“You could ask her if we see her.”
“Is she here?”
He was counting on it.
“She may be.”
Molly stretched her neck to search the crowd as they wound through the vestibule and down the aisle to find a seat.
“I don’t see her.”
Neither did he.
But Charley had mentioned once that he’d run into her after the early service, suggesting she was a regular churchgoer. And with her afternoon tea schedule, this timing would better suit her.
He chose a seat that gave him a line of sight to the door, and five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she entered.
“She’s here!” Molly tugged on his arm, her stage whisper drawing a few glances from those seated around them.
“Yes. I see her.”
“Can we talk to her after church?”
“We’ll try.”
But she might slip away fast . . . perhaps during the final hymn.
Not much he could do about that—unless he could somehow communicate to her that Molly wanted to say hello.
He caught her eye as she settled into a pew near the back. Smiled.
She returned it—though hers seemed tentative.
Molly waved.
Her smile broadened.
Logan pointed at his niece, then at Jeannette, and made the familiar talking gesture with his thumb and four fingers.
A few beats passed, but at last she dipped her head, then redirected her attention to the front as the organ struck up the notes of the opening hymn.
Logan tried to concentrate on the Scripture readings and Reverend Baker’s sermon. He really did. But he was as antsy as his niece for the service to end so they could talk to Jeannette.
The instant the last note of the final hymn died away, he took Molly’s hand and guided her through the crowd surging toward the exit. If they dallied, his neighbor could have second thoughts about hanging around.
But true to her word, she was waiting for them in the vestibule, standing by herself off to the side.
“Hi, ’Nette!” Molly pulled free of his hand and trotted over to the dark-haired woman.
“Hi, Molly.” She got down on the girl’s level and whispered in her ear. Molly’s countenance brightened as she listened.
She rose as he joined them. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I’ve been sharing your photos and texts with Molly. Sounds like the abandoned kitty is doing well.”
“So far, so good.”
“But at the expense of restful slumber.” The faint shadows under her lower lashes were new.
“I can make up the sleep if I need to.”
No ifs about it. But rather than risk insulting her appearance, he let it pass.
“Have you named our friend yet?”
“No.” Her features flattened. “What’s the point? I’m not keeping him.”
“Can I name him?” Molly’s face lit up.
“It might be better to let the people who adopt him pick his name, honey.” Jeannette rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What if they didn’t like the one we chose?”
A logical response—but why did he think there was more to her reluctance to name the kitten than the future owner’s preference? The anonymity of a nameless creature allowed her to keep more of a distance—and arm’s length appeared to be her modus operandi.
Molly cocked her head. “Well, I’m going to call him Button. They can change it later. Or you could keep him.” His niece gave Jeannette a hopeful look.
“No.” His neighbor’s response was immediate—and vehement. “I don’t have time to take care of a pet. So . . .” She gave them both a smile that was a tad too bright. “What are your plans for today?”
“Chores—and we’re going for a walk on the beach later with Toby.” Logan left it at that. Molly might have more luck getting a positive response to an invitation than he would.
As he’d expected, she picked up his cue. “Do you want to come?”
He could see the conflict, followed by regret, in Jeannette’s eyes—and knew what her answer was going to be.
“Sundays are very busy for me, honey. People come to tea in the afternoon, and I have to get ready.”
“What about later?”
His niece got a gold star for persistence.
“I’ll probably be tired—and I have to take care of the kitty.”
“Welcome, folks.” Reverend Baker joined them, putting an end to that discussion as he shook hands and gave Molly a pat on the head. “I’m not lingering to chat today. Father Murphy and I are running some supplies over to the Shabos’ in between services, but I wanted to say hello. You knew about the fire, didn’t you?”
Logan frowned. “What fire?”
He listened as the cleric gave him a shorthand version of what had happened yesterday.
“Man. That’s the pits, after everything else they’ve been through.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Reverend Baker lifted his hand in greeting as Father Murphy entered and hustled over. “Morning, Kevin.”
“Morning. Hello, folks.” The priest nodded to him and Jeannette.
“You’re ten minutes early.” Reverend Baker tapped his watch.
“I wanted to grab a doughnut in the fellowship hall.”
“I thought this was doughnut Sunday at St. Francis?”
“It is . . . but yours are free.” The padre smirked at his fellow cleric. “Besides, as the good book says, it’s blessed to feed the hungry. You’ll find that in Matthew 25. And Isaiah 58:7 clearly says to share your food with the hungry. There are a host of other references to that subject too.”
“I’m aware of that—but you may be stretching the message of Scripture a bit with doughnuts.”
Father Murphy grinned. “Close enough.”
The minister folded his arms, lips twitching. “You know . . . you may have a point—especially about the Matthew reference. It does mention doing good deeds for the least of our brothers . . . and here you are.”
“Ouch.” The priest grimaced, his eyes twinkling. “I should have seen that coming.”
Reining in a chuckle, Logan looked at Jeannette. He didn’t have much experience watching clerics interact, but these two were a hoot.
She appeared to be struggling to contain her own mirth as the two men bantered.
“Maybe we should have another joint Bible study with our churches this summer to help you bone up on your Scripture,” Reverend Baker said.
“Hah. May I remind you which church won the Bible edition of Trivial Pursuit at the end of last summer’s session?”
Reverend Baker gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You got easy questions.”
“For the record . . . that’s not true.” The priest directed his comment to the audience of three, then turned back to the minister. “But enough of this debate. We should move on to more important matters—like doughnuts and deliveries. Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot. You can wedge yourself into the back seat, next to the toilet paper.”
“Gee thanks.” Reverend Baker straightened his clerical collar. “You’re lucky I’m such a great sport.”