I pressed my hand to my chest, felt my heart pounding beneath the surface. “I’m not trying to take Jack for all he’s worth, Chris.”

“I know that, Goldie.”

“But if I’m going to do this, I need to be able to support myself in every way possible.”

“Can you start on Monday—allowing Jenna to train you for a couple of months? You’ll be working Monday through Friday, 8:30 to 4:00. Wednesday’s are different, though. You’ll get off at noon. No weekends. How does that sound?”

I pressed my lips together, then smiled. “It sounds like a new beginning.”

43

A working woman
after all these years . . .

Clay walked into the card shop. His mother’s birthday was coming up, and he figured the least he could do was send her a card and maybe one of the little whatnots from the store. He and his mother had always been close, though they’d never showered each other with trinkets. But over the past couple of years he’d been able to give himself an A for effort in the gift-giving department.

Just as he entered, he saw Goldie Dippel coming through the door leading to the staircase, which led up to Chris Lowe’s office.
Interesting,
he thought.

“Mrs. Dippel,” he greeted her with a nod of his head and a dip of his cap.

“Clay!” She was visibly flushed.

He reached for a seasonal card and opened it, though he didn’t really read it. “You okay, Mrs. Dippel?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m doing quite well, actually.” She then smiled. “I just got a new job. Can you believe that? Me? Working after all these years?”

“I heard about you and Coach,” he said, replacing the card. “Sorry to hear it.”

Goldie Dippel touched his arm with her hand. “Don’t be,” she said. “I’d be sorrier to hear that I’d stayed.”

44

Hashing Out the Meeting

It was 7:00 in the morning, and I was dressed in my uniform and getting ready for work. Thoughts of Vonnie kept seeping into my mind as I spread my egg salad onto toasted whole-wheat bread. I knew I should feel sorry for her, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for me. Vonnie was like my mother, more than my mother, she was like an angel, so I had thought. And to see her without her halo made me feel as if life no longer held anything for me. I mean, it wasn’t wrong for her to marry Joseph Jewel. But it was wrong for her to keep it a secret from Fred, from me. In my opinion, that woman had been living a lie. And if Vonnie was a liar, then what was left? Truth? Ha! God? Humph. Nothing. Nothing was left. Learning of Vonnie’s double life made me feel as if hope had just left on the last train to sanity, a train I had missed.