The Sunshine Potluck Society

Chapter 21

With a slotted spoon, Joanna raised the golden samosa out of the hot oil and set them on paper towels to drain. They looked perfect. These were keema samosa, filled with minced mutton, yoghurt and spices. She’d also made several batches of vegetarian samosa. There were plates of samosa all over the kitchen bench. Perhaps she’d gone a bit overboard. But she wanted to get the recipe just right for inclusion in their book. And she wasn’t sure yet which version to use.

Should she go with the meat-based delicacy? Or the vegetarian one? Peas or no peas?

With a frown, she reached for one of the golden-brown pastries and plucked it open with her fingertips.

“Ouch!”

“You okay?” Emily asked as she walked into the kitchen. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

“I burned my fingers, but I’m fine. I need to know which of these to include in the book. Can you do some taste testing and tell me what you think?”

Emily’s long brown hair swung from a high ponytail down her bare back. She wore a strapless summer dress with a strapless bikini underneath. The two of them had gone swimming together earlier as part of Joanna’s physical therapy. Now they were working on the recipe book.

Emily reached for a plate and filled it with a variety of pastries. Then she took bites out of each.

“I like the vegetarian one with peas.”

“Me too, I think. I should get one more opinion, though, before I decide.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out and held it to her ear. “Yes, this is Joanna.”

“Good afternoon, Joanna. It’s Bobbie.”

“Oh, hi, Bobbie. How are you?” Bobbie was her editor. They’d worked together for over ten years now. Joanna had a soft spot for the woman who helped her meet her deadlines and gave feedback on her recipes. She always did it with so much grace and flair. She was good at her job and kind as well, which was a rare combination.

“I’m fine, thanks. I hope you’re working hard on the Sunshine Potluck Society recipes.”

Joanna grinned. “Of course. I’m finalising the samosa right now as we speak.”

“Glad to hear it because I need the final draft from you by Friday. Do you think you can manage it?”

“Friday?” Joanna’s heart skipped a beat. That was too soon. They weren’t close to being finished. She hadn’t even run the final content by the other ladies yet. Debbie hadn’t sent through the layout for the photographs. Gwen was so busy with the Surf Club fundraiser and everything else going on in her life, she hadn’t responded to Joanna’s repeated requests for approval of the decor. And Joanna and Emily still had about twenty pages’ worth of recipes and anecdotes to finalise. “Sure, Friday is good. We can manage.” She always said yes to her editor, even when she wasn’t feeling confident at all.

When she hung up the phone, Emily stared at her wide-eyed. “What about Friday?”

“She needs the final draft by then.”

Emily gaped. “What? We can’t do that. We’re not even close.”

“We have to,” Joanna said. “That’s the deadline they’re giving us, and they have good reason. There’s an entire team of people who need to do their part after us, and they need time to do that.”

“I’ll call Debbie and Gwen to make sure they’re ready to send through their content.”

“You do that. I’m going to see if Chris can help me decide which samosa recipe we should include.”

Joanna carried a plate piled high with pastries out the front door and headed across the yard and around the fence into Chris’s yard. As she did so, she noticed that the panic that rose up her spine was muted. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in the past. All of her hard work was paying off. She could cry, but then she’d have to explain her tears to Chris. So instead, she smiled to herself and blinked her eyes a few times, then knocked on his door.

He answered with a confused look on his face. “Well, hello. I’m not used to seeing you at my front door.” He opened it and ushered her inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I brought samosa,” she said.

“Okay. That sounds interesting.”

“It’s an Indian food, quite delicious. I think you’ll like it.”

“Not spicy, is it?” He led her to the kitchen, and she put the plate down on the bench. It was a small but tidy kitchen with a grey marble benchtop. The appliances were white, and there was a round white kitchen table by a set of bay windows that looked out over his back garden.

“No, it’s not spicy. Maybe a little bit of a kick. But nothing to worry about. You have a lovely house,” Joanna said.

“You haven’t been inside before?” Chris asked.

“It was a long time ago. I think you’ve renovated since then.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” he replied. “I redid the entire kitchen, both bathrooms and painted. It’s made a big difference to have so much white. Really opens the place up.”

“I agree. It looks lovely.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

She nodded. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”

“I’m so glad you came to visit me. I was just about to have some tea myself, and now I have company.”

He boiled the kettle and got out a china teapot with little flowers on it along with two matching cups and saucers. He spooned tea leaves into the pot. Then he filled it with boiling water. He carried the pot to the kitchen table. Joanna carried the empty cups.

They sat across from one another. Joanna realised it was the first time she’d sat down all afternoon, and the relief of it showed up in a sigh.

“Oh, it feels good to get off my feet.”

“I’m going to eat one of these delicious-looking parcels,” Chris said, reaching for a samosa. “And if I need a drink to cut the spice, I’ve got one now.” His eyes twinkled.

“Let me know what you think. Don’t be shy. I need the truth—it’s for the book.”

He took a bite. She watched his expression as he ate. Finally, he spoke. “Well, that was delicious. I’ll try this other one now.”

In the end, he tried all three of the flavours she’d brought with her and chose the same one she and Emily had picked, vegetarian with peas. She had her answer.

As he cleaned up after their tea, she wandered through the living area looking at the photographs on the wall. There were so many images—family, friends, travel. He’d lived a full life.

He soon joined her.

“Who is this?” She pointed to a photograph of him with a woman, her back turned to the camera. He was smiling down at her, his dark hair blown in the wind.

“That’s my wife, Katie.”

“Oh, is it? I didn’t recognise her.” The woman was young, her hair pulled into a high bun with tendrils of curls loose around her neck.

“She was very young then. Me too. That was when we moved away and lived in Ballina for a while. I don’t know if you recall that. You were probably busy with babies. I know we were.”

“I was very busy. And I remember you being gone, but I couldn’t tell you the dates. Those were full days.”

“They were,” he agreed. “Our thirties blew by in a whirl, and the twenties weren’t much clearer.”

“How are the kids?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I see them every now and then. Not as much as I’d like. But they’re in the thick of the busy times, and they don’t live close by, so I get it. I’ve thought about moving down to Melbourne to be close to one of my boys. But I never quite get around to making a decision. I love it here. Sunshine is my home and has been for most of my life. My friends are here. It’s hard to choose to move away from that to a big city where no one will know who I am or care.”

“I know what you mean,” Joanna said. “I’ve thought about Melbourne myself. My daughter lives there. Her children are almost all grown now. Actually, one of them is currently living with me, as you know. Aaron is her eldest. But she moved away after he finished high school and has been down in Melbourne for several years now. It’s hard to keep track.”

“I want to be close to them, but at the same time, I’m not sure they’ll have the room to give me much attention anyway. And I’d have to forge a new life for myself in a strange city. I’m not sure I’m up for that.” He set his hands on his hips. “Besides, I have lovely neighbours,” he dipped his head in her direction, “who keep an eye on me, and friends I’ve known for decades. I can go to the shops for my newspaper, and the people there know me by name. I always run into someone down at the beach, or at the bowls club, and have a good old natter together. I’d miss that. Can you imagine trying to make your way around in Melbourne all alone? I know my son would be happy to have me there, but he’s got work, and kids, and a social life of his own.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” Joanna agreed. “I couldn’t expect my daughter to spend every day with me. But here, I have Gwen and Debbie, Emily and Aaron. As well as you and a whole host of other people who have made sure I’ve been taken care of even when my issues have forced me to be cloistered in my house for much of the past decade.”

“I see you’re doing better there,” he said, beaming.

“Much better lately, thanks. I don’t know what’s done it, whether it’s the therapy or supportive friends, or maybe it’s that I’ve decided to push myself to do things I’m uncomfortable with. But whatever it is, it’s working.”

“Good on you,” he said. “You’re a wonderful woman, and more people need to have the opportunity to spend time with you. So if you can get out and bring happiness to others, then I’m all for it.”