Trouble's Brewing by Eva Marie Everson, Linda Evans Shepherd

think about. In the process of serving as Goldie’s wedding consultant, I could achieve my ultimate goal, the presidency of the Potluck Club. Move over, Evangeline Benson. I’ll be wielding your gavel yet.
    I surveyed my beautiful new parlor. My colors were exquisite, ivory and gold with touches of pinks and sage from my lovely arrangements of silk roses and framed cherubs. Then, there was the antique oak counter Henry had just refinished and put into place the night before. It glowed in leaded beveled glass, revealing a display space already a swirl of ivory satin. Soon I’d have a few baubles to nestle there—bridal necklaces of pearls and crystal, sparkling tiaras, and silk bouquets.
    The massive cabinet had been fitted with a lovely marble top that held not only my antique cash register but also a lovely silver tray covered with a batch of my fresh chocolate meringue kisses and my silver decanter filled with freshly brewed vanilla coffee. The coffee was ready to pour into my lovely collection of ivory and gold Royal Doulton teacups.
    It was step one of my marketing plan.
    With my shop right on Main Street, across the street from the Higher Grounds Café, I planned to become the information center of town. With my fresh-baked goods and hot coffee, I would woo those who either had access to the latest in the romance gossip or who needed my help in finding a mate. I already had my college son, Nelson, on the job, looking to set up my new matchmaking software that would help my shop become the area’s dating service hot spot.
    Yes, making matches is definitely one of my spiritual gifts, one I would employ on the dear citizens of Summit View, whether they knew they needed it or not.
    In fact, as I looked out my front window, I spied one of my prime wedding candidates, a Mr. Clay Whitefield, Summit View’s newspaper reporter, leaving the café and climbing into his rattletrap jeep. I opened the door of my shop and waved to him as he backed into the street.
    Clay looked both surprised and pleased to see me in the doorway. With a quick U-turn, he was parked right in front of my store.
    “Clay Whitefield,” I said. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
    Clay climbed out of his jeep. “Lisa Leann, it looks like you’re making a lot of progress with this old place.”
    “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said as I latched on to his elbow and tugged him through the beveled glass door. “I want to show you around and ask you to run a front page feature about what I’ve done here.”
    Clay let out a low whistle. “Lisa Leann, from the looks of this, I’d say you’ve given this town a touch of class. This is beautiful.”
    “Thank you, Clay. Of course, I’m not done yet. A lot of inventory has yet to arrive. But you can see that the space on the south end of the shop is set up to display a lovely selection of bridal gowns. We’ve got the dressing rooms set up, and I found this beautiful antique full-length mirror. Of course, you’ll notice this area is filled with natural lighting, giving our brides-to-be a natural blush. Plus a natural blush is what each of my brides will receive with her complimentary makeover.”
    “A makeover.”
    “Yes, see my makeup vanity in the corner? As I am a makeup expert, I will show the brides the best way to do their makeup for their wedding day.”
    “Looks to me like you’ve already had your first client.”
    “My, Clay, you are one observant fellow,” I said as I straightened my makeup brushes while I topped a tube of lipstick. “Yes, I just made over one of the members of the Potluck Club.”
    “Pray tell me, Lisa Leann, who was it?”
    “You’ll see my handiwork soon enough, because I’m telling you, Goldie Dippel absolutely glows.”
    “Goldie? Interesting. Why would she have a makeover, just after leaving Jack?”
    I gave Clay a sideways look. “Clay Whitefield, just how do you know about that?”
    “I’m the local news guy. I make it my business to