“Most of these old relics used to be in my study,” Robyn went on. “I’d have exiled them to the undercroft until this spring’s rummage sale, but the undercroft’s already packed tight with Mrs. Thornefield’s belongings.”

“Mrs. Thornefield?” The name sounded familiar. “Oh—the lady who left her entire estate to the church.”

“God rest her soul,” Robyn said. “Yes, and we got a very good offer a few weeks ago for the house—well above its real value, if you ask me.”

Clearly she wasn’t yet familiar with Caerphilly’s chronic housing shortage.

“But the offer was contingent on the buyer being able to move in by Thanksgiving,” she went on. “So we had to empty the house, and rather than spend money on storage, we just brought all the stuff here and stowed it in the undercroft. Where frankly it’s driving me bonkers.”

I could understand why—Robyn clearly shared my preference for clean, uncluttered surroundings. I still couldn’t get over how she’d transformed the previous rector’s dark, claustrophobic study into a bright, inviting, airy space.

“But that’s a problem for another day,” she said, in her brisk, businesslike tone. “Here you go.” She pointed to the sturdy, battered desk that turned the space just inside the door into a cramped but usable work space. The top of the desk was empty except for a telephone, a legal pad, and a few pens and pencils stuck into a cracked coffee mug with the red, white, and blue Episcopal shield on it.

“The other churches are either dropping off their schedules or e-mailing them to you,” she went on. “Here’s the password for our wireless router. Dial nine to get an outside line. And if you need anything, I’ll be out in the sanctuary, helping with the setup. And Riddick will be in his office next door. I’m sure he’d be happy to help as well if you need anything.”

I nodded, though I doubted I’d want to ask for help from Riddick Hedges, Trinity Episcopal’s office manager, bookkeeper, and general factotum. Apart from the sexton he was Trinity’s one paid staff member. I had no idea whether he was genuinely overworked or merely bad at multitasking and constantly feeling overwhelmed as a result, but he could generally be seen darting about the church in a state of high anxiety, wringing his hands and getting in the way of anyone who was performing actual useful work.