Along the way, I developed a whole new sense of how hard Robyn’s job was. Her study saw a steady stream of visitors. Most of them, from the small bits I could overhear, were well-meaning volunteers who wanted her to make some decision that I’d have made myself. Her voice carried better than most of theirs, so I had a chance to appreciate her patient, gentle attempts to empower them to make their own decisions. Me, I’d have been tempted to just shout “I don’t care! Figure it out yourself!”

At least every ten minutes either Lightfoot or Vess would appear in her office. Sometimes both at once. I never had any trouble overhearing every word they said. Usually they were complaining about each other, although both occasionally took a few verbal jabs at the Shiffleys doing the construction. Randall Shiffley showed up a couple of times to repeat that if everyone would stop bothering him and his crew they could have the construction finished by three o’clock when the choir practice was due to start. And Minerva Burke showed up a few times to calm down Lightfoot, who kept declaring the concert off. I finally decided he was serious, and apparently so did Minerva. A few minutes later, Reverend Wilson arrived and told Lightfoot off in the tone of voice he usually reserved for his summer revival hellfire and damnation sermons.

“And if you still feel unable to continue,” the reverend boomed, in tones people could probably hear in the next county. “I’m sure Sister Burke here would be happy to take your place. The concert must and will go on!”

After that Lightfoot made himself scarce for a while.

Although after both Reverend Wilson and Robyn left, he and Vess both showed up again and turned their wrath on poor Riddick. After his first encounter with them, the poor man actually ducked into my office to hide from Lightfoot, only to be so startled at finding me there that he jumped and hit his head on the corner of a broken-down five-drawer wooden file cabinet.

I jumped up to make sure he was all right, and closed my office door partway to conceal him.

“Why do they have to be here?” he whispered. He was holding the heel of his hand to the brow ridge just above his right eye, and I remembered Mother saying that he was a martyr to migraines.

“Well, Robyn did offer Reverend Wilson the use of Trinity for the concert,” I said. “And it’s a wonderful chance to show how well the church looks for the holiday. But I think you have a point. Mr. Lightfoot doesn’t seem to appreciate our hospitality, so while I’m rearranging, I’ll see if I can move any other events he’s involved in to other churches. The Catholics have a big sanctuary. Maybe I could schedule him there.”