‘I will honor your request as far as Hastings is concerned. Beyond that, I can’t promise to keep the lid on when it comes to the mention of God.’

The man appeared to be trembling. Nearly imperceptible, but yes.

‘Do you always wear a collar to administrate the workings of a bookstore?’

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I am a priest, bookstore or no.’

‘Must you push it in one’s face?’

‘It shows there’s a place to run, if need be.’

‘Many have run to the collar with disastrous results.’

‘That’s not my affair, Professor.’

‘It seems a cliché to wear it outside the pulpit . . .’

The collar was clearly a sticking point with the professor, who stood before him in the cliché cardigan with elbow patches.

‘. . . unless, of course, you’re using the bookstore as your pulpit. A clever notion, but I am not charmed.’

‘This is who I am. There’s nothing to be done about it—I belong to God.’

‘While I, sir, am my own.’

‘George McDonald called that notion the guiding principle of hell. Have you read McDonald? He was a great influence on C. S. Lewis.’

Yes, the professor was trembling. McCurdy turned abruptly from the counter and walked toward the door.

‘Just curious, Professor McCurdy—are you Irish?’

The door jangling open, then closing.

•   •   •

HE SAT ON THE STOOL, depleted, his dog at his feet.

‘Thank heaven for you, Buddy.’

He remembered a fragment of an epitaph written by a fellow named Hobhouse, for his dog.

‘“. . . one who possessed Beauty without Vanity,”’ he said aloud to Barnabas.

‘“Strength without Insolence, / Courage without Ferocity, / And all the virtues of Man without his Vices.”’

‘That’s you, my friend, and God bless you for it.’

He went to the yellow backpack and pulled out a dog biscuit. The Old Gentleman took it with great delicacy.

He needed to run. He needed to visit Louella. He needed to get in touch with Coot about a cleanup. He needed to get after the privet at Children’s Hospital—this was the last and best chance for pruning. He needed to rest. He needed a car. He needed to work on his Latin.

As much as anything, he needed a break. Any break would do.

He left a message in J.C.’s voice mail and called Mule. ‘How about checking out breakfast at Feel Good in the morning? Eight o’clock. Be there or be square.’

•   •   •

CYNTHIA ARRIVED with a shopping bag from Village Shoes, to buy a birthday card for Olivia Harper.

‘The economy booms when you come to town,’ he said.

She gave him a hug. ‘Irene said Sunday after church would be best for her. I told her it isn’t Children’s Hospital business, there’s somebody who’d like very much to meet her. Somebody special, I said. It was hard to find the right word.’

‘Special definitely works.’

‘She didn’t seem crazy about the idea of meeting a perfect stranger—Irene is shy. Anyway, two o’clock. And we can’t meet there, she said, because her house is given over to ladders and drop cloths. I think we should do it at Happy Endings, on neutral ground.’

‘Good.’

‘I’m jittery. What if this doesn’t work? I’d hate for us to be the ones . . .’

‘“For God has not given us the spirit of fear,”’ he quoted from Timothy, ‘“but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”’

Because he was feeling anxious himself, the scripture was mostly for his own instruction.

‘You’re worn out, Timothy. I don’t like this.’ She stood next to his stool and rubbed his back. ‘You had your shot this morning?’

‘I did. I’m fine. Don’t worry.’

‘I love you.’ She looked down at him with that small pucker of her forehead; he felt wasted, somehow.

When she left, he remembered he hadn’t turned on the music today. He selected something from Mozart’s ‘light and happy pen.’

The thought of calling a movie star on her private line made his knees weak. Realizing that he couldn’t do it standing, he went to the Poetry section and dialed her cell number from the wing chair.

•   •   •

‘TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN DOLLARS and ninety-five cents.’

Why weren’t the receipts better, especially with the O Sale in effect? What did they need to do to get paying customers in here?

‘You sound weary,’ said Hope. ‘I think I should pray for you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That would be good.’

<Want to add time to your busy schedule?

<Call Emma!

<Punctuation & spelling still spotOn

No balm in Gilead.

From the window by his desk in the study, he saw Harley’s truck lights bob into the driveway. In the gathering dusk, he could see that Harley was alone in the cab. Good. He had no stomach for a surly Sammy Barlowe.

‘Yo, Harley!’

Harley, he reckoned, would rather not see him. Harley felt responsible for Sammy, was shamed that he couldn’t manage the boy’s behavior.

‘How about if I borrow your truck tomorrow? I’ll pay your rental fee, of course.’

‘You won’t pay no rental fee, I can tell y’ that. It’s yours all y’ want.’ Harley took a deep breath. ‘What you gon’ do, Rev’rend?’

‘Prune a hedge, put down a little mulch.’

‘Nossir. About Sammy.’

Harley was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

‘Nothing.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I need two pruning shears with your sharpest blades and three yards of mulch. Can I get three yards of your best stuff?’

‘What time d’ye need it?’

‘Ten o’clock on the dot.’

‘I’ll git it loaded an’ be back before ten. How’s that?’

‘That’ll work. Can Sammy use a little extra cash?’

‘Yessir, he can. That citation costed him a hundred an’ fifty dollars.’

‘Ask him to be ready when you bring the mulch. We’ll stop at Lew’s to see the car; I need to get my hog-ring kit out of the glove compartment. Then we’ll run over to Children’s Hospital to the hedge project. We can knock it out in maybe four hours.’

‘Yessir, this is y’r last chance to prune before winter. I can go over with ye, I can give a hand.’

‘Thanks, but I want him to be stuck with me for a while. Just the two of us. It’ll be good punishment for rotten behavior.’

Harley cackled. ‘I ain’t never knowed nobody like you, Rev’rend.’

‘An’ I ain’t never knowed nobody like you, Harley.’

How was he really feeling about all this, about some out-of-control kid stealing his car and wrecking it?

He went deep and discovered the truth. He was furious.

Chapter Seventeen

We should have a Main Street Grill reunion,’ he said.

‘Great idea,’ said Mule. ‘I’ll give Percy a call after church tomorrow—invite him to join us at Feel Good. Maybe Tuesday.’

‘Save your breath,’ said J.C. ‘Percy and Velma are out of town.’

‘Where?’ he said.

‘On a cruise in the Bahamas.’

‘On a cruise? In the Bahamas?’

‘He deserves it,’ said J.C. ‘For forty-some years, he got up at four o’clock every morning so he could open at five.’

‘For forty-some years, I’ve gotten up at five, and I’ve never been on a cruise.’

‘If you get up at five instead of four, you don’t get a cruise. You get a road trip in a ’49 Chevy Cabriolet.’

Mule stirred his coffee. ‘Anytime you say, boys, y’all can look like you’ve been on a cruise in th’ Bahamas.’

‘Here it comes,’ said J.C. ‘He gets ten percent every time he drags some poor geezer up to A Cut Above. They put th’ guy in th’ box, hit th’ spray nozzle, and out walks George Hamilton.’

‘Who’s George Hamilton?’ said Mule.

‘I know what I’m havin’,’ said J.C. ‘Two eggs over easy, peppered bacon, a buttered biscuit, cheese grits, and, out of respect to my wife, the captain, a fat-free yogurt.’

He studied the bill of fare.

Welcome to our new Saturday morning breakfast menu

Special today only:

Heuvos Rancheros