Kat tried not to laugh.
I've already moved in with that man! He shouldn't be dating other women!
Nola jumped up from the dining room chair and disappeared into the kitchen. I'm starving, she said from the interior of the refrigerator.
No, you're not starving; you're anxiety-ridden! Kat called after her.
And I just read an article that said you should never eat when you feel anxious because the stress hormones turn the calories directly into abdominal fat.
When Kat got nothing but dead silence as a response, she glanced up to check on Nola. She was leaning against the kitchen pocket door, arms crossed defensively across her chest.
So you're saying I'm fat? she whispered, incredulous. First you make my boyfriend the prized stud at the county fair, and now you tell me I'm /fat/?
Kat would have busted a gut laughing if Nola didn't look so forlorn.
Have you talked to him, like I suggested? Kat led Nola into the living room and sat her friend down on the love seat.
Nola sighed. Yeah. I talked to him last night.
And? What did he say? Kat's cell began ringing, but she didn't answer.
Aren't you going to get that? And you never did reassure me that I wasn't fat. Nola was clearly in a huff.
The phone can wait. You're not fat. What did Matt say? Kat sat down next to her.
He said not to worry, that it's just an auction thing where people can bid to get him out of jail and then go out to eat with him. It sounds stupid and harmless, but I'm just a little freaked about it.
Kat smiled at her. I understand. But you can bid, too. You could be the one to pay his bail and get the date.
Nola's eyes lit up. I could, couldn't I!
The doorbell rang. Over her shoulder Kat called out, Come on in!
Nola sighed and went on. I just don't want that big-ass breakfast-in-bed owner to get her hooks in him again, that's all/ohmigod/.
Kat watched as Nola's eyes widened and she sank back into the love seat.
Hello, ladies, Madeline said. I hope I'm not intruding. I did just try to reach you on your cell to say I was coming up the walk.
Madeline was tempted to take the fresh-baked pumpkin loaf she held in her hands and grind it into Nola's face. If it weren't for the fact that the bread was far too light and fluffy to inflict any harm, Madeline would have thrown it at her.
Hey, Madeline! Kat got up from the sofa. Come on in. We're doing some planning. Join us.
Madeline took a tentative step inside Kat's house, thinking that it must be nice to have the kind of money that made it possible to order absolutely everything being sold between pages 1 and 100 of the Pottery Barn catalog. Even the rug was gorgeous. Thanks, Madeline said, following Kat through the living room, keeping Nola in her peripheral vision. I brought you a pumpkin loaf. It's just a sampling of what I might be able to whip up for the fund-raiser.
Kat reached out and accepted the gift from Madeline. That was very nice of you. Would you like a cup of coffee and maybe a slice of this obviously delicious bread? Kat put her nose to the cellophane and hummed with delight.
No, thank you, Madeline said, taking a seat and pulling a clipboard from her shoulder bag, pleased that at least Kat knew fine baked goods when she saw them. What kind of crowd are you expecting at the benefit? Her eye caught Kat's Thanksgiving to-do list.
I'm hoping five hundred, but you know, Madeline, before we get started, I was wondering if we could clear the air between us. Kat took her seat.
We're going to be working together for the greater good, and I just live a block from Cherry Hill, so I was wondering, are you willing to meet me halfway? Can we just let bygones be bygones?
Nothing Kat Cavanaugh could have said would have stunned Madeline more.
It took her a moment to pull herself together. She surprised herself with what came out. The fault is mine, Kat. I'm the one who should be apologizing.
Kat didn't say anything. Nola did, however, which shouldn't have been a shocker. Well, now's your chance, hon, she said, passing through the dining room on her way to the kitchen.
Madeline pursed her lips and made doodles on her clipboard, so irritated with Nola What's-Her-Face that she could spit. I am happy to apologize to /you,/ Kat. Madeline glared in the general direction of the kitchen before she returned her eyes to Kat. It was wrong of me to tell you that horse-hockey story about the wedding. Carrie kind of pushed me in that direction, and it was a horrible thing to do. I hope you accept my apology.
Kat gave her a smile. Apology accepted.
You don't have to do everything she tells you to, Madeline, Nola said, suddenly deciding to return to the table. She carried a thick slice of the pumpkin loaf on a plate.
Outwardly, Madeline ignored the comment. Inwardly, she sharpened her claws. If she'd known Nola would be the one snarfing down her loaf, she'd have added a half cup of ground glass.
Madeline picked up the benefit flyer and read through it, trying to calm herself. When she reached the line about Matt putting his affections on the auction block, her stomach did a somersault. Carrie made /excellent/ money. She could bid for Matt, take it right up to the stratosphere, then lay some lovin' on thick for Nola to see.
When Madeline looked up, Nola was staring at her. She gave her friendly smile, then returned to the flyer. True, the event was one day after Carrie's Thanksgiving deadline, but hey, Madeline was flexible if she was anything.
Let's get started then, she said. On her clipboard she began to divide the benefit food into categories. I've already committed to the desserts, she told Kat. My team will do the cakes for the cake walk, of course, and a dozen or so each of pies and dessert breads, but mostly we plan to focus on quantity and ease of presentation, as opposed to haute cuisine.
Rice Krispies treats? Kat asked.
You know it. Madeline went down the list in great detail. I've got at least six women on each committee, except for meats, which has more, and breads and rolls, which has fewer. I'm afraid there'll be some store-bought items from that crowd, since none of them are handy in the kitchen.
Whatever you say. Kat looked overwhelmed.
Is there anything we might have missed?
Kat's mouth fell open a bit. Madeline, I just called you two days ago.
How in the world did you get all this done so fast?
This sort of thing is right up my alley, she said, actually feeling good about contributing to the event. She packed up her bag and got ready to go. So, have you decided whether you're going to let Joanna Loveless do her annual Thanksgiving Day feature on you?
Kat blinked. Uh…
She's the head of your meat committee, you know. Madeline told Kat that in the hopes that she'd understand the gravity of that particular responsibility. It appeared she didn't, so Madeline broke it down for her. Joanna's got twenty women on her team, and you can only imagine the cost involved in something like thatwe're talking ribs, smoked hams, turkey breasts, pit beef, steamers, sausages…
That's lot of meat, hon, Nola said to Kat.
Madeline smiled as she left. As soon as she hit the sidewalk she was on the phone with Joanna, telling her the Thanksgiving article was a done deal and that Kat would be hosting a houseful.
Riley was on call and had an admission in Elkins that night. Kat was tired but filled with the feeling that she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to. After a long, hot shower, she got into her softest cotton nightgown, matching robe, and warm slippers and headed to the end of the upstairs hallway. She opened the door and retrieved the open box from the bottom step of the attic stairwell, where she'd left it. She carried it to the floor of her bedroom, and told herself to breathe.