Dating, Dining, and Desperation (A Dear Daphne Novel)

by Carlson, Melody

  Hugs and greetings were exchanged and Daphne quickly made introductions. “Sabrina, can you get them something to drink while I put the chicken on the barbecue? There’s lemonade and iced tea in the fridge.”

  “I’m on it,” Sabrina cheerfully assured her.

  As Daphne carried the platter of marinated chicken breasts outside, she was grateful for Sabrina joining them today. Not only was she a good conversationalist, she was a great buffer too. And for some reason whenever Karen was around, Daphne felt she needed a buffer. As she laid the chicken on the hot grill, she wondered what Aunt Dee would say about Dad and Karen. Would she suspect that Daphne was simply jealous and overprotective? Would she be supportive of what seemed a blooming romance? Perhaps Daphne needed to write to Dear Daphne for advice on this one.

  Back in the kitchen, the three of them were chatting merrily. As Daphne rinsed her hands, she heard Sabrina let out a little shriek. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “What a lovely piece of ice!”

  Confused, Daphne turned around to see Sabrina holding Karen’s left hand in her hand, staring at what appeared to be a very big engagement ring. “What?” Daphne glanced at Dad, but he just made a sheepish shrug. “Dad? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “As a matter of fact . . .” He chuckled. “I asked Karen to marry me last week. As you can see, she agreed.”

  “As usual, the master of understatement,” Karen teased him.

  “So . . . you . . . you’re really getting married, then?” Daphne said uneasily.

  “Yes. Karen wants to have the wedding in autumn,” Dad told her.

  “I was thinking early November would be fun,” Karen said. “A fall wedding with rich fall colors—golds and russets and plums. Don’t you think that would be pretty?”

  “That sounds absolutely beautiful,” Sabrina said. “I can just imagine the gorgeous flowers.”

  “It wouldn’t be a big wedding,” Karen explained. “We’re both beyond that at this stage of the game. But I’d like it to be pretty . . . and memorable.” She looked fondly at Dad. “I don’t plan on doing this again. Not anytime soon, that is.” She laughed.

  He grinned at her. “You just tell me when and where, Karen, and I’ll be there.” He turned to Daphne. “I didn’t mean to spring it on you quite like this. But I hope you’re as happy about it as I am.”

  “Yes,” she said a bit unsteadily. “Of course, I am. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Congratulations—to both of you.”

  “Oh my, November is not that far off,” Sabrina said to Karen. “Are you sure that’s enough time?”

  “I plan to send out a save-the-date note next week. If we can pinpoint the date.” Karen looked at Daphne. “Do you have any conflicts in November? Any trips planned?”

  Daphne shook her head as she poured dressing over the big bowl of green salad. “Not at all. I’ll be around.”

  “Oh good. Then I think I’ll go with the first Saturday of November.” Karen flipped through the calendar hanging on the fridge, then took a pen and circled the day. “There. That way you won’t forget.”

  “Daphne wouldn’t forget her own father’s wedding,” Dad said.

  “No, of course not.” Daphne pasted a bright smile onto her face. “I thought we could move this outside. I’ve set the backyard table for lunch. It’s lovely out there in the shade.”

  She led her small procession out to the backyard. This was good news. Really, it was. She had often worried about Dad being alone in his old age. Of course, that was when she lived far off in New York. But even so, she was happy for him. She really was! Really.

  Chapter 9

  Daphne had never enjoyed feeling confused. Even as a child, she’d gone to great lengths to eliminate the underlying causes of confusion—demons like chaos and disorder and uncertainty. Whether it was laying out her clothes for school the night before, or writing the weekly menu plan for her and Dad, she was usually on top of it. These habits continued into adulthood. Sometimes to the extent that she worried she might be a borderline control freak or even suffer from OCD.

  However, she’d felt much more relaxed since coming to Appleton. And really, she made significant strides in the art of “letting go.” She’d even started to think of herself as fairly laid-back. Until recently that is. Recently she’d been concerned that she was returning to her old ways.

  So as she often did, she wrote a letter to Dear Daphne. Oh, she was fully aware of the foolishness of these letters—at least to someone who wouldn’t understand. And although she was thinking of Aunt Dee when she wrote the responses, Aunt Dee was not communicating to her from the grave. But to her these letters were cathartic and therapeutic. And they always went into a special private file for her eyes only.

  Dear Daphne,

  For some reason I feel as if a fuzzy blanket of confusion is lying upon me. I am wishy-washy and torn over the simplest of choices. This morning it took me thirty minutes to make up my mind whether I wanted eggs or granola with yogurt. Eventually I settled for a piece of toast. It’s like my mind is muddled and confused. At first I thought it was because I was recently disappointed in love. Then I thought it was because my dad’s getting married. Now I wonder if I’m just putting too much pressure on myself to find Mr. Right and get married too. Please advise.

  Befuddled and Bewildered

  Dear B & B,

  Assuming your condition isn’t medically related (and I have reason to believe this is true), I encourage you to take a quick inventory of yourself. Are you feeling anxious? Anxiety can lead to confusion. If you’re anxious, ask yourself what’s behind it. Often anxiety is simply feeling like you’ve lost control of a situation. Perhaps that’s how you feel about your broken relationship, as well as your father’s upcoming marriage. You also mention that you feel “torn,” which sounds as if you’re divided in some way. The Bible describes a double-minded person as very unstable—think train wreck. If your anxiety stems from being unable to control things, focus on what you can actually control. The list is usually very short. You can control things like what you eat for breakfast or whether to take a walk—in other words, you control yourself. But you cannot control other people. Not even God does that! The sooner you accept this lack of control, the less confused you will be.

  Daphne

  She saved the letters in her private file, then taking her own advice, she did something within her control. She went for a walk. She wasn’t really sure where she was going, but after a few minutes she decided to walk to town and pick up a few things. With her basil coming in so well, she longed for some linguini with pesto.

  “Hello, Truman,” she said as she went into The Apple Basket. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good.” He grinned from behind the counter. “But I haven’t seen much of you lately. Where you been hiding yourself?”

  “I haven’t been in as much because my garden’s been providing so well.” She told him about her canning day with Mrs. Terwilliger. “My pantry looks like I’m set for winter.”

  He made a mock frown. “Pretty soon you won’t need me at all.”

  “No way. Just so you know, I’ve given up canning. And I’m not into growing and grinding my own wheat yet. Or making homemade olive oil. Or growing pine nuts.”

  He laughed. “That might be a challenge.”

  “Which is why I’m here. I’ve got lots of basil and—”

  “You are making pesto!” he finished. “And if you need some olive oil, you should try this.” He held up a dark bottle. “I just started carrying some of this extra-virgin stone-pressed oil from Italy that’s really special. Want a sample?”

  They were talking about gardens and food and recipes, and Truman told her about a veggie quiche he’d made for his mom’s bunko club. “It was killer, if I do say so myself.”

  She smacked her lips. “You are going to make some lucky girl a fine husb
and someday, Truman Walters.”

  He gave her a sly grin. “And how about you?”

  She tried not to act shocked—was he flirting with her? Or had she simply misunderstood? “Well . . . uh . . . yes,” she stammered, “I might make some man a good wife someday too. Although not everyone is as appreciative of cooking as you and me.” She smiled as he handed her the receipt.

  “Enjoy that pesto,” he called out as she was leaving.

  “Thanks. And I’ll bring you in some of that surplus basil too.”

  Next she went to Bernie’s Blooms to see if Olivia was around. “She’s making a delivery,” Stella told her as she set a tall bucket of sunflowers next to the front door. “She should be back soon.”

  “I’ll just look around while I wait,” Daphne said.

  “Sure.” Stella pointed to a table near the counter. “Check out the new linens we just got in. They’re really retro. Straight out of the forties and fifties.”

  As Daphne was perusing the linens, gathering a small collection for her kitchen as well as some for a housewarming gift for Sabrina, Olivia came into the shop. “Hey, Daph, I was just thinking of you.” Olivia reached out for a hug. “I hope we’re still friends.”

  “Of course we’re still friends.” Daphne frowned. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  Olivia gave her a half smile, then turned to call out for Stella. “Can you manage the shop for a while longer? I want to take Daphne to lunch.” She peered at Daphne. “If that’s okay with you? I mean it is lunchtime.”

  Daphne laughed. “You’re right, it is. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

  “No problem,” Stella called out as she emerged from the back room.

  “Eat my leftover pasta, if you want,” Olivia told her. “It’s in the fridge.”

  “Thanks.” Stella reached out for the linens in Daphne’s arms. “Want me to hang on to those until you come back?”

  “Sure.” Daphne handed them over.

  “Midge’s okay?” Olivia asked as they went out the door.

  “Perfect.”

  “Good.” Olivia linked her arm into Daphne’s as they crossed the street. “I’m really sorry for how I laid into you the other night.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. Jeff overheard me and after I hung up, he assured me that I was perfectly horrible to you.”

  “Oh . . . you were just concerned.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you’re so gracious.” She nodded to an outdoor table. “Want to sit out here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  After they were seated, Ricardo came out. “Hello, ladies.” He smiled at them, then looked directly at Daphne. “You’re both looking lovely today.”

  Olivia laughed. “You must have overlooked me, Ricardo. I am a mess.”

  Daphne looked more closely at Olivia. With her pale face and dark shadows beneath her eyes, combined with her faded T-shirt and old jeans, she wasn’t really looking her best.

  “You are always lovely, Olivia,” Ricardo assured her.

  Olivia shrugged. “Anyway, you’re right about Daphne. She does look good, doesn’t she?”

  Ricardo nodded but looked slightly embarrassed as he handed them their menus. “Would you like beverages?”

  They told him their order and he nodded with a stiff smile. “I’ll send Kellie out to take your order.” He peered at Daphne. “You will not have to wait forever this time.”

  She just laughed. “That’s okay. Olivia and I have some catching up to do.”

  His smile grew more natural. “Thanks.”

  As he went inside, Olivia tilted her head toward the door. “Now seriously, Daph. What is wrong with that guy? If I wasn’t happily married, I’d be going after him myself. And I saw him looking at you. Can’t you tell he likes you? I know he wants to ask you out. But it seems like you’re always unavailable. And trust me, he knows it.”

  “Oh my.” Daphne took in a big breath. “That’s a lot to take in.”

  Olivia looked sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. Good grief, that is exactly why I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry for being so over-the-top the other night. And I want to explain what’s—”

  “Here you go, kiddos.” Kellie set their drinks on the table with a big smile. “Ready to order yet?”

  They scrambled a bit, trying to figure out what they wanted, but before long Kellie was on her way. “She seemed extra attentive,” Daphne observed.

  “Yeah. Ricardo probably read the riot act to her last week.”

  Daphne studied Olivia as she took a sip of her iced tea. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked as she set the glass down.

  Olivia let out a long sigh. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  Daphne remembered how Olivia’s older sister Bernadette had been struck down with cancer several years ago. “What’s wrong?” Daphne asked in a weak voice.

  “Nothing is really wrong,” Olivia said quietly. “I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather the past couple of weeks.”

  “Have you been to the doctor?”

  She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

  “But what if it’s—”

  “I took an EPT last week.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a home pregnancy test.”

  “Oh?” Daphne felt a surge of hope.

  She nodded. “Yep. I am. I took the test several times. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” Daphne remembered her best friend Beverly back in New York . . . and how she was pregnant too. And how her pregnancy had pushed Daphne to the back burner. Still, Daphne didn’t want to go there. Remember, you cannot control this.

  “It is wonderful,” Olivia said. “Jeff is over the moon.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “But I’ve been a mess.” Olivia frowned.

  “Why?”

  “At first I thought I had some kind of summer flu. But it was only in the morning, then I was pretty much okay.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  She nodded. “And then I’ve had these crazy mood swings.” She held up her hands helplessly. “Which I think is why I went off on you that night at The Zeppelin and then later on the phone.”

  “Oh, now that you mention it, it did seem odd. Out of character.”

  “My hormones have been running amuck on me.”

  “Well, all is forgiven, Olivia.” Daphne smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “I’m happy too.” Olivia shook her head. “That is when I’m not having a crying jag.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

  “It should get better soon. They say it doesn’t usually last beyond the first trimester.”

  “When’s the baby due?”

  “First week of March.” Olivia lowered her voice as a couple sat at the table nearest them. “But we’re keeping it under our hats. Even our parents don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m honored you told me.”

  “Jeff said I should, in order to explain my craziness the other night.” She laughed. “It was bizarre, like I thought I was your mother or something—trying to protect you from the Aussie boys. Later on that night, I had a good cry over it.”

  Daphne reached over to pat Olivia’s hand. “Thanks. I really appreciate that you love me that much.”

  Ricardo brought their food out to them, carefully arranging it on the table, then remaining for a long moment. “It’s good to see you two together,” he finally said. “Something comforting about old friendships that survive the years. You know?”

  “I do know,” Daphne said.

  Olivia nodded.

  “Well, enjoy.” He gave her a slightly sad smile as he tipped his head and left. “Bon appétit.”
/>   “Was that odd?” Daphne asked Olivia after he was gone.

  Olivia frowned. “Yeah . . . sort of. Did Ricardo seem unhappy to you?”

  “Maybe . . . a little.”

  “I’ll have to ask Jeff to talk to him, see what’s going on.”

  “Maybe Kellie’s driving him nuts,” Daphne said in a joking tone.

  Olivia laughed. “You could be right.”

  As Daphne walked home from town, she was thinking about Ricardo. Was it possible Olivia was right? Could Ricardo have some interest in her? Or was there another reason he was feeling blue? She walked slowly by his mother’s house. She hadn’t seen much of Maria recently. Was she having some health problems?

  As Daphne reached her own yard, she peered into the free produce box to see there were still a few items in it. Had Maria been by? And if not, why not? If anyone in the neighborhood enjoyed cooking, it was Maria. So Daphne dropped off her groceries on the porch, then went back to the garden to fill a basket with some surplus produce. She marched it down the street to the Martoni home and knocked on the door.

  “Daphne!” Maria Martoni said happily. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “I brought you some things from my garden.”

  “Oh, you dear girl.” Maria peered into the basket. “How beautiful. Thank you so much!”

  “I’ve had the free-produce box in my front yard,” Daphne explained, “but I haven’t noticed you picking anything up. I thought perhaps you were under the weather or something.”

  “Oh no, I’ve been fine. Just a little housebound lately. I’ve been working on a quilting project.”

  “You’re a quilter?”

  “I’m still learning. I took it up several years ago. Would you like to see my current project?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Maria led her through the dimly lit house. It looked exactly as Daphne remembered since childhood. From the crucifix on the wall by the stairs to the forest-green floral furnishings in the front room. “I turned the downstairs bedroom into my quilting room.” Maria opened the door to a bright and inviting room. “Better light in here.”

  “I can see that.”