Ruth rolls her eyes. “Longitudinal mixed-method show-off,” she mutters.

A young man, holding a baby, also stands. His hair is twisted into an unruly bun on the top of his head. “Do you plan to do any air-quality monitoring near the playground?” he asks.

Man Bun looks at Sister Agnes Mary. Sister does not recognize him. He must not be Catholic. This does not bother her. She smiles warmly at him, and he smiles back. The crowd, which Sister notices is full of young families, has gone rowdy.

Tommy's face is calm, but Sister can see a wet spot under the left armpit of his shirt. Sister remembers Tommy's little boy fascination with the capillary action of plants, his delight at the way blue dye stained the fringed edge of a white carnation. She wonders how she could have failed, so utterly, to instill respect for God's creation in him, in any of them. “We don't typically monitor the air—” Tommy continues.

“What we do,” John says, interrupting, “is check all the equipment on a biweekly basis to make sure it's functioning correctly. We can address any problems right away. As long as we know the filters are working, you can be sure the air is within allowable levels.”

“So you won't be monitoring, and you don't have any studies about how this will affect the children,” Mano says. “Just to be clear.”

“You tell him, Mano,” Sister says.

“Yeah, Mano, you tell him,” Gretchen echoes. The child turns to face Sister, goes up on tiptoes, grabs Sister's other hand as well. It is like dancing, like ring-around-the-rosy.

“Well, Sister, Mano, I appreciate your concern. But I know that you, that we all”—here John draws his hand, palm open, in front of his chest, indicating that he is one with the crowd—“want our children to be well fed and cared for. This is how we recover from the recession. These jobs are going to get our town moving in the right direction.”

Sister can see that most of the crowd agrees with John, that Man Bun is an exception. Sister sees young mothers nodding, hears murmurs of support. A few people applaud. One man pumps his fist in the air and says, “Right on, John.”

Man Bun begins arguing with this other citizen, and the crowd dissolves into chaos until Tommy is able to get the video projector to work. He dims the lights and sits down, looking relieved. John March stares daggers at Sister.

Ruth rushes out after the video. Other people mill about the basement, drinking coffee, eating cookies that have begun to stale. Mano holds a sleepy Gretchen in her lap. The atmosphere calms into something like resignation. Father Morel approaches Sister.

“Mr. March is a generous parishioner,” Father says. “His own children will be on that playground. You should be more respectful.”