Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I took the new key. “Thanks.” I hadn’t realized the locks were so ineffective. Maybe I should have him come do this to the church. “I actually came down here to check on you. I saw a guy taking the box you were carrying, and you looked upset.” I left out that I had been watching her.
“Ah, yes. That was Than. My cousin,” she explained.
“Did he leave already?” I asked, wondering how he had left that quickly. “I was going to thank him for the locks.”
She shook her head. “No need to do that. But I’ll let him know. He had to get to work.” She stepped back. “Did you want to come inside?”
Yes. Very much.
“No, I need to get back to the office. Just making sure you are good.”
“Yep!”
Mass, two scheduled confessionals with parishioners who worked evenings and couldn’t make it to the afternoon confessional hour, a counseling session with an engaged couple who I had my concerns about, the parish finance committee meeting that went through lunch due to the planning of the preschool, three hospital visits, reconciliation hour that only one person came for, and the youth prayer meeting, which consisted of the seven regulars and one guest, filled my Thursday, keeping me too busy to watch out my window at the building next door or come up with a reason to go over there.
Today, Sister Mena would be back at work, and while that should be a reason to keep me away, I already knew I was going to go check on Saylor. Make sure Sister Mena was appropriately thankful for all the work that Saylor had put into the clothes closet. The past three days, her car had been there when morning Mass ended and didn’t leave until after nine most nights.
Since yesterday had been nonstop for me, keeping me from going to see Saylor, I was curious to see what all she had done. Wednesday evening, I had stopped in to see it on my walk back to the rectory. It was almost ten, and Saylor had left thirty minutes before. The amount of work she’d put into the place in just those two days was incredible. I hadn’t known what to expect when she showed me her detailed binder, simply because I had judged her by her appearance and obvious wealth. She wasn’t a spoiled elitist. The girl had no problem getting her hands dirty.
I had one parishioner schedule reconciliation after Mass this morning, but as soon as that was completed, I checked from my window to see the pearl-colored Bentley already parked outside. Fourth morning in a row she was there by eight. It wasn’t like I needed another reason to like this girl. Her looks alone, the dimples, her vanilla and cinnamon scent—that was enough. Heck, go ahead and add the tiny gap between her front teeth to the list. Seeing her work so hard for free to help those less fortunate was only making this unwanted attraction worse.
Stepping out of my office to head over there and check on things, I almost collided with Sibby, holding two Starbucks cups. As I stepped back so we weren’t both wearing coffee, her overbright, verging-on-obnoxious smile morphed into a gasp.
“Oh, Father Jude, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed.
“No harm done,” I replied, already knowing this was going to hold me up.
Sibby held out one of the cups to me. “I thought you might enjoy a good coffee after Mass. Sister Regina was at the front desk and told me to bring it on back to you.”
Where was Kevin? He knew a visit from Sibby was the last thing I wanted. I took it, wishing she’d stop doing this. It was the second time this week. Last week, she had stopped by with Starbucks three times. The week before that, it had been once, but she had brought doughnuts another day and a lemon pound cake another.
“Thank you, Sibby,” I replied. “That’s very thoughtful.” Now, leave.
She glanced past me into my office, then bit her bottom lip. “I was hoping you had a few minutes. Perhaps we could talk in your office.”
Nope. Not happening. Not with this one. Whatever she was up to wasn’t a need for counseling. I did not trust her to be alone with me in my office. She had been raised Catholic, but for some reason, the fact that I was a priest, who had taken a vow of celibacy, did not register in her head. The flirting and possessive behavior she had been exerting more and more with me had to stop.
“If you would like to make an appointment for counseling, I have a few times available next week. I will check with one of the Sisters and see if they can join us,” I informed her, which I’d never done with another female, but Sibby required a chaperone. “My schedule today, however, is full. Prep for Sunday.”