Chapter 62
DeeAnn was excited. It was the first crop she had gone to outside her own house in weeks. The doctor thought it would be okay and on Monday, she’d finally start going back to work half days.
When she walked into Sheila’s basement scrapbooking headquarters, it felt like a second home. She was unprepared for the emotions that came bubbling forward.
“DeeAnn?” Sheila said. “Are you okay?”
All of the others were already at the table—Paige, Randy, Vera, Annie, and Cookie, who was looking livelier than she had felt in quite some time. They all looked up at DeeAnn.
She nodded. “I’m fine. Just happy to be here.”
DeeAnn took her place next to Paige, who was already at work on a heritage album. She and Randy were working on it together. They had been doing family research and decided to record it in albums, scrapbooking a family history. It made sense.
DeeAnn loved seeing them together—and loved seeing all three of them together. Earl had come a long way. Hell, they all had. If she had known five or ten years ago that she’d be at the scrapbooking table with a Jewish woman, a witch, and a gay man, she probably would never have believed it. Time did some awful things to people—but it also held some wonderful surprises.
“DeeAnn, you should eat some of Vera’s chocolates tonight,” Randy said. “They are divine. I told her if you didn’t sell them, we would. I’ll get her into the Pie Palace.”
Annie stiffened at the mention of the Pie Palace.
“Look, it’s where I work. Okay?” Randy rolled his eyes.
DeeAnn ignored him. “I told Vera that we would carry her chocolate when she was ready,” She bit into one. “Ohmigoodness. Very good!”
“Thanks,” Vera said. “I’m having a lot of fun with it. We can talk about selling it later, okay DeeAnn?”
DeeAnn nodded. Of all of the women at the table, Vera had probably changed the most. She’d been through hell and had come out stronger and happier—more centered than any of them, perhaps.
“Well, what’s going on with the whole Jorge thing?” DeeAnn said as she spread her pages out on the table.
“They’re still holding him for the assault,” Annie said.
“Really?” DeeAnn said. “It’s been a week. That’s odd.”
“They must have their reasons,” Paige said.
“I think he’s guilty as sin,” Vera said, looking up from her scrapbook. “I’m sure he killed the sisters and God knows who else.”
Sheila laughed. “You know what, Vera? If I had a dime for every time you’ve said that and have been wrong . . .”
“Well, now. I know that’s true,” Vera said, her blue eyes sparkling. She was a beautiful woman. Always had been, but these days, she positively glowed. “But this time? He attacked Annie. That’s all I need to know about the man.”
The room quieted.
“How are you, Annie?” Randy asked, reaching for her hand.
“I’m good. Really. That was nothing compared to being tied up in the B and B. I feel strong. I took care of myself. I’ve done it before. When I was a young investigative reporter, I used to get into some tight spots. But that was before I married Mike. And certainly before I had kids. Of course, my greatest fear is that my boys will grow up without me.”
It was unlike Annie to offer up so much personal information so they all listened intently as she continued talking.
“I worry that I’ll miss out on watching them grow up by doing something stupid. By chasing after a story for an editor who doesn’t really pay me enough and certainly doesn’t even really respect me. It’s just a job. So not worth the risk.”
After a few beats of silence, Cookie lifted her glass. “Hear, hear, Annie! Here’s to a new life. Renewal. Health. Happiness. All of it!”
They all cheered and toasted Annie then settled into their scrapbooking, eating, and chatting.
“Damn, the chocolate is gone,” Paige said. “What did you bring, DeeAnn?”
“Nothing to eat. Just brought my gorgeous self over here. I figured that was enough.” DeeAnn smiled.
“Next time, bring food, you old bat.” Paige laughed.
“It’s the price of admission,” Sheila said, grinning.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do.” DeeAnn felt proud as she realized her friends were missing her baked goods. Maybe, once she got on her feet completely, she’d continue working awhile longer. Maybe she’d retire next year. Or the year after. One thing having the back problem had taught her was that there was more to life than her bakery. She still ached to bake. Maybe the thing to do was to pull back, just a bit. Like Annie, DeeAnn was ready to make some changes.
“What fancy-schmancy scrapbooking thing are you working on?” DeeAnn said to Sheila.
“I’m writing my letter of resignation,” Sheila said.
“What?” It was a collective question.
She looked up at the table of croppers around her. They had all been so busy with events in their lives that maybe they hadn’t seen the circles beneath her eyes, the weight she’d lost, jagged nerves fraying.
“I can’t do it anymore,” Sheila said. “My Donna is not getting any better. It’s taking awhile to find the right medicine. I’m tired of trying to balance it all. It’s been a little crazy.”
“But this is your dream,” Vera said weakly.
“It used to be my dream,” Sheila said. “Now my dream is to have a healthy daughter.”