Free The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake by Linda Evans Shepherd

Whittman leaned over the seat. “Is everything okay?”
    “Peachy,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Just peachy.”
    Before we could make it up the steps, Kendra Goodall, a face I recognized from Hollywood Nightly , stuck her microphone in David’s face and said, “Mr. Harris, it was always rumored that you were the illegitimate son of the famed Hollywood actress, Harmony Harris, and one of her leading men. So, we can put those rumors to bed?”
    I was surprised that David knew his way around a microphone. “Yes. Those rumors were false. Harmony’s publicist has prepared a statement in the event this became known. But in the meantime, I can tell you that the late Harmony Harris was my mother by adoption.”
    “So, you’ve come to Summit View, Colorado, to meet your birth mother, Vonnie Westbrook? According to the news story that came across AP last night, there were mysterious circumstances surrounding your adoption. What can you tell us?”
    David put on his sunshades. “No comment.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wade Gage’s truck come to a full stop as Wade swung open the door of his cab.
    Kendra said, “So, David, is the rumor true that you’re engaged to be married? Is this your fiancée?”
    The camera focused on both of us as Wade stopped dead in his tracks and David slipped a protective arm around me. “I have no comment to make at this time.”
    “Then you’re not denying the rumor?” The reporter shoved the microphone into my face. “Can you tell us your name and what it’s like to be engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood?”
    It was unlike me to freeze before a camera. How many times had I given a statement to the Denver TV news teams following a particularly spectacular automobile accident or rock slide? But this time, no words came from my mouth.
    Wade, dressed in his cowboy boots, jeans, and fleece-lined denim jacket stomped toward the reporter and pointed at her cameraman. “Why don’t you point that thing in another direction?”
    Kendra quickly motioned for her cameraman to turn the camera in Wade’s direction. “This is a free country, cowboy,” she said. “I can point our camera where I please. And if you don’t leave, I’m going to call in the local law.”
    Suddenly I found my voice as the camera whipped back to me. “That won’t be necessary,” I said as I flashed my badge, which I kept in my wallet. “I am the law, and you’re trespassing on private property. I think it’s time for you and your crew to leave before I call for backup.”

9
    Who’s That Girl?
    Clay would have tucked his tail between his legs and dragged himself home, but he needed to run to the office and handle some last minute details concerning the article he’d written and sent out the night before.
    As soon as he arrived in the modernized building, he headed for his personal cubicle, sorted through the mail the receptionist had left stacked in a black-wired mail drop, tossed the junk, and returned the rest. It was a Sunday. He’d read it tomorrow.
    He kicked back in his chair, turned on his computer, and deleted about a hundred forwarded emails. He skimmed the rest, grinning when he saw that he’d received an email from Britney, the new girl in town who worked at the Hallmark store. Her screen name was CardGirlBrit. Subject line read: Guess who?
    It had been sent just before noon.
    He opened it immediately.
    Hey, cutie. Bet you didn’t think I was smart enough to figure out your email address over at the paper. But, I am. I haven’t seen you in a while in the shop but caught a glimpse of you heading down Main Street yesterday in your Jeep and in church today. So, what’s up with that?
    And, what gives? You don’t have anyone to buy any more sweet gifts for anymore? Come to see me, okay? I’m working this afternoon from noon till five.
    “Cutie,” she’d called him.
    He’d head over there soon. A sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe two could dance to this