The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 9
Debbie came to join them, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry about that. But apparently they’re incapable of making it work without me, and there’s a client emergency that I really need to deal with. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut our time short.”
She went to each of them to hug them goodbye. “It was delightful, as always. I can’t wait to see how the Italian pages turn out in the cookbook, but the photos I took are looking pretty good so far. I think it’ll be very special.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Joanna said. “You do such a good job on those images, Deb. You could’ve been a photographer. Really, you could.”
“You’re too kind. Now, will someone drop Gwen home? I drove her here, but unfortunately I have to head directly to the office.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. No problem,” Emily said. “You go and put out your fires. We’ll take care of Gwen.”
“Thank you, honey. You’re the best,” Debbie said, blowing Emily a kiss. “Ciao, all. See you next time.”
After she’d left, they were quiet for a few minutes.
“I don’t know how she has so much energy,” Gwen said. “I can’t keep up with her. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”
“She’s always been like that,” Joanna agreed. “I’m going to have a nap just as soon as you leave. And she’s off to save the world.”
“Or at least to save her business.”
“Are you going back to her place or home?” Joanna asked.
Gwen’s greying curls were swept up into a messy bun. Her blue eyes were rimmed with eyeliner, and she looked youthful in a pair of denim culottes and a white T-shirt. The heavy boot on her foot stood out against her tanned leg. She thought for a moment. “I suppose I should go home. I’ve got to face Duncan at some point. And there’s nothing to be gained by running away from my life.”
“It’s the mature thing to do,” Joanna agreed.
“And I always make the responsible choice,” Gwen said miserably. “Even when it hurts.”
Chapter Eighteen
The kitchen gleamed. Emily filled a mug with steaming hot water. Tea seeped from a bag into the water. Her phone buzzed. It was Wanda.
Mia threw up all over the bed. Mason has a fever. And I feel awful. I’m not coping.
She texted her sister back.
I’m so sorry. I can come by later if that helps.
There’s no point. Then you’d be sick too.
Let me know if you need anything.
I will. Thanks.
She walked out to the back deck, set down her mug of tea and pressed her hands to her hips to inhale a large breath. The afternoon sun glinted on the surface of the pool, inviting her in. She might go for a swim to clear her head. She still hadn’t quite digested all the food they’d eaten but was feeling a little better.
She’d dropped Gwen home half an hour earlier. Between them, they’d cleaned up Joanna’s kitchen, and now Joanna was down for a nap. Emily wanted to do something. She itched for a bit of activity. Sometimes she wished she had more friends her own age. She loved spending time with Joanna, Gwen and Debbie, but they’d been together since kindergarten. She was a blow-in. And she was less than half their age. She needed more stimulation, some excitement, an adventure. Her life was slipping by, and she hadn’t done anything yet.
She sat and sipped tentatively at the boiling hot tea. It scorched her lips and tongue. She panted for a moment, regretting her haste.
Maybe she should go over to Wanda’s and check on them anyway. Even if Wanda didn’t want her to. She could bring them some chicken soup. That might help them feel better. But she needed to take a few minutes to herself first, finish her tea and have a swim. Then she’d get started on the soup.
The house phone rang, and she leapt to her feet and ran into the kitchen to answer it before it woke Joanna. She’d insisted on keeping a house phone even though no one else had one. Emily had explained to her that mobile was all she needed, but Joanna had asked, “What if there’s an emergency? I always turn my phone to mute and forget about it.”
She had a point. When Joanna left her phone on mute, it was impossible to reach her.
“Hello, this is the Gilston residence. Emily speaking.”
“Oh, hi. I’m looking for Aaron Gilston,” a woman’s voice said.
“Who’s calling?”
“I’m Amy Sykes. He has my number.”
“I’ll tell him you called.”
“Can you please ask him to call me back? That’d be great.”
“No worries,” Emily replied.
As she hung up the phone, she couldn’t help wondering who Amy Sykes was and why she was calling Aaron’s home number. He obviously hadn’t given her his mobile number. She hadn’t mentioned a doctor’s surgery or a dentist’s office. Clearly it was a personal call. But who was she? Was he dating already? He’d only just arrived in town. It seemed a little unfair that he’d already be going out with other women, especially when she was right here in front of him and he hadn’t so much as asked her out. Why would he, though? He’d never seen her that way. Why start now?
The front door opened, and she was still staring at the phone on the bench. She startled and turned to see Aaron walking in with his laptop bag in one hand.
“Oh, hi,” she said, her cheeks warming. “How was work?”
“It was fine. I still can’t believe they needed me to come in on a Saturday. I hope it’s not going to become the norm. I need my weekends.” He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “How was brunch?”
“It was great,” Emily replied. “I can make you a plate, if you like.”
“That would be fantastic. I’m so hungry I can barely think straight.”
“Coming right up.” She’d have to share the phone message with him, but not right away. He’d only stepped through the door seconds ago and was famished. She would give him a chance to breathe first.
While Aaron changed, Emily heated up a plate of food for him. She left it covered on the kitchen bench, then headed to her room to put on a swimsuit. It was a hot day, and although the house was air-conditioned, the moment she stepped outside, she began to sweat. The sun bored down on her head as she slathered sunscreen over her exposed skin. The red bikini she wore was a little too small. She really should go shopping for another one. She kept hoping she’d be able to drop the five kilograms she’d gained and fit back into it.
When she jumped into the pool, the cold water rushed over her. She pushed to the surface and gasped for air. Within a few moments, it felt nice, although the initial cold had made her shiver. Then she remembered the phone call. She’d have to tell Aaron about it soon or she might forget completely. And that could seem intentional.
Ten minutes later, she heard a splash behind her and turned to see Aaron surfacing. He shook his head, sending water droplets flying. Then he smiled at her. “I hope you don’t mind. It looked so good, and the city was so hot. By the way, that food was the bomb.”
“I don’t mind at all. And I’m glad you enjoyed the meal.” She pushed her long, wet hair back from her face. “There was a phone call for you a few minutes before you got home. A woman called Amy.”
He frowned. “Amy Sykes?”
“That’s right. She asked if you’d call her back.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll give her a call when I get out of the pool.”
She wanted to ask. But she shouldn’t. It wasn’t her business. He had every right to date. He had no obligation to her.
“Do you know her from work?” she asked.
He bobbed in the water. “I met her there, yes. But she doesn’t work with me.”
“Oh.” She pursed her lips and concentrated on picking up stray leaves from the bottom of the pool with her toes and tossing them over the edge onto the deck.
“We had coffee.”
“Oh.” So he was dating her, but nothing serious. At least not yet. Still, none of her business.
“I’m not sure why she’s calling. I didn’t give her my mobile. I guess she looked up the number.”
“That makes sense,” she said. There were too many leaves. She’d never be able to pick them all up one by one. Where was the pool vacuum? She spied it over by a clump of palm trees. What was it doing all the way over there?
She climbed out of the pool and padded, dripping, to pick up the vacuum. Then she carried it back to the pool and lowered it into the water. She jumped into the pool behind it. But the vacuum didn’t do anything. There must be a button to switch it on. She ducked beneath the water’s surface and pulled up the vacuum. Then she resurfaced and looked for the on switch. Where was it? She hadn’t looked closely at it before. They had a maintenance guy who came regularly to keep the pool in working order. Surely the button wouldn’t be too hard to find.
The vacuum was heavy. She readjusted her grip. Just then, two arms enveloped her and reached for the vacuum, holding it easily aloft. Aaron’s arms were on either side of her, muscular and tanned. He peered over her shoulder so his chin was almost resting on top of her head.
“Here it is,” he said, pressing a button on the side of the vacuum. “I took it out to fix a blockage. Should work fine now.”
He let go of the vacuum and swam away.
“Uh, thanks.” Emily realised she’d been holding her breath in her throat. Her entire body hummed with energy. She was aware of every single hair, every toe, every finger, every fibre of her being. And the skin he’d touched was still dimpled with goose bumps.
She lowered the vacuum into the water, then pushed off the side with her feet to swim a lap. She swam until she was tired. When she emerged from the water, Aaron was gone. And the ache in her heart had grown.
Chapter Nineteen
Gwen had gotten the hang of walking in the boot. She managed reasonably well, and the pain was gone. The break seemed to be healing, and she was grateful to be back at home. She was alone, since Duncan was most likely still at the golf club. He usually spent the entire day there, playing eighteen holes, eating, socialising. It was his happy place. And she often joined him—she liked spending time with their friends at the club. But not today. Today, she’d spent the morning at her potluck brunch as she often did on Saturdays. And this afternoon, she intended to get to work organising the Surf Club fundraiser.
There was a lot to do. The location of the event was easy—it would be held at the Surf Club. They were raising money to support the club’s life-saving efforts. The annual fundraiser provided a large portion of their budget for the year and was a must-attend event for the local business community.
It was her understanding that the woman who’d agreed to organise the fundraiser had been through some kind of family drama, and as a result, they were three weeks out with nothing done. She’d communicated a theme, Marie Antoinette. Gwen wasn’t sure it was a very applicable theme, given the event was being held at a small-town surf club on a tropical island, but the committee had assured her the theme was non-negotiable, as it was too late to change the marketing and ticketing that had already gone out.
The food should be French. She made notes on a notepad, her foot resting on an ottoman placed strategically in front of her leather armchair. What would work? She picked up the phone and dialled Joanna’s number.
Joanna answered with a sleepy voice. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jo, I’m working on this Surf Club fundraiser. It’s a French royalty theme. Any ideas for the menu?”
Joanna hesitated. “Oh, hi, Gwen. I was just napping.”
“I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”
“That’s okay, I needed to get up.” She yawned loudly. “French food? Okay, let’s see. Bouillabaisse is a traditional French soup. You can serve it with seafood, to make it coastal, and crusty bread sticks.”
“That sounds delicious,” Gwen replied, quickly writing it down.
“Pizzas, of course, but with creme fraiche instead of tomato sauce. They’re called Flammekueche, and they’re delicious. They’re from the province of Alsace. Oooh… Or you could do mini quiche Lorraines. That would be simple and yummy.”
“I like that idea,” Gwen replied. She was starting to feel hungry. “It has to be something I can serve to over two hundred people at the same time.”
“Will you do a sit-down meal or finger food?”
“Finger food would be best since the entire place will be packed.”
Joanna laughed. “Oh, you’re going to upset some people.”
“I don’t want to do that. But I’d like to have a live band, dancing. And I want to fit as many people into the club as I can, without the costs getting too far out of control. We’re meant to be raising money, not spending it.”
“I think that’s a great choice,” Joanna said. “As long as you can back it up, and I think you’ve done that well.”
In the end, they decided on the following menu.
Cheese, crackers, bread, olives, dips and deli meats placed on grazing platters around the room.
Mini Quiche Lorraine
Mini Bacon, Cheddar and Onion Quiche
Dijon Chicken Wings
Short Rib Bourguignon
King Prawns in a Garlic Rouille
Braised Artichokes
Mini Butterscotch Soufflés
Chocolate Eclairs and other assorted pastries
It was an ambitious menu. Gwen wasn’t sure they could pull it off, but she would talk to the catering staff and see what they thought of it. Of course, they’d pair it all with local wines to keep the costs down and to support local industry.
She was putting the finishing touches on an email to her contact at the Surf Club when she heard the garage door whirring open. Duncan was home. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She’d barely spoken to him for days. She hadn’t seen him since she left to go to Debbie’s. Had he noticed her absence? Would he care? She’d decided to talk to him about the issues between them but wasn’t sure where to begin. They needed to have a discussion, but was this the right time? She’d never been one to choose conflict. She generally avoided it as long as possible. But perhaps that approach was what had landed her here, in a marriage she barely recognised to a man who seemed not to care about her the way she did for him.
He marched into the kitchen and flung his things down on the bench as he always did. Usually she put everything away for him, but with her broken ankle, she’d hoped he might think to do a few things for himself.
When he stepped into the living room, scotch on ice in hand, he paused at the sight of her.
“Oh, there you are,” he said. “I didn’t see you this morning.”
“I stayed at Debbie’s. Remember? We spoke about it?”
His brow furrowed. “Oh, that’s right. Did you have a nice time?”
She’d called it. He hadn’t even realised she was gone, let alone that she was upset with him. He walked around in his own little world. Did he think about her at all?
“It was good to spend some time with her. We had the Sunshine Potluck Society brunch today as well. I thought you might come.”
He sat in his favourite armchair with a chuckle. “You ladies don’t want me there. I’d spoil all the fun.”
“I invited you.”
“Thanks, hon. But I don’t see myself attending anytime soon. Who was there?”
“Debbie, Joanna and Emily. Aaron was working.”
“Oh? How’s he going?”
“Settling in, I think.”
“Glad to hear it. He’s a good man. You should tell him to come down to the club and hit a few balls. It’d be good to see him.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t sure what to say. Where do you begin on a lifetime of grievances? She shouldn’t have let it get this far. Should’ve addressed things as they arose. But she’d been busy raising children, and complaining seemed out of place. What did she have to complain about, really? And so they’d drifted apart, stopped communicating, and now they lived very separate lives.
Was it her fault, or his?
She didn’t want to cast blame. But it took two to ignore the cracks in a relationship. And she’d played her part, even if she’d spent most of her life doing everything she could to make him happy. By burying her own happiness and letting him trample over her needs and wants, she’d helped to build the wall between them.
He picked up a book and began to read. With one leg crossed over the other, a glass of scotch on the table beside him and a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, he looked older than his sixty-five years. They’d spent a lifetime together, yet looking at him like this, she felt she hardly knew him. But she did. She knew him well. Knew every part of him. What he liked to eat or drink. How he slept. Where he went when he was feeling stressed. The clothes that made his skin itch or the food that gave him a stomachache. She knew him better than anyone else in the entire world. But right now, he was a stranger to her. What was going on in that head of his?
“Did you miss me?” she asked.
He glanced up at her. “Huh?”
“When I was staying at Debbie’s. Did you miss me?”
He smiled. “Sure, yes, of course I did.”
“Would you mind if I moved in with her for a while?”
He frowned. “What? Why would you do that?”
“I’m feeling a little unappreciated.”
He sat up. “Unappreciated? Why? What happened?”
She swallowed as anxiety made a ball in her gut. She hated tension, arguing. Better to leave it all beneath the surface. But the tension would merely fester. She had to get it out into the open, no matter how hard it was. “Well, you and the kids expect things of me. And you don’t seem to appreciate all I do for you. When I’m gone, you barely notice. None of the kids called to check on me. You didn’t realise I was upset. I don’t know how to get through to you all.”
He closed his book and set it on the table. “You were upset? What about?”
“When I broke my ankle, you took me to the hospital and left me there. You didn’t stay to help me or make sure I was okay. You all went back to the beach and finished the nice picnic that I had set up for you. Then you didn’t unpack any of the picnic when you got home. You left a huge mess in the kitchen for me to clean up, even though you knew I was in pain and on medication.”
