The priest smiled back, wondering if all the contestants on The Big Question would be elderly or terminally ill.

DP walked up to the receptionist, who looked fourteen or fifteen, tops. She boomed, “Hi!”

Father Brady looked behind him to see who she was shouting at. Realizing it was him, he said, “Hello.”

“You’re applying to be a contestant for The Big Question, right?” she yelled.

“Right.”

“Great!” she boomed.

The girl handed the priest a clipboard and ballpoint pen. “Please take a seat, any seat you want, and fill out the contestant form attached to the clipboard. Also, please read the rules of the game that are explained on the last piece of paper. Hurry back, now!”

The young girl with the exuberant voice was wearing jeans and a man’s blue button-down oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The buttoned buttons started about four down from the top. The young girl was showing a great deal of cleavage. The priest hurriedly took the clipboard and ballpoint pen and found a seat. He was about to begin filling out his questionnaire when he sensed he was being watched. The priest looked up and saw the dowdy woman sitting in a chair against the far wall he noticed when he first entered the room. She was looking his way, still smiling her pallid smile.

When their eyes met she asked, “From out of town, Father?”

“Yes. I’m from Philadelphia.”

“I’m from Steubenville. That’s in Ohio. This is my second trip to New York. I had several bad experiences on my last trip. I was caught in a terrible snowstorm, I had my wallet stolen, and I met a very rude man who went to great lengths to embarrass me in the hallway of the Sherry-Netherland hotel. I sure didn’t think I’d ever come back to this place. Tell you the truth, I had plenty of second thoughts about trying out for this show. I’ve never been lucky in New York. If these TV people hadn’t offered to fly me, I wouldn’t have come. That’s what they did, they paid for my plane ticket. Both ways. I told them about myself over the phone. I explained how I had lived long enough without my Norville. Norville was my dear husband. He died a long time ago. Too long a time. I told the person on the telephone I truly wanted to see my Norville again, but if I won the millions of dollars I certainly would have plenty of uses for the money. I would spend the money on dozens of good causes. Like I said, I told the TV people if they didn’t fly me here from Steubenville I wouldn’t come. I told them where I wanted to sit on the plane. On the aisle. I told them if I couldn’t sit on the aisle I couldn’t come. I had a bad experience when I flew to New York the time before. I was sitting between these two—”