Free Same Old Truths by Delora Dennis Page B

for a few minutes after the meeting I’ll show you how to do it. Give them the information you presented here tonight, along with a deadline to respond. We can even scan the brochure and attach it to the message. Give them the link to my email address, and I will manage the responses.”
    Kay was hoping Virginia’s “take-charge” attitude might just turn things around.
    Carol Ann was not finished throwing up roadblocks. “But how are we going to collect the money? Does this group have a bank account? How will you pay the deposit?”
    By the way Virginia was standing there chewing her bottom lip, Kay thought her next executive decision would be to fire Carol Ann and her committee. But she just shook her head, sighed. “It’s my fault for not checking in with your committee, Carol Ann. I just assumed you guys were handling all these details.”
    Carol Ann opened her mouth to make an excuse, but Virginia cut her off by addressing the group. “Well, it’s clear the time constraints involved with tying up all these loose ends mean the houseboat weekend is probably a no-go.” Then she glared at Carol Ann and said, “But we’re still going to send that email and let everyone know what’s going on. Maybe we can give it another try in the spring.”
    If there was anything else on the agenda it was clear Virginia didn’t have the wherewithal to bring it up. She was done. The meeting adjourned to the kitchen and Kay asked for directions to the bathroom. She needed to splash a little cold water on her face.
    “Well Kay, that’s what you get for not listening to your gut,” she said aloud to herself in the mirror. She had wasted a gorgeous outfit, not to mention an entire Saturday evening. Kay knew she wouldn’t be making this mistake again.
    Oh well, you probably dodged a bullet.
    She pictured Delbert Shoemacher standing on the topside deck of the boat, clad in Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirt, black socks and sandals, big straw beach hat with the frayed edges, offering her a pina colada with that hungry wolf leer while he ripped a big, stinky, lactose-intolerant fart.
    As much as she wanted to, Kay knew she couldn’t hide in bathroom all night. With a deep breath, she rejoined the group in the kitchen standing at the refreshment table chatting while they plunged chips into dip, speared cocktail franks with toothpicks, and built slider-sized sandwiches from an array of cold cuts and cheese. Nothing appealed to her, including the conversation. Luckily, she spotted a makeshift bar set up on one end of the table and made a bee line for the bottle of red wine so graciously provided by someone who clearly understood the need for liquor at this queer gathering.
    It was a cheap Merlot, but Kay didn’t mind. It was just what the love doctor ordered. She stood off to the side, sipping her wine, trying to be inconspicuous. Her plan was to finish the drink and then beg her leave.
    Oh, shit! The crock pot.
    Normally, she would have taken the time to empty what was left into a bowl and wash the pot before transporting it back home. But not tonight. She didn’t want any unnecessary delays. The pot lid was going on and it would go, as is, into the bamboo tote.
    She took a step toward the table when she heard a man’s voice say, “You’re not coming back, are you?” She turned to see Delbert, whose amorous leer had been replaced by a look of stony disdain. Even the tone of his voice had gone from welcoming to near intimidating.
    “I’m sorry?” Kay asked, feigning ignorance.
    “I’ve seen your type before. You come here with your pretty face, tight pants, and tasty cheese dip, looking for the guys with the six packs and the fast cars. And when you don’t find them, you’re outta here. You bitches never give nice guys like me a chance. I may not look like Tom Selleck, but at least I know how to treat a woman.”
    But before Kay could say anything in her defense, Delbert walked away in a huff with an audible “toot”