Trouble's Brewing

by Linda Evans Shepherd; Eva Marie Everson

  Clay barely noticed. He was Clay Whitefield, ace reporter, and he’d seen it all.

  Earlier that day he’d received a call from his editor, asking him to drive over to the Pump ’N Go. There’d been a run of young people pumping and going and not paying. The owner thought it might be some kind of game implemented by some of the high schoolers. Clay was sent as an investigative reporter.

  When he’d seen Evangeline Benson driving her car into the parking lot of the tavern, he quickly postponed the interview and followed her. By the time he’d made it inside, she was standing in front of a table near the back, where the sheriff and the new barmaid in town had apparently been sitting.

  Clay slid along the wall so as to go unnoticed, inching his way close enough to hear what needed to be heard and stopping at the far corner of the bar.

  He let out a sigh when he’d heard the name Doreen Roberts, then closed his eyes against the pain he knew Donna would feel when she found out the truth about Dee Dee McGurk.

  As soon as Evie had stormed out, Clay dropped like a bowl of pudding into the nearest chair he could find. The bartender, an older man with a paunch just slightly bigger than his own, leaned over the bar. “Whatcha need?” he asked.

  Clay jerked his head toward him, then cut his eyes back over at the sheriff and his ex-wife—Donna’s mother.

  “Bud,” he said, then remembered his diet. “Make it a light,” he added, then sunk as low as he could, praying he’d go unseen.

  32

  Attempt to Defrost

  I awoke Tuesday morning feeling a sense of dread. I knew why. I hadn’t had quiet time with God in quite a while, not like I had when I was married to Jack and living at home.

  I instantly corrected myself. I am still married to Jack. I am still his wife. He is still my husband.

  I rolled over on my back and looked up at the ceiling in Olivia’s tiny guest bedroom, where I’d stayed since I’d had the nerve to leave her father after his latest affair. It was such a tiny little room, nothing like the bedroom I’d shared with Jack.

  One thing Jack had always done was give me carte blanche when it came to decorating our house. The loveliness of our home was something I had to admit I missed. The one place in the world I could call my own. That and my time alone with God early in the morning.

  Why had I let it go? What was stopping me from pushing myself up in bed, fluffing the pillows behind my back, opening my Bible, and spending time in prayer?

  I didn’t even have to search for the answer. In the quiet moments of my day I heard my heart clearly stating what my mind did not wish to hear. Or, maybe it was the other way around. Didn’t matter; bottom line was that my feelings for Van had gone further than they should.

  Chris had called me into his office just before Thanksgiving to have a “chat.”

  “I’m not your father, Goldie, and as your employer I hardly have any right to tell you what to do … how to live your life. But if you aren’t careful, you could easily jeopardize your divorce settlement.” He dipped his head a bit and studied me with his eyes. “That is, if you still want a divorce.”

  “That’s the plan,” I confirmed. “I don’t see me going back to Jack.”

  Chris cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on his desk. “What role does Van play in this?”

  I didn’t answer, in truth because I didn’t have an answer I thought he’d like to hear.

  “I see,” he said. “Listen, Goldie … and again, I’m not your father. But, I am a friend of Van Lauer. He’s a nice man. A fine attorney and a good father to his son. But he’s not marriage material, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I blushed. “No … I … no, I’m not thinking that.”

  Chris grimaced. “Uh-huh.”

  “But if he’s such a nice guy, why do you think …”

  “It’s not what I think. It’s what I know. I’ve known Van since we were in college. Since Mercedes died he’s dated more women than I can count.” He raised a palm to me. “Now, I don’t mean this in a hurtful manner, but there’s nothing in this … situation that would make me think this time is any different.”

  I’d wanted to die as I sat before a man I have such respect for. That evening, during another outing with Van, I drew up enough courage to broach the subject. “Van, I suppose you know that Chris is very concerned about our relationship … my divorce …”

  We had driven to Lake Dillon’s dam and reservoir to watch the sun make its daily descent behind the rise of a stretch of mountains and hills. We huddled against the chill in the air on a green wroughtiron observation bench just a few steps from a small monument and information plaque.

  “How do you feel about that, Goldie?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I … I think of you as a good friend, Van. We haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of.” I blushed appropriately. “There’s been nothing physical. Nothing physical at all.”

  “I have too much respect for you for that,” he said. “I’m not saying that if you weren’t still married I wouldn’t have been kissing you.” He winked sideways at me.

  I blushed again, felt the heat from my body rising enough to melt the thin layer of icy snow along the banks of the lake that, in a month or so, would be completely covered in nature’s thick white blanket. “Van,” I said coyly.

  He laughed. “I do have a good time teasing with you, Goldie.” He sobered. “Okay, let me just say this: Chris has known me for a long time. Seen me through some dark days, and he’s known me to date some young and foxy women.” He turned to look at me. “Those aren’t the kind of women I could ever ask to be a mother to my son, and I just couldn’t imagine anyone ever doing the job Mercedes would have done. But, my son is grown now, and it’s time for me to start doing some things for myself.” He reached up and brushed a loose curl from my cheek, and a tingle ran through me. “For now, I’m content to be your friend. If you and Jack work things out, well, that’s fine. If not, I’m thinking I’ll still be here.”

  I furrowed my brow. “But your practice is in—”

  “I don’t live that far away, Goldie. I’ll be here another couple of weeks or so. Let’s just take it day by day, shall we?”

  I agreed that we should. Of course, that conversation had taken place the day before Thanksgiving when Jack had joined the family at Olivia and Tony’s—the day he had nearly worn me out with his attempts at renewing, if nothing else, our physical relationship. It was also before the disastrous Potluck Club meeting I’d managed to duck out of so I could dash up to Breckenridge with Van for a day of fun, and it was also before going to the movies with him the night before.

  I heard Olivia padding through the house, down the hallway. Little Brook’s gleeful voice echoed, causing me to stretch skyward and hoist myself out of bed. From the living room, the sound of Attempt to Defrost K-Love wafted its good morning through the household. “I Choose You” by Point of Grace was playing. I hummed along as I tied my robe’s sash around my waist and slipped into my bedroom slippers, then opened the bedroom door and headed toward the kitchen.

  As soon as my grandson saw me, he ran into my arms. “Good morning, my little love,” I said, holding him close, squeezing him for all he was worth. I looked over his tiny shoulder to his mother—my only child—who was preparing the morning coffee. “Hello, my big love,” I said to her.

  She merely stared at me. I put Brook down as I said, “You want to watch some cartoons?”

  “Yes! Cartoons, cartoons, cartoons!”

  I reached for the remote control and turned on the television, then helped Brook settle in so I could go into the kitchen and make his breakfast, as was now my habit. I heard Tony shuffle into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Tony,” I said.

  “Good morning, Mom,” he said.

  Olivia sighed.

  I reached for a cereal bowl and a box of Cream of Wheat. “Olivia, I thought I’d make lazy beef stew for dinner tonight. I can come home during my lunch hour and prepare it, if you
don’t mind going to the grocery store this morning to get the ingredients.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “I’ll take an earlier lunch so it’ll have plenty of time to simmer.”

  “I love that stew,” Tony said, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. “Corn bread too?”

  I smiled in appreciation. “Corn bread too.”

  Olivia turned to me and put her fist on her hip. “So, does that mean you’re not going out again tonight?”

  “Olivia,” Tony said. “We talked about this.”

  Olivia turned on her husband. “This is between my mother and me, Tony.”

  He shook his head and walked toward the living room. “I gotta get ready to go.”

  I finished preparing Brook’s cereal in silence, then set it on the table. “Brook, come here, baby.”

  Brook rose obediently, and I helped him into his booster seat. I turned back to Olivia. “I’ll go get ready myself.”

  She jutted her chin forward. “I think you should know that I’ve invited Dad to have dinner with us tonight.”

  “What?”

  “He called last night while you were … out.”

  I crossed the room to where she stood. “Did he ask for me?”

  “Of course he did, Mom. He’s your husband.”

  “I know who he is.”

  “Do you?” She set her coffee cup on the counter, reached for a nearby dishcloth, and began to wipe an already clean countertop.

  I grabbed her arm, stopping her in her chore. “Yes, Olivia. I do.” I paused. “Where did you tell him I was?”

  “I didn’t. I don’t have the heart to hurt him.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” she repeated.

  “More than you know. I’m going to get ready for work. I’ll see you during lunch—if you’re here. If not, I’ll see you tonight. For dinner. With your father.”

  “Your husband.”

  I shook my head at her, then walked out of the room and toward the bedroom I knew I’d soon be leaving.

  During my coffee break that morning I scanned the weekly newspaper for rental apartments in the area. Most of them were way out of my price range, but a few were worth seeing. One was a condo on 6th near Main Street, which meant during the nice weather, I could walk to work. I called the number listed and made an appointment with the owner to swing by after work later in the day. “The carpet is kinda worn,” she said to me, “but otherwise it’s clean.”

  “Sort of like me,” I said with a laugh, but she didn’t laugh with me. I guess she didn’t get the simile.

  “No pets,” she said.

  “I have none.”

  “No parties.”

  “At my age?”

  “Didn’t know if it was for your college kid or something.”

  “No. It’s for me. Just me. And I promise not to party.” I laughed a little but basically got nothing in return. “I’ll see you a bit after 5:00,” I said. “That’s when I get off work, but I’m less than a block away.”

  “I’ll be there,” she said.

  I called Van on my cell phone after I’d gone home and prepared the stew for tonight’s dinner. When he answered, he sounded winded. “I’m riding the stationary bike I rented for while I’m here,” he said when I asked if he were having a heart attack or something.

  “Well, don’t stop,” I said, wondering what it must be like to have enough money to take a month’s vacation for just lazing around, skiing, dining out—whatever you wanted to do—without having to think or worry about the finances. Me, I was wondering how I’d come up with the first and last month’s rent the landlord of the condo was sure to require. “I just wanted to tell you that I may have found a place to live.”

  “Really?” he puffed.

  “Yeah. I’m going to go look at it after work today. It’s a condo about a block from work, which will be good because I can walk when the weather’s nice.”

  “You want me to go look at it with you? Check over the contract?”

  A contract? I hadn’t thought about that. “Sure. Sure, you can go with me if you’d like.”

  “Dinner afterward?”

  “Ah … no. Not tonight. Jack’s coming over to Olivia’s for dinner, and I guess I should be there.”

  Van didn’t answer right away, but I thought I heard the whirring from the bike slowing down. “I see.”

  “It’s something I have to do, Van. It doesn’t mean anything.” I pulled into my usual parking place at work.

  “It should, Goldie. The man is your husband. I guess I needed to be reminded of that.” He cleared his throat. “Where should I meet you after work?”

  “Ah … why not just be in the parking lot,” I said, looking around and slipping the car’s gearshift into park.

  “Sounds good. We’ll walk there.”

  I smiled both inwardly and outwardly. “Okay, then. I’ll see you at 5:00.”

  I could hardly wait for 5:00. Every few minutes I would glance up from my desk to the wall clock hanging over the waiting area love seat near the door. It seemed that time was ticking away at a slower pace than usual.

  But 5:00 finally came. I practically stumbled over my own two feet as I darted down the hall to the employee break room, where my coat hung waiting for me on the coat tree. I flung my arms into the sleeves, ducked my head into Chris’s office to say good-bye, then dashed down the stairs to the card shop, out the door, and into the parking lot. Van stood next to my car, leaning against the driver’s door with his legs crossed at the ankles.

  “There you are,” he said. “Right on time.”

  “Thank you for meeting me,” I said, tying a silk scarf around my neck. “We just have to walk that way a bit.” I pointed toward Main Street and 6th.

  “Then, let’s do it,” he said, pushing himself from his resting place.

  I looked up at him as we walked. “Thank you again, Van. I never even thought about contracts. I suppose I could show them to Chris, but since you offered …”

  Van came to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the card shop, reached out his hand a bit to stop me from stepping out into traffic. We looked both ways. A few cars were heading our way, but we had a clearing. We took deliberate steps as we crossed the road, then stepped up from the curb and onto the sidewalk on the other side.

  “What’s the rent?” he asked me. When I told him, he grimaced. “That’s steep. It’s none of my business, but can you afford it?”

  I shrugged. “Not really. I can’t really afford anything around here, and it’s the cheapest thing listed. Besides, I don’t see myself staying at Olivia’s much longer.” I looked at the buildings to our right, reading the numbers on their faces. I pointed. “Here it is,” I said. The condo was one of a four-unit building, painted a dull gray and sitting on the far right corner.

  A front door opened. A stocky woman with short, unbrushed brown hair stood before us. “Goldie Dippel?” she said.

  “That’s me,” I answered.

  “I take it this is Mr. Dippel? I thought you said you’d be a sole renter.”

  Van approached the woman with an outstretched hand. “Van Lauer. I’m a friend of Goldie’s.”

  The woman looked down at Van’s hand as though she’d never shaken one before, but she took it and said, “Lu Redford. Come on in.”

  For the next fifteen minutes we were escorted from one tiny room to another. Lu had been correct when she said the carpet was worn but equally as correct about it being clean. The kitchen appliances were a bit outdated but scrubbed spotless. And there was a view of the Summit Mountains from the upstairs bedroom that was absolutely breathtaking. I could just imagine myself waking every morning with them as my vista.

  When we’d made a complete tour and were back in the kitchen, Lu said, “First and last month’s rent up front,” then she quoted the rent again for good measure. She must have seen the grimace on my face because she then added, “Unless you want to work out a deal.”

 
“A deal? What kind of a deal?” Van asked.

  “My husband and I are wanting to move to Colorado Springs, where our children are living. I can hardly take care of these four units from over there, and none of the other tenants are interested. They’re not here but on the weekends anyway, so you’d pretty much have the whole thing to yourself except two days a week and maybe on holidays. If you’re interested in managing the building, I’d be willing to decrease your rent by one half.”

  “And the deposit?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I’m ready to get out of Summit View … so, if you say yes, we’ll say half of that too.”

  My heart soared. Was God shining down on me? Or, was the devil opening a door? The very thought made me take a breath, but before I could argue with myself, Van said, “Do you have a contract I can look at?”

  “I do,” Lu said, crossing the room to the counter where a briefcase rested.

  “Mr. Lauer is an attorney,” I said.

  Lu looked back at me. “Is that right? Well, Mr. Lauer, I think you’ll find this is standard.” She brought the contract to Van, who studied it for a few minutes. “It includes everything except what we just talked about, the new financial arrangements. I can have an addendum written up concerning our agreement in the morning.”

  “Looks good, Goldie. You’ll just have to make a decision.”

  I glanced down at my watch. It was nearing 6:00. Olivia had told me during my lunch break that her father would be arriving at 6:30. The very thought of the tension I’d be experiencing during the course of the evening was almost debilitating. “Where do I sign?” I asked.

  When I arrived at Olivia and Tony’s I saw that Jack’s car was already in the driveway. I frowned. It was just like him to be early when I needed him to be late. Goodness knows the man had always been late when I needed him to be on time.

  I entered the house through the front door to find him sitting on the sofa in the living room, Brook snuggled up to him as he read to our grandson from a little Rainbow book. A cup of coffee rested in front of him on the coffee table. When he looked up to see me standing there—looking flustered, I’m sure—he jumped up, nearly throwing Brook off the sofa. “Goldie,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”