The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 8
Debbie laughed. “I agree. Although it’s not really something Gwen is going to do. Is it?”
“No, that’s true. She’s the peacemaker of the group.”
When they arrived at Gwen’s big house, Joanna stepped out of the car with the realisation that she hadn’t gotten anxious on the drive over. The anxiety hit her then as she made her way to Gwen’s front door. But she couldn’t help being a little proud of herself and worked hard to ignore the building dread in her gut.
When Gwen opened the door for them, Joanna hurried inside and felt the anxiety fade. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Did it hurt?”
Gwen nodded, her lips pulled taut. “It was so painful. Thankfully, everyone was there to help. The ambulance didn’t take long, and they had this lovely whistle they gave me that made me loopy but really helped with the pain.”
They all laughed at that.
“I’m glad it helped,” Debbie said. “Now, you shouldn’t be on your feet. Come on—let’s go to the lounge room and get you a seat. Then Joanna and I can wait on you.”
“That would be a nice change,” Gwen said. “Duncan went to play golf this morning and left me to my own devices. I had to try to give myself a bath—that didn’t go well. And then, to make myself breakfast. I’m still a bit hungry and thirsty, to be honest. I had to sit down for a while to recover after my bowl of cereal.”
“You sit, and we’ll take care of you,” Joanna said as they helped Gwen into her favourite armchair. “Also, I brought you and Duncan a lamb casserole with cornbread for dinner, so you don’t have to make anything.”
“Oh, thank you. That is very thoughtful.”
Once Joanna had put away the food in the refrigerator and Debbie had made them all a cup of tea and a slice of hummingbird cake she found on the counter, they headed back into the lounge room. They all sat in armchairs and ate the cake, sipped the tea and talked about Gwen’s experiences the day before.
“I’m sorry your family didn’t think to take better care of you,” Joanna said. “Next time, just call us. We’ll be there in a flash.”
“I can’t believe I skipped our monthly brunch for this.” She waved a hand at her big blue boot.
“We had a nice time,” Joanna said. “But it wasn’t the same without you.”
“We ate Bangladeshi food,” Debbie said. “Not my favourite.”
“Hey!” Joanna objected.
“You did a great job,” Debbie said with a laugh. “But it’s just not my style. Sorry.”
“I guess that’s okay. We all have our preferences.”
Joanna looked at Gwen. She seemed so sad. She was staring at the empty plate in her hands. Joanna reached out to take it from her and set it on the coffee table.
“You okay, hon?”
“Not really. I’m at the end of my rope with Duncan. I should’ve asked him about the perfume. But I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say.”
Debbie reached out to squeeze her hand. Gwen looked up at her with a grateful smile.
“What if he says he’s in love with someone else? Or that it’s over? I don’t have anything without him. This house, our family—it’s all I’ve got. If I leave him, what will I do?” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Are you thinking of leaving?” Joanna asked.
She nodded. “I have to. I can’t stand him right now. Can’t stand hearing his voice, looking at him. I’m so angry with him. He abandoned me at that hospital all alone for four hours when I was high on painkillers and had a broken ankle. I was scared, and they left me lying there for so long. I didn’t know what was going on. I had to pee, and I was hungry and thirsty. There was no one there for me.” She sniffled. “Am I being unfair?” She looked from Joanna to Debbie with the question written on her face.
Joanna shook her head. “You’re not being unfair.” She was angry too. Angry that Duncan would treat his wife that way after everything she’d done for him over the years.
“I’m so sorry that happened,” Debbie said. “Maybe you two need a little space from one another. Don’t make any rash decisions yet. But you could take a break. Come and stay with me for a night or two. Give yourself a little room to breathe.”
Gwen wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “That actually sounds good.”
Chapter Sixteen
Debbie tiptoed to the door of the guest room and peeped inside. The room was decorated in the modern style with a grey quilted bed, silver bedside lamps and blue curtains that matched the blue print wallpaper on the opposite wall. Gwen was already awake, sitting up in bed with a book in her hands. Her greying hair was mussed. She had dark smudges beneath her eyes. She looked tired. She smiled at Debbie, who yawned.
“Did you sleep okay?” Debbie asked.
Gwen nodded. “This bed is divine. Thanks so much for having me. This is just what I needed. To get away for a little bit, get some space, think.”
“You’re so welcome. I’m going to make some breakfast. Do you have any requests?”
“Anything would be amazing. But don’t go to any trouble.”
Debbie smiled. “I love cooking. Don’t you know that?”
Gwen laughed. It was common knowledge in the group that Debbie never cooked. But maybe it was time things changed. She’d enjoyed making the roast the other night, even if it had been a waste of energy. But Gwen was here at her condo, and she wanted to do whatever she could to help her friend feel better, so she’d decided to tackle French toast. It couldn’t be too hard. And besides, it would give her something to do.
It was Monday and she’d usually be at work, but she had the day off. And she was still struggling to find things to do with her time when she wasn’t working. She had a lot of workaholic habits to break, and it was going to take a while to get used to this new phase of life.
She helped Gwen out of bed. Her friend assured her that she could manage on her own from there, so she went to the kitchen to get started on breakfast while Gwen washed up in the bathroom and got changed.
When Gwen joined her in the kitchen and sat down on one of the bar stools, Debbie was already frying French toast, her iPad stowed in the recipe book holder, recipe displayed on the screen.
“What are you making?” Gwen asked.
“French toast. I hope you like it.”
“It smells divine. My stomach is growling.” Gwen laughed. “Since when did you become Debbie Homemaker?”
Debbie rolled her eyes. “You know I’m Little Miss Domestic.”
“Oh, that’s right. I totally forgot all about your love of cooking.”
“Fifty plus years of friendship and you don’t know me at all,” Debbie quipped with a wink.
Gwen giggled. Then she sighed. “I am really grateful for your friendship. I hope you know that. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jo.”
“Right back at ya,” Debbie said. And she meant it. Gwen and Joanna were the reason she’d managed to navigate most of the difficulties of life the way she had. Them and Caleb. And now Caleb was pulling away from her. Even thinking about that made her heart ache. She cleared her throat. “Speaking of which, I think my marriage might be over.”
“Oh, no,” Gwen replied. “Why do you say that? What’s happened?”
“Caleb has no time for me. He’s already at work this morning.”
“I thought I heard him leave,” Gwen said.
“Yes, he leaves early and comes home late. The other night, he said he’d be coming home, and I made a beautiful roast. He ate at work and didn’t answer his phone. Then when he got home, he barely apologised and went to watch a sports game. I tried to join him, but he basically ignored me. I don’t know what’s wrong. He won’t talk about it.”
“Have you tried asking him?” Gwen’s face was written with concern.
“Probably not hard enough. I keep giving him space to speak up, but maybe I need to ask him outright.”
“I think you should. Men don’t always know what we’re thinking, if we don’t say something.”
Debbie scooped the golden fried toast onto plates, then carried them to the dining table. Gwen followed. She helped Gwen into a chair, then returned to the kitchen to get butter, syrup, yoghurt and some fresh tropical fruit, including mango, peaches and pawpaw she’d sliced earlier.
She sat at the table as Gwen piled her plate high with toast, yoghurt and fruit.
“Of course, I should take my own advice. I haven’t spoken to Duncan yet either.” Gwen’s phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out. “Speak of the devil.”
She answered. “Hello?”
Debbie returned to the kitchen to give Gwen some privacy. She made them each a cup of tea, then carried it back to the table when she heard Gwen hang up the phone.
She set a cup in front of Gwen then returned to her own seat. “How did it go?”
Gwen’s eyes were red-rimmed. “He asked where I was. I told him I was staying here for a while. He said that’s fine, he’s off to work, goodbye. So I stopped him and said, ‘I needed some time away from you.’ He asked me why, and I told him that he and the kids didn’t take care of me when I needed it—that they all take me for granted.”
“Good for you. Did he say anything else?”
“He said I was being emotional and he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, that he always takes good care of me.”
“Emotional?” Debbie shook her head in disgust.
“Then he had to go. He didn’t want to be late. Said we could talk more later.”
They ate their French toast and chatted about the progress they were making on the recipe book and what they’d cook at the next brunch. Debbie said she might even contribute a dish this time, one that wasn’t from a bakery. And then Gwen’s phone rang again.
This time when she hung up the phone, she was smiling nervously.
“Who was that?” Debbie asked as she ate the last bite of toast.
“That was the Surf Club. They run that fundraiser ball every year, and the organiser has backed out last minute. They wanted to know if I’d organise the ball. It’s in less than a month.”
“It’s not very long to pull together an event like that.”
“No, it’s not. But I told them I’d do it.”
“With your broken ankle?”
“What else am I going to do? It’ll give me something to occupy my time. And besides, I’ve always wanted to be involved. That’s why they called—I put my name on the list to help out. I didn’t know they’d want me to be in charge and plan the whole thing. But I think I can do it.”
“I know you can,” Debbie replied. “You’re exactly the right person for the job.”
Chapter Seventeen
Everything was ready for the potluck brunch. Joanna was in her room getting dressed. The scent of freshly baked herb bread, pasta and wine drifted into her bedroom, and her stomach grumbled with hunger. She heard Debbie and Gwen arrive together and hurried out to greet them.
“There’s our favourite chef,” Debbie said as she kissed Joanna’s cheek.
“How’s the ankle?” Joanna asked, embracing Gwen.
Gwen shook her head. “It would be painful if I didn’t have these lovely white pills to take.”
“Hey, don’t go getting addicted to those,” Joanna said. “I’ve heard it can go badly very quickly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gwen hobbled in her boot over to the nearest couch and sat down.
Joanna bustled about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on each item. Emily carried dishes to the dining room.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do much this time for decor,” Gwen said with a sigh. “But I did bring a few Italian flags for us to hang.”
“I’ll do that,” Debbie replied, grabbing the bag full of flags from Gwen’s grasp. “You relax.”
“Never mind,” Emily said. “As long as you’re taking care of yourself. We’ve got the brunch covered today.”
“Emily is right,” Joanna added. “Italian food needs no embellishment.”
“It smells amazing, Jo. You’ve outdone yourself. And drumroll, please…” Debbie smiled, pulling an insulated bag out from beneath the bench. “I made tiramisu for dessert.”
Joanna beamed. “From scratch? You made it yourself?”
“I did. There were a few missteps and some confusion about types of cream, but I got there in the end. I think it’s going to taste pretty good.”
“I can’t wait to eat it,” Emily said. “One of my favourite desserts.”
Debbie got her camera out and took snapshots while the ladies found their way to the dining table. Joanna was proud of how it had turned out. The table looked lovely. It was decorated in red, white and green. In fact, it looked a little like Christmas, but the flags placed in small vases around the table helped focus the theme.
There were traditional margherita and marinara pizzas topped with sauce and fresh mozzarella, tomatoes and oregano and drizzled with olive oil. Bowls of pasta—carbonara, bolognese. Pork ragu nestled in a bed of creamy polenta. A large caprese salad with fresh tomatoes in a variety of sizes and colours, sliced mozzarella and dotted with basil leaves. Freshly baked herb bread lay on a wooden cutting board, with a bowl of whipped garlic butter beside it. Joanna’s stomach growled again. She hadn’t eaten a thing all morning—she’d been so busy getting everything ready. And she was excited to sit and enjoy this feast with her friends. But first, she would get them drinks.
“Negroni? Wine? We have white and red…” she trilled.
Debbie and Gwen asked for negroni, and Emily wanted a white wine. Joanna decided to try a negroni as well, since she hadn’t drunk one in years. She added orange peel and ice cubes and took a sip before sitting down. The intense flavour was mixed with sweet, fruity notes.
Each of the ladies sipped at their drinks.
“This is lovely. Thank you,” Debbie said.
“I think we should have a toast,” Gwen said. “To the Sunshine Potluck Society and friendships that last a lifetime.”
“Cheers!” they all chimed in as they clinked their glasses together.
“Where’s Aaron today?” Gwen asked as they each ate the last bites of tiramisu.
Joanna’s stomach was so full, she wondered if she’d be able to waddle away from the dining table. “He’s at work.”
“How’s the new job?” Debbie asked.
“He seems to be doing well. I was pleased he found something so fast. But then again, there’s always demand for computer science professionals. At least, that’s what he tells me.” Joanna reached for her espresso cup and swallowed the last small gulp.
“Whatever happened to that lovely girl he was dating a few years back?” Gwen said. “The one with the red curls.”
“Oh, yes. You mean Rachel. She was lovely. But I don’t think she liked the distance. He was posted in Darwin and spent some time in Afghanistan and then Canberra. He moved around a lot. She didn’t want to do that, since she was studying for her PhD in Brisbane, I believe. And the separation became too much for them.”
“That’s a shame,” Debbie added. “Although I completely understand. It’s so hard on a couple when they aren’t able to connect.”
Just then, Debbie’s phone rang. She answered it and stepped out of the room. She’d been taking calls all morning. Something to do with an emergency at the office.
“I’d hoped you might be able to manage this without me,” she said as she walked away. Joanna couldn’t hear the rest of her conversation.
“Poor Debbie,” Gwen said. “It seems like owning a business makes work never ending.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Emily said. “She’s been on her phone all morning. And this isn’t the first time. She wants to slow down, but I don’t see how she’ll manage that.”
Joanna shook her head. “Does anyone need anything else? I’m not sure I can move to get it for you, but I’ll try.”
Emily laughed. “Let’s go to the den and relax. These chairs are getting hard.”
They all wandered to the den and found comfortable chairs to relax in. Joanna pulled out a knit blanket Emily had made for her the previous Christmas and pulled it up over her legs. She admired the stitching and the colours.
“I love this blanket, Em. You really have an eye for design.”
“You think?”
“Definitely. Maybe you should consider studying fashion design.”
Emily laughed. “I don’t know about that.”
“No, really, I mean it.”
“Thank you, Jo. Gwen, can I get you something to rest your foot on?”
“This cushion is just fine, Emily. Thank you, though.”
Joanna used a remote control to set the stereo to play soft background music.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life,” Emily said. “Your Italian cuisine is to die for, Jo.”
“There’s something special about Italian food, isn’t there?” Joanna asked.
“Absolutely divine. Duncan would’ve loved it.” Gwen’s mood turned sombre.
“How is Duncan?” Joanna asked. “Was he worried when you didn’t come home?”
Gwen shrugged. “He hardly seemed to notice. He called but wasn’t upset when I told him I was staying over at Debbie’s. If I moved out, I’m not sure he’d realise for weeks. The only thing that would give me away is that his laundry would stay in the hamper and not magically appear clean and hanging in his closet.” She laughed, but the sound was hollow.
“What do you two do when you want to get away and have some time together?” Emily asked.
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Hmmm… That’s a good question. I can’t remember the last time we did anything like that. But we used to go bushwalking. That was a long time ago. Now, we mostly live separate lives. He’s at work, or golfing, or spending time with his colleagues and friends. I’m at home, or with the kids and grandkids, or here with all of you.”
