The interior of Forest Chapel Methodist Church was bathed in the warm glow of candles, humming with the melodic chorus of singing parishioners, and swelling with the magical aura of the Christmas spirit. Naturally, some of the younger children were restless and fussy, and some of the older children pretended they weren’t enjoying themselves, but for the most part, the entire congregation became one swaying, praying, love-filled entity, which was precisely what Jesus deserved on the eve of his birth. Praise the Lord.

It was after the services ended that the warm and magical, love-filled, but also perfectly scheduled and structured evening began to unravel. For one thing, Vivian Dalton must have been launched from her seat in the pew by holy catapult before the hymn had even ended, as she was the first person up at the pulpit to wish Reverend Alsop a merry Christmas. Betty, who was always the first person to the pulpit, suddenly found herself second in line. Standing behind Vivian, fuming at that hideously tacky hat, and wondering if that was liquor she smelled coming from Vivian, as she had to wait her turn.

Betty shook Reverend Alsop’s hand in both of hers and gave him the most fervent “Mer-ry Christ-mas” she could muster, in an effort to be the most memorable since she had not been the first. She then remained at the front of the church, and made polite small talk with Mary and Gerald Houder, as she tried to temper her fuming on the eve of Christ Our Savior’s birth. Louder Houder, as some referred to Gerald in their less charitable moments, was testing her nerves. He refused to wear a hearing aid and always demanded that everyone repeat everything. “What’s that? I can’t hear you. Speak up. Louder!”

“I SAID”—she raised her voice to an almost-shout—“ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR GRANDCHILDREN?”

Vivian acted as if she hadn’t even noticed Betty standing behind her, and had wished Reverend Alsop a theatrical “Merry Christmas,” and then made her way back toward her family. From the corner of her eye, Betty could see Eddie Dalton was talking with John Randall, and the Dalton girl had plopped back into the pew next to Lacy Granger and they were probably talking about how they wished Margie would include them in her social group. Margie was extremely popular at school. Betty glanced between the Daltons and the faces of Mary and Louder Houder, and saw Vivian standing behind Eddie while he talked to John. The two men were likely discussing something related to snow shovels.

Betty knew Charles was probably thinking of the stiff martini he planned to pour as soon as the Millers returned home, and was shaking hands with their fellow worshippers, moving down the center aisle. When he reached Vivian Dalton, Betty’s antennae shot up and her attention suddenly snapped completely away from Louder Houder. He had been able to hear her just fine this time, but only because he had moved to just two inches away from her, and had obviously forgotten his Clorets. She shot her glare in Charles’s direction. Vivian was positively fawning over Charles, brushing imaginary threads from his suit, touching his arm repeatedly, and then fingering his pocket square; fluttering her eyelashes as she giggled in a manner better suited to someone much younger than she.