The Sunday Potluck Club

by Melissa Storm

  Hazel shook her head as she hopped down from the small, plastic chair she’d been using as a step stool. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s been hard for me hanging back, but Keith says that I need to give each of you time to figure things out for yourself.”

  “Keith’s a smart guy.”

  “And you’re a tough girl,” Hazel countered with a wink.

  Amy basked in the unexpected compliment. Hazel was right, though. Amy was tough. She’d been made stronger by all the difficult things she’d faced this past year. She was still standing, when it would have been so easy to sink through the floor and disappear.

  That had to count for something.

  Perhaps, it counted for everything.

  Chapter 10

  Amy’s plans for a quiet Saturday were upset before she even had a chance to get out of bed. An insistent pounding at her front door forced her to leave the warmth of her comforter behind as she padded toward the front of the house, then flung the door open, fully ready to wage war with whatever solicitor or evangelist stood waiting on her porch.

  Instead, she found Bridget, who was a strange mixture of both lately.

  “Whoa, that’s some bedhead you’ve got there,” her friend said with a giggle, reaching up to smooth Amy’s blond curls.

  Amy groaned and swiped at Bridget’s hands. “Yeah, because I was sleeping.”

  Bridget only laughed at Amy’s irritation. “Well, wake up! We have a busy day ahead of us.”

  “What? Why?” She didn’t know what Bridget had planned, but whatever it was, she doubted it would line up with how she actually wanted to spend her Saturday morning. As much as she loved the girl, slamming the door in her face and heading back to bed seemed mighty tempting right about then.

  Bridget shook her head and sighed. “Have you really forgotten about the poor shelter animals already?”

  Amy didn’t know how to respond to this, so she didn’t say anything at all. There were only two possible answers. The first would get her voluntold for whatever new job Bridget had in mind, while the other would just upset her all over again. Yup, it was better to keep quiet instead.

  “Get dressed,” Bridget urged. “Hazel’s waiting in the car, but we still have to go pick up Nichole.”

  Amy glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with Hazel, who waved from the driver’s seat of her new SUV. Something brown moved behind her, and Amy squinted in an attempt to figure out what it was.

  “Why is there a dog in Hazel’s car?” Amy demanded, placing a hand on her hip the way she did when one of her students was being naughty.

  “Actually,” Bridget said with a grin. “There are four. One for each of us.”

  “What? Bridget, no. Belle is not going to like this,” she said pathetically, referring to the old cat who spent most of her days sleeping on a folded-up afghan on the back of Amy’s couch.

  “Relax,” her friend said with an exaggerated eye roll. “We’re just going on a little walk is all.” She shrugged, mischief twinkling in her dark eyes. “However, if you fell in love and decided to adopt all four, that would put me closer to my goal of finding homes for all fourteen shelter dogs by Valentine’s Day.”

  Amy rubbed at the back of her neck. She needed to wake herself up before she agreed to something she really didn’t want to do. “Um, maybe I could adopt a kitten instead?” she offered as a quick compromise.

  “Nope, someone else is overseeing the cat adoptions. I’m now one hundred percent devoted to these dogs,” Bridget proclaimed. Apparently her friends were now hopelessly devoted, too.

  “Just a walk, right?” Amy asked, resigned now to her fate. “No pressure for anything else.”

  “None,” Bridget promised with a rapid shake of her head. “Just a tiny, little walk. Four friends and four dogs who need a friend. What better way to spend a Saturday? Huh?”

  Amy could think of lots of better ways to spend her day, but Bridget was so earnest and obviously needed her emotional support, whether she was ready to admit that or not. “Fine. Let me go get dressed,” she said.

  “Wear comfortable shoes!” Bridget called after her.

  Half an hour later, they’d also collected Nichole, and now everyone was on their way to the park. Of course, winter in Alaska was not the best time to be spending large amounts of time outdoors, but Amy supposed the dogs needed the exercise and fresh air just as much as any human who’d been cooped up too long indoors.

  “Why are we doing this?” Nichole groaned as they exited the SUV and a cold blast of wind crashed into them unforgivingly.

  “It’s part of Bridget’s mission to find all the dogs homes before Valentine’s Day,” Amy explained, grabbing the leash of the smallest of the canines that had accompanied them on this outing. The fat beagle seemed excited to be outside, even though he looked as if he didn’t much care for exercise itself.

  “What mission?” Nichole asked, struggling to hold back a boxer-pit bull mix as he attempted to pull her across the ice.

  “Sorry, Nic,” Bridget called. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you yet. That’s part of the reason for today. I have updates for all of you.”

  Nichole’s face fell, and Amy wondered whether there might be some secret drama of which she herself hadn’t been informed. Her peacemaker tendencies immediately jumped into action.

  “It’s a nice day for a walk,” she said, perhaps a bit too optimistically. “Look, the paths are shoveled and ready for us.” She pulled ahead and clucked for the beagle to follow her.

  “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” she asked when the others had fallen into step behind her.

  “That’s Darwin,” Bridget explained. “His owners were retired biology professors, but when they died, nobody in the family would take him in. So, he ended up with us. He’s been at the shelter for close to a year, and I’m starting to worry that if he doesn’t get adopted soon, he just may die without ever finding a home.”

  Well, that was grim. Poor thing.

  “Oh, you poor baby!” Hazel cooed. “You seem like such a nice dog.”

  “He is,” Bridget said with a sad smile. “They all are. They just need someone—or someones—to give them a chance.”

  “You don’t mean—” Nichole started, but Amy was quick to cut her off.

  “What’s that guy’s story?” she asked, motioning toward the massive black and brown dog that walked beside Hazel.

  “That’s Rosco. About a year ago, he was bought to become a guard dog, but he really doesn’t have an aggressive bone in his body. When the owners decided he wasn’t worth the cost of feeding him, they tried to sell him through the online classifieds, but luckily our team was able to convince them to hand him over to the shelter instead. He’s been with us for about three months now.”

  Far longer than Bridget had been volunteering. Three months ago, Amy’s mother was still alive. Bridget’s, too.

  Three months seemed like nothing.

  One by one, Bridget rattled off each dog’s story, each more heartbreaking than the last. “So, what do you think?” she asked the other women after she’d finished explaining each dog’s history.

  “Well, it’s really sad,” Hazel said, swiping at tears with her mittened hands.

  Bridget seemed pleased with herself. “I’m putting all this info into their dating profiles. Do you think it will help them find homes?”

  “Dating profiles?” Nichole asked with a smirk. “I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing here.”

  “It’s not,” Bridget answered without so much as a backward glance toward Nichole. “But it’s part of the theme I came up with for our big Valentine’s Day adoption event. I’m calling it Date-a-Rescue Dog, and it’s modeled on speed dating. Everyone who comes will rotate so that they get a chance to meet each dog that’s been picked as a possible match for them. That way, people aren’t restricted by their preconceived notions. Maybe they’ll end up falling in love with a dog they wouldn’t have even requested to see.”
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br />   “I really like that,” Amy said with an encouraging smile. She still believed Bridget was taking on too much, but there was also no denying she’d come up with a great way to help the dogs.

  “Me, too,” Hazel added. “I bet it will help a lot of the dogs find great homes.”

  “No,” Bridget said sharply. “It has to be all of them. They all deserve to find homes, and I’ll make sure that they do.”

  “But, Bridget, finding any of them homes would be a huge win. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing,” Amy said, falling back so that she could walk side by side with her friend.

  “That’s what losers say,” Bridget said with a scowl, her earlier mirth wiped clean away. “Don’t you understand their lives are on the line? If we don’t fight for them, who will?”

  Hazel changed the topic to ease the tension, but Amy continued to weigh Bridget’s words in her mind as they walked.

  If we don’t fight for them, who will?

  That’s what they had done for each of their parents. They’d fought hard and lost. She understood why failure was no longer an option for Bridget.

  It was the same way she felt about her new student Olivia.

  Chapter 11

  That week, it was Nichole’s turn to host their potluck get-together. To prepare, Amy spent the entire afternoon baking—cookies, muffins, lemon bars, all of their favorite comfort foods. By the time evening arrived, it looked as if a powdered sugar keg had exploded right in the middle of her kitchen, but the messy scene smelled heavenly.

  Running low on time now, Amy figured she could worry about cleaning up later. It was freeing to leave the mixing bowls and baking sheets soaking in the sink for once; it made her normally sterile house feel a bit more lived-in.

  She sang to herself as she searched the linen closet for containers a little nicer than her usual Tupperware. There, she found a few small woven baskets and a stack of rarely used cloth napkins. They would be perfect for dressing up small gift baskets for each of her friends. Heavens knew she didn’t need all these sweets here at home as they waited out her willpower.

  After arranging everything to her liking, she wove a colorful ribbon through the wicker at the top of each basket, then tied it off in a series of beautiful bows. The others often joked that Amy’s domesticity was wasted on them, but she didn’t see it that way at all. Whom could she spoil with these small comforts if not her dearest friends?

  At last satisfied with her work, she shimmied out of her apron and went to tidy her appearance a bit before heading out for the evening. She felt as if she needed something more than jeans and a blouse tonight, so Amy decided to add a pair of decadent pink pearl earrings that had once been her mother’s most prized possession.

  Whenever Amy thought back to memories of her mother, she always envisioned her wearing these pearls. Of course, her mother hadn’t worn them every day while Amy was growing up, but it was enough that the earrings had fused with Amy’s mental picture of her mom. In fact, her earliest memory included those earrings as well. She’d been three and decorating sugar cookies at her mother’s side while those iridescent pink globes sat proudly against her earlobes.

  Amy had originally planned to bury her mother with them, but her mom had insisted that Amy hang on to them for herself so she could one day pass them on to a daughter.

  Daughter, huh.

  Amy was nearly thirty and still didn’t have a single husband prospect. She wasn’t sad about it, either. She’d once thought the man she’d been dating when her mother first received her diagnosis could be the one. But as the appointments wore on and the tears kept flowing, he slowly backed out of the picture. He’d only loved a certain version of Amy—and when the circumstances changed, so did he.

  At least she now knew she was better off without him. Back then, though, the rejection had cut deep.

  Betrayal, that was something else she and her mother had in common.

  Her mother had once been a proud homemaker. Amy knew she would have loved to pack their house full of children, but it was never meant to be. The doctors had said her parents were lucky to have had even the one child, that Amy was their little miracle. Years later, when Amy’s father walked out on them, her mother had never found it in herself to remarry. She’d been forced to take a job as an administrative assistant at Amy’s school to support the two of them.

  Even though the other kids teased her, Amy never minded having her mother near. It became the two of them against the world. Until, suddenly, years later, it wasn’t, and Amy was left without any family to call her own.

  Thank goodness for her friends.

  Together, they’d formed a found family. Hazel was now the only other orphan like Amy. Sure, Amy’s father was out there living it up somewhere, but she preferred to pretend he wasn’t.

  Instead, she’d pour her love into taking care of those who deserved it—like her students and her friends. That’s what she’d been missing all this time, that’s why she couldn’t move on past her grief. A huge part of it was missing her mother, but an equally sizable reason was the simple fact that Amy felt useless once her round-the-clock caregiving was no longer needed. One day her entire world had revolved around tending to her mother, and the next she was summarily dismissed—never to be needed again.

  This past week, though, she’d realized she was still needed by the others in her life. Amy’s life didn’t have to be over just because it had changed yet again.

  And she felt stronger now, wearing her mother’s earrings, as if a tiny part of the woman she loved so dearly was still with her as she navigated her day. Perhaps these powerful little pearls might become a permanent fixture in her own wardrobe as well.

  This was what she thought as she ferried her gift baskets over to Nichole’s for the weekly get-together with her friends. Amy was the first to arrive for their potluck, but Nichole did not appear happy to see her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, after she’d brought all her goodies inside.

  “Bridget,” Nichole said with a scowl. “She just texted to say she’s not coming.”

  “Oh, why? Is everything okay?” She set her baskets on the counter and turned her full attention to Nichole.

  “She’s mad at me,” the other woman admitted with an exasperated shake of her head.

  Amy stepped forward and placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Talking’s what got me into this mess to begin with.”

  Amy waited for her to say more. Nichole wasn’t the type of person who could be forced into anything. She’d tell Amy if she wanted to.

  Nichole took a deep breath through her nostrils. “After the funeral and our talk in the car, I decided to confront Bridget about the way she was handling things.”

  Amy sucked air in through her teeth. “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah, she basically told me off. Said I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion.”

  “Because your dad didn’t—?”

  “No, because it was up to Bridget and only Bridget to make decisions for herself.”

  Amy shrugged. “I guess that’s fair.”

  Nichole suddenly became very interested in the tile pattern on her floor, keeping her eyes low as she spoke. “I probably should have stopped there, but I didn’t. I told her that as her friend I couldn’t stand by and watch her hurt herself. Then she said maybe I shouldn’t be her friend anymore.”

  Amy wrapped her arms around Nichole. “I am so sorry. That was totally unfair of her.”

  “I told you,” Nichole murmured into Amy’s hair. “I told you I didn’t belong anymore.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Amy promised.

  Nichole sighed. “She’ll just write you off, too.”

  “If she does, she does. But it’s not fair for her to lash out at you when you’re just trying to help. We all are.”

  “Hey, what’s going on in here?” Hazel asked, appearing in Nichole’s kitchen and regarding them each with a questioning look. “Starting wi
thout me?”

  “Bridget’s mad at Nichole,” Amy explained. “She said she’s not coming tonight.”

  “Oh, Bridget.” Hazel sighed. “She’s mad at life right now, but she’ll come around.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Nichole asked, her voice low and deep.

  “Because . . . everyone grieves differently, but I went through this, too.”

  Amy shook her head. “You never froze us out like this.”

  “No,” Hazel agreed. “I did it to Keith. That man is a saint for all he put up with. But that’s how I know Bridget will be fine, if we give her the time.”

  “I wish there was something more we could do,” Amy said, worrying her lip as she thought.

  “There is,” Nichole said, looking from one friend to another. “We can help her with this rescue mission of hers. Even if her motives are a bit warped, she’s trying to accomplish something good here.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Hazel said, rubbing her hands together.

  “It’s not like she’d let us get off not helping, anyway,” Amy added.

  “Okay,” Nichole said decisively. “Let’s give it all we’ve got.”

  Chapter 12

  Amy’s students oohed and aahed as they filtered into her classroom Monday morning.

  “It’s so pretty!” the girls cried as they stormed the window to run their hands over the shiny satin drapings.

  “That angel guy is wearing a diaper,” one of the boys said, pointing at the framed pictures of Cupid and bursting into giggles.

  Hazel had really outdone herself. Now Amy’s classroom looked like the inside of a genie’s bottle or perhaps an old-fashioned love canal ride. Despite the almost distracting nature of their bold new look, Amy’s students loved what Hazel had done for them. Well, all except one.

  “Do you like the way our room looks?” Amy asked Olivia with a friendly smile. Instead of answering, the little girl looked as if she might cry, so Amy let her be as she guided the class through their next lesson.

  When lunchtime arrived, Amy rummaged through each of the student’s Friday folders, hoping to find a response from Olivia’s parents regarding the letter she’d sent home on Friday. Sure enough, there was a hastily scrawled note tucked into Olivia’s folder. Amy quickly scanned the big, blocky letters: I’ll come by after school today to discuss.