I tilted my head up to his, remembering that I’d broken up with him because I wanted to protect him, reminding myself that nothing had changed. Just as I was about to move my mouth the last inch toward his, that heavy old door with the ancient, creaky springs began to open. Elliott literally jumped away from me, and not a moment too soon.

“Father Matthew!” I said. “I’m just here doing altar guild,” at the same time Elliott was saying, “I fixed your ladle!”

He looked from me to Elliott and back to me, an expression on his face like he knew he should probably care about what was happening here, but he decidedly did not. Father Matthew was a man in his late sixties with gray hair and a world-weary expression. But he came alive behind the pulpit. It was an interesting thing to watch, a moment that felt like callings were real.

“All right, then,” Father Matthew said. “Have my vestments been altered for morning prayer?”

Right. Morning prayer. Which was now, or, well, almost now.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Leslie called as she bustled in with a basket that smelled like it contained some sort of baked good, Bonnie on her heels. My altar-guild partners in crime were both wearing slim black pants with different-colored ballet flats and printed blouses, as though they were in middle school and had coordinated their outfits but didn’t want to match exactly. Bonnie’s shoulder-length hair was held back by a thin tortoiseshell headband. Everything about her style screamed efficient! She made fun of Leslie incessantly for growing her hair out long again and coloring it back to the red of her youth. I thought it was cute.

“Thank goodness for you, Alice,” Bonnie said. “Seven just gets earlier and earlier, doesn’t it?”

Leslie handed Father Matthew the basket. “I was late because I was making these muffins for you,” she said sweetly.

“Suck-up,” Bonnie said quietly, only to me.

Elliott laughed. “I should be going,” he said as I pulled the plain silver handle of the small closet that held Father Matthew’s vestments. It stuck a little, the paint catching in the humidity.

I looked over Father Matthew’s head. Elliott winked and mouthed Call me. Bonnie’s eyes went wide. “It’s true! He’s back!” she whispered. “Are you two an item again?”

Great. That news would be all over town by afternoon. No one had bigger mouths than Bonnie and Leslie. Were they Juniper Shores Socialite? Nah. I doubted they would venture into the world of Instagram. Why would they when plain old word of mouth had served them so well?

Leslie slipped the vestment on Father Matthew, and he wordlessly left the small room, seeming relieved to get away from all these women, as usual.