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Potluck: A Sleepy Haven Mystery

By Catherine Stuart

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1

No Faith in Lady Luck



“All right, ladies,” said Veronica firmly. She looked intently at the twelve women sipping coffee and tea around the large oval antique table. “It’s time to begin.”
The buzz of conversation and laughter evaporated. Elaine finished watering the last of the plants and left, closing the frosted door behind her. Veronica sat like a statue, her silver hair tightly woven into a bun while her tailored black wool suit fitted smartly around every slender curve.
Annie sat quietly, sipping her tea, allowing the mug to warm her hands. If only tables could talk, she mused, this table would have a lot to say. For the past one hundred years, ladies have sat discussing church business at this table. I wonder what secrets it keeps. Annie’s internal questions were suddenly thwarted. The atmosphere felt heavy, as if a little black cloud hovered over them.
Veronica’s lips curled slightly upward. “Let’s begin the tedious process of assigning dishes and jobs for the annual potluck. As you know, people from inside as well as outside the community come to this event. Our food is seen as down-home dishes made to perfection.” She spoke without hiding a smirk.
“With love,” Alyce chimed in cheerily.
Veronica plowed on like a driver in the cockpit of a steamroller on a mission. She had Teresa write down the name of each lady alongside her signature dish. Teresa dutifully noted the name, dish, and job of each woman. The categories were as follows: main dishes, sides, tongue-teasers, and temptations or desserts.
“How much of each dish should we make?” asked Lydia, this being her first time participating in the annual potluck fundraiser.
“Make enough for one hundred people,” Veronica said with a look of distaste. “We must make sure there is enough of each dish to suffice for the possible five hundred or more that may come. We start selling tickets this afternoon,” she added with the demeanor of a drill sergeant. “I need someone to make sure there are enough plates, napkins, cups, and all the rest of it.” Veronica’s stare could’ve bored a hole into each lady’s forehead.
“I will, I mean, I can check on that this afternoon,” stammered Donna. “Also, is the youth group finished with the signs to post for the event?”
“Yes,” replied Lydia, “and they will place them around the town.”
“Next meeting: Friday at 3:00 p.m.,” said Veronica. “Meeting adjourned!” Veronica’s voice boomed like a heavy gavel in a courtroom.
The ladies each picked up paper cups and napkins to throw in the trash. Several women scooted out the door. However, a few stayed behind to chat. Donna began checking on supplies while Veronica put her bifocals on to study the list.
Teresa offered to make centerpieces for the tables. “I love creating centerpieces!” she said enthusiastically. “I think I’ll use orange and yellow mums with a dash of purple.”
“You’re the professional,” said Donna.
“The pressure is on, then—isn’t it, dearie?” said Annie with a hint of Irish sassiness.
“I work well under pressure,” Teresa shot back with a chuckle. “Like a diamond.”
“In the rough,” said Donna. The women all laughed good-naturedly.




Renée grabbed a chocolate-drizzled caramel latte from a nearby vendor before briskly walking to the subway station. She glanced down at her cell phone to check the time, noting that her first client was due in roughly ninety minutes. However, as Susan tended to arrive late, Renée wasn’t too concerned.
The steady routine of riding the subway to work took an hour and a half on a good day, and Renée was finally entertaining the idea of having a car. It was common not to own a car in the city, and for years Renée had taken the subway with no regrets. Over the last few months, though, it had felt like drudgery each time she’d ridden it. Her thoughts became blurred by all the noise of technology on the train. The beeps from texts and games or the constant chatter of phone calls was distracting with a capital D. I guess the time has finally come, she thought, stepping off the train.
Renée walked a few blocks to get to her office building. Before going in the building she pulled out a small mirror from her purse in order to retouch her hair and makeup. She smoothed out her highlighted, wavy brown hair, reapplied some lipstick, and entered the tall glass building to ride the elevator up to the tenth floor.
After saying a brief hello to colleagues, she strode into her office. Leaving the black leather briefcase by her desk, she sat down to finish a note she’d started earlier. However, her mind kept darting from the note to her own life.
She thought about how she’d already accomplished many of her goals. She’d been very successful in reaching them, and at age thirty, she was exactly where she’d planned to be. Helping people had always provided a sense of deep internal satisfaction, so she never questioned her career choice. After graduating, she had followed her self-created path, smoothly moving up the ranks. She’d started out working as an in-home counselor. Then she’d worked for an agency, and finally, she’d begun her own practice.
Her practice was growing rapidly as referrals poured in. A designer had helped her create a sleek yet therapeutic environment for clients to feel comfortable in. The beautiful mission-style furniture was complemented with splashes of color from high-end art pieces made by local artists. All of this was like a dream come true.
Presently, her clients were mostly women who spent their time acquiring lipo treatments, eyebrow lifts and face-lifts, spa treatments, and on and on. And while they were in session, they spent their time navel-gazing. It wasn’t as though she felt no compassion for these clients; they were always important. However, she was losing her focus. Lately, all their issues were similar.
Renée was aware that burnout was common in her field of expertise. One glaring sign was that her mind drifted off during sessions when she normally would have been focused. She could quickly rein it back in, yet she knew she could not continue seeing clients if that didn’t change. The thought was frightening to grapple with alone.
She left her office to see if Katrina had a few minutes to talk, as Renée often discussed cases or concerns with her trusted colleague. Katrina had the time, but she preferred to meet in Renée’s office, as a colleague was coming in shortly. As soon as Katrina sat down, Renée closed the door.
“I know these are important issues to these women,” she began. “I just find myself having to exercise my focus in a way that feels stilted and uncomfortable. It reminds me of what Victorian-era women may have gone through. Their problems just seem so mild compared to other clients who are presenting far more intense issues.”
“Well, it may be that you are burning the candle at both ends,” Katrina said firmly yet encouragingly. “Sometimes it’s more of a sudden stop when you notice it, but it grabs your attention.”
“It’s true that I haven’t had a vacation for a while,” Renée conceded. “I have quite a few clients, though, so—”
Katrina leaned forward, interrupting as she snatched the word. “So you let them know you’re going to be out of town and give them my number. I know you will do the same for me.” Katrina smiled confidently, her eyes twinkling.
“I know you’re right,” Renée agreed. “I need to do it for myself as well as my clients. Ethics 101.”
“You will come back refreshed and ready to use your fine talents to help people,” Katrina said. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know how important it is to take some breaks. Remember—we’re not superhumans with special powers. Let me know your travel plans ASAP.”
“I’m on it.” Renée saluted her mentor as she got up from the chair. “Thanks for the session.” She laughed.
“You won’t thank me when you get my bill,” Katrina joked as she stepped out of the office. Her black hair contrasting against her cream suit was the last thing Renée saw before Susan walked in.
Susan wore designer clothes and jewelry. Her highlighted, blonde bobbed hair was always perfect, as were her nails. She sat down comfortably in the modern pale-blue chair and jumped right into the session, sharing her concerns with hardly an introduction.
“I have to decide whether to go on vacation with my husband or my girlfriends,” she said, sighing as she looked down at her manicured purple nails. “Dave told me he has to purchase the tickets by Friday! It seems like every hour I change my mind about what I want to do. See—every year my friends go on this great vacation where they sit at the beach and drink cocktails until it’s time to go to the spa and wind down. Dave goes to museums and hikes and bikes.” She waved her hand through the air carelessly as she spoke. “I’d rather go with my friends, but I don’t know.” She shook her head, truly at a loss.
“Not making a decision is actually making a decision,” Renée pointed out. “Do you think you already know inside what you’re going to do?”
“I think so. At least I know what I want to do. It may not be what I should do, though,” Susan added coyly.
“What can you do to help yourself sort that out?” Renée asked.
“Isn’t that what I pay you the big bucks for?” she said with a mock-dramatic expression. Susan paused, looking up as if she were reaching for something in a cabinet drawer.
Renée smiled and waited patiently.
“I could write out a list, talk with Dave, and then see how I feel about it. I like it. Thanks!” Susan’s face brightened with confidence. “See you in two weeks?”
“Actually, I need to make it a month,” Renée replied quickly. “I’m going to be gone, but Katrina will meet with you if you need an appointment before I get back.”
“Oh, I think a month is fine,” Susan said.
Renée rose from her chair, and Susan did the same. After scheduling the next appointment, they walked to the door.
“Have a wonderful time on your vacation,” Renée said as Susan began walking down the hall.
Renée went back into her office, finished up for the day, and then took the subway back home. The beeps, blips, rings, and music didn’t seem to interfere with her thoughts this time.
Renée called Katrina on the way into her condo. “Most of my clients were fine when I told them I was going on a trip,” she said. “I’ll fill you in about the few who were apprehensive.” Renée set up a regular time to confer with Katrina while she was vacationing. Right after she hung up the phone, her mind began to race.
I wonder where I should go, she thought as she walked into her condo. She saw the phone message light flashing, so she pressed play and heard a familiar voice.
“Hi, my favorite niece! I want to chat with you when you can take a break from your busy, hectic life to call your dear ol’ auntie. I hope to talk to you soon, and I hope guilt works!” Renée heard her laugh before hanging up.
Renée smiled as she slowly pulled her feet out of her tan pumps and then peeled off her sticking hose and light-green suit. After changing into comfy clothes, she sank down on her red velvet, antique sofa. Her calico cat, Anastasia, jumped up beside her. I could use a big dose of Aunt Annie right now, she thought. She only comes in big doses and is the perfect medicine for my case of living on fast-forward. Renée closed her eyes and imagined herself curling up on the sofa at Aunt Annie’s in front of the fireplace with a cup of tea or hot cocoa in hand.
“I love it,” Renée announced to the cat. “Lately I’ve been running from one thing to the next.” Anastasia moved onto her lap and began purring. “I’m at meetings, doing paperwork, and exercising, only to run home and eat junk food. Living on fast food in fast-forward, huh, Ana?” She stroked her cat’s chin. Anastasia looked up lovingly. “You know, you’re more like a dog than a cat in some ways.” Ana purred contentedly as Renée reached for her cell phone.
“Ana, I mean, Annie? Are you there? I’m taking a break.” She spoke slowly into Annie’s answering machine. Then she heard panting.
“Yes, dear! I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the phone fast enough. It’s wonderful to hear your voice, darlin’.” She spoke in her pronounced Irish brogue, which she lapsed into regularly, especially when she became excited. I was wonderin’ if you could help out your old auntie. I just needed a few things done before winter.” Annie was using her signature persuasive tone.
“Actually, this is perfect timing,” said Renée. “I just planned to take a vacation without a destination. We can help each other, I guess.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s much of a vacation for you, though,” Annie said doubtfully.
“It will be fun,” Renée promised. “Besides, I already know I’ll have to twist your arm into letting me help for real. I know how you work.” The women laughed in unison.
“You do know a lot with that fancy-schmancy degree of yours!” Annie teased.
“I’ll plan to come out sometime next week,” Renée assured her.
“Perfect, my dear!” said Annie.
Renée could hear Annie humming into the phone as she hung up.
“Well, Anastasia.” Renée looked into the cat’s green eyes and began straightening her shiny pink collar. “It’s official. We are going on vacation!” Immediately, she started making a list of what to pack, but she found that she was having trouble focusing. She put down the paper and pen, checked her watch, and rubbed her eyes. Then she headed to bed, only to toss and turn for an hour before finally falling asleep.



The following Friday was the ladies’ meeting at the church.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get this party started,” said Mrs. Henderson.
“Kind of like when the cat’s away,” jested Donna.
“What Donna means is that Veronica had to leave town rather abruptly,” Mrs. Henderson continued. “Veronica’s hoping to be back in time for the potluck, but she isn’t sure she will be.”
“Well, that’s rather mysterious,” offered Teresa, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Yes, well, I’m sure it must be important. You know how she hates to miss these meetings.” Mrs. Henderson snorted with an air of confidence.
“I know how she loves to run them,” Kaite whispered under her breath.
Annie silently agreed while trying to suppress a smile. She sat and observed the interactions around the table.
“Does everyone have their jobs completed for Sunday?” Mrs. Henderson inquired.
All the women raised their hands while nodding.
“Very good,” Mrs. Henderson said. “Any questions?”
Lydia spoke up. “Are we supposed to supply the serving spoons for our dishes?”
“Good question,” said Mrs. Henderson. “Did everyone hear that? Yes, the church has some, but if you could bring yours, that would be helpful.” She turned to look at each of the ladies as she spoke. “Please remember to mark your dishes and utensils so that none of them get mixed up. We don’t want any mystery about that. All right, girls, see you Sunday, bright and early.”
Annie watched her with secret amusement. She makes a great mini Veronica, she thought. She then excused herself to go show a house. Most of the other women left as well, citing various reasons.




Kaite, Teresa, Lydia, and Andrea stayed awhile to discuss recipes. They talked about final details to make sure Sunday’s event would go well. The ladies’ group planned events for most months in order to raise money for various charity funds. This core group of thirteen women was at the helm, steering these activities.
“It’s almost showtime,” said Kaite. “Veronica has always been here for this. I hope it runs smoothly.” She hesitated.
Andrea laughed infectiously. “We’ve done enough of these to know they’re a lot like weddings. There are always glitches no matter how well we plan. Some things are just out of our control, like the weather.”
“Yes,” agreed Teresa. “That’s so true, but they make memorable times.”
Andrea smiled, showing off her perfectly bleached teeth. “Remember when Frieda read the lemonade recipe wrong and put in enough lemon to curl your hair?”
“Ha, that’s right,” said Teresa. “It was so tart! That was very embarrassing for our community event, though.”
“Yes,” agreed Kaite, “but it was hilarious watching people drink it and then try graciously to pretend it was really good. That would’ve made a great undercover reality moment!”
Andrea snorted. “Remember when Ida accidently put fire-hot picante instead of mild in the enchiladas? Those ladies are so cute, but they’re getting up there in years.”
“Back to Veronica,” Teresa whispered hoarsely from laughter. She glanced around, double-checking to make sure they were alone.
Andrea, Lydia, and Kaite straightened up and leaned forward simultaneously. “Yes?” they asked in unison.
“She just sent a text to let me know she will be back tonight,” Teresa babbled, “and she asked us to keep it as a surprise. You know how she just loves a grand entrance.”
“Wonderful!” said Andrea.
“Fantastic!” Kaite exclaimed.
Teresa glanced at her watch. “Well, girls, I need to get home and create my scrumptious dish.” Picking up her sunshine-yellow purse, she headed through the walk-out basement door.
Lydia sat quietly for a few moments. “I was hoping she would have something more interesting to say,” she admitted.
Kaite threw out a half-moon smile. “You mean more juicy, don’t you?”
“Veronica is quite the celebrity in Sleepy Haven,” said Lydia. They all giggled like elementary-school girls.
Then Kaite spoke up suddenly as her shoulders lost their hunch. “You know, their wedding anniversary is on Sunday … thirty years, wow! As she shook her head, her chestnut hair gently swayed.
“It’s a strange way to spend their anniversary,” remarked Lydia.
“Maybe they celebrated early …” Andrea’s voice trailed off slowly. “Maybe they want to celebrate it with the church family.”
Kaite looked up sharply, her blue eyes full of concern. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that they argue a lot. I wonder sometimes just how happy they are.”
Andrea gazed off toward the philodendrons carefully placed by the large window. “Marriage is hard work, and some don’t make it,” she said softly, “but hopefully theirs isn’t a casualty.” Her voice faded out.
Kaite added, “I just hate to see her boss him around the way she does. He used to be outgoingand even, as we used to say, dreamy.” The women laughed.
“Yes,” agreed Andrea, “but that was the distant past. We’ve all changed since then.”
“Remember,” reminisced Kaite, “when creams were for old people?”
“Uh-huh.” Andrea nodded, her brown eyes widening. “And old people were over thirty, but now they’re the young people. It’s all relative. Oh, remember the time Steven put the salt in the sugar shaker and hot sauce in the ketchup bottles at Camp Kenal?” she asked. They laughed at the memory.
“You and Veronica were such great friends,” remarked Kaite.
“Yes, that’s true. The wrinkles of time have changed a lot of things,” Andrea agreed thoughtfully. “Veronica is still beautiful on the outside, but …” She stopped herself. “I remember how thoughtful and giving she was. Over time, I saw her become controlling, selfish, and mean.” Andrea quickly put her hand to her mouth. “Please forget that I said that! I didn’t mean it.” Her creamy skin lost color.
Kaite smiled. “I think most of us secretly loved and then hated Veronica at one time or another. She really is like a celebrity here in our little village. By the way, I think we all had a crush on Steven too.” She chuckled.
“Come on,” coaxed Andrea. “We’d better get started on our food. Don’s out of town, so at least I can get a lot done tonight. Shall we?” She motioned toward the door, and they cheerfully walked out together.




Renée was sitting at her computer when she called Annie to finalize her plans. “I can be there a week from this Monday,” she told her aunt.
“Are you driving?” asked Annie in an astonished tone.
“I thought it would be nice to rent a car,” answered Renée. “I’m a big girl now, remember?”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Annie firmly. “You can use the old Mustang. It needs to be driven more anyway.”
“You mean that old, classic, 1967, springtime-yellow coupe with the off-white interior? The one you and my mom used to fight over? That one?” The phone almost vibrated with her enthusiasm.
“Precisely!” Annie said in her Irish brogue.
Renée could hear the joy bubbling in her aunt’s voice.
“Just so you know, sibling rivalry never completely ends,” added Annie. “It just gets more subtle.”
“Good to know,” Renée said. “This will be great! We have so much to catch up on.” She paused. “You gave me the luck of the Irish. I just found a flight online that I can book now. It’s a week from this Monday. My plane comes in at 10:00 a.m.”
“Sounds great!” Annie said. She whistled. “It’s amazing what you kids can do with technology in just a few minutes. Aye, you make me so proud, and you’re such a lovely person, my dear!”

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