‘I decided to stop and see you first, Olivia’s in a meeting ’til one.’

‘Great to have you home. How about a cup of tea?’

‘Tea! You have tea!’

He had bought two boxes of peppermint—one for Happy Endings, just in case. He plugged in the kettle.

‘Do you like running the bookstore?’

‘Absolutely. And all for a good cause.’

‘Dooley says you and Sammy and Harley are redoing the rose garden at church.’

‘Can’t wait for you to see it next spring. We’re pretty excited.’ He put a tea bag in a cup.

Barnabas got up and made his way to the one who, with Dooley, had saved him from certain death after the hit-and-run incident.

‘Barn! You look so handsome in your bandanna. I’ve missed you.’

Barnabas received her affections, sniffed her boots, sprawled at her feet.

‘How did you know what you wanted to do with your life, Father? I’m constantly trying to figure that out.’

‘I’m not sure I figured it out. I was chiefly motivated by the notion of changing my father’s heart if I became a priest.’

‘Did you change his heart?’

‘I don’t think my priesthood ever mattered to him in the way I hoped it would. God knows. What do you want to do with your life?’

‘If . . . Dooley and I get married, I would like to work in the practice with him. But would that be . . . I don’t know, enough?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I wonder about making a commitment to the practice and then discovering it isn’t enough. I love art, I feel I chose the right major, but I don’t feel I have the luxury of becoming an artist. I should probably just learn to make a mean roast chicken with fingerling potatoes.’

‘You can make roast chicken and pursue your art, one doesn’t exclude the other.’

She smiled. ‘But if I pursue my art, would there be money for roast chicken?’

‘You have a point.’

‘I don’t know. I hope I’m not wasting my time in this major.’

‘God will use it for good, is my guess. He doesn’t like to waste anything; he’s thrifty as a New Englander.’

‘If . . .’ she said again, but didn’t finish the thought. ‘We’d like to have children. Four, actually.’ Her cheeks colored. ‘There would be geese and goats and chickens—and Dooley is talking about cattle and the children could have horses. Think of all the fertilizer for the fields and garden! And there’s that wonderful pond and the big creek and the woods . . . we want the whole hundred acres to be chemical-free. We know we can’t save the world, but we can be kind to our hundred acres.’

Here was a veritable cornucopia of information. Clearly, Lace was the go-to on such matters of the heart, not Dooley.

He was grinning like a kid. ‘If anything were ever enough,’ he said, ‘that should be it right there.’

‘In the end, it all seems too much to contemplate. And it’s such a long time to . . . finalize things. Dooley has to finish college, then four years of vet school, and I have two more years . . .’

She put her hand to her forehead. ‘I just don’t know . . . the world is so big and the opportunities so totally endless. You and Cynthia have always helped me figure things out . . .’

‘Maybe it’s too soon for you to try and figure things out. Know that God has a plan for your future. Watch and wait for his timing, and when it comes, hitch a ride. You’ll know.’

She sighed, gave him one of her ravishing smiles. ‘You’re right. I’m always fretting over something.’

‘Let’s have another look at your ring. Oh, yes. Beautiful!’

‘It’s a friendship ring.’

‘Right.’

‘Which leaves everything between us wide open. I really wanted a ring that, you know, said this is one thing, at least, that’s for sure, we can face all the unknown stuff together.’

He had no salve for this.

‘At the same time,’ she said, looking brighter, ‘I’m glad for it to be a friendship ring.’

‘Good!’

‘Because he is my best friend—most of the time. And I really work on that being enough. People tell us to wait, not to get married while he’s in vet school, there’s a lot of divorce in vet school. But six years . . .’

‘When we were in Ireland, you and Dooley had a conflict.’

‘I punched him. That was bad, I know it was bad. That’s what was done to me, so it’s what I learned to do, but I know it’s wrong and I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s no excuse, but he was making me crazy with being late, sometimes for hours.’

‘He and I had that issue.’ He handed her the cup of steaming tea. ‘Drove me nuts. Maybe it’s because he never had any control over what was happening to him as a boy. Being late was somehow a way of taking charge. Is he doing better?’

‘Yes. He knows that making people wait is wrong, just like I know that punching him is wrong. We struggle, Father. Instead of acting out the old stuff we were brought up with, we’re trying to create our own relationship. Something . . . brand-new.’ Her amber eyes were flecked with green.

‘You love him, I can see it.’

‘More than anything.’

That alone should be enough, he thought, but of course it never is. Courage has to come in there somewhere, and perseverance and forbearance and patience and all the rest. A job of work, as Uncle Billy would say, but worth it and then some.

•   •   •

IT WAS CHILLY in the store. He left the wool scarf wound about his neck.

He had just unwrapped his sandwich when an older couple came in, holding hands. He didn’t often see people holding hands these days.

‘Ralph Henshaw!’ said the man. ‘Retired from vacuum cleaner sales in Ohio to the comparative ease of the mountains of North Carolina!’

‘Ralph, Tim Kavanagh.’ They shook hands.

‘My wife, Delores.’

‘Call me Dot,’ she said.

‘Happy to see you. How may I help this morning?’

‘Well, for several months, Dot and I have considered a move from First Baptist in Wesley to one of your fellowships in Mitford, Lord’s Chapel being a strong consideration. From what I’ve heard from my golf buddy, a lot of Baptists become Episcopalian, though Episcopalians strongly resist becoming Baptist.’

‘I would agree with that,’ he said.

‘We thought a bookstore would be a neutral place to ask a few questions about your local churches.’

‘Glad to help,’ he said.

‘One thing I’m wonderin’ is if real wine at communion has anything to do with th’ drinkin’ those people are famous for.’

‘There’s a thought.’

‘I certainly don’t believe grape juice does the job,’ said Ralph.

‘Me neither,’ said Dot.

‘But I do wonder if a taste of the real thing at the altar is what gets them started in the first place. Anyways, Dot and I figure we’re old enough to take a little vino and not let it affect our entire lives.’

‘Right,’ said Dot.

‘I’ve heard those jokes about Baptists,’ said Ralph, ‘how they won’t speak to you in the liquor store, and some of that is true . . .’

‘Definitely,’ said Dot.

‘Truth is, us Baptists like a little shooter now and then, just not right out in your face with every Tom, Dick, and Harry lookin’ on.

‘Now, here’s the big consideration. We’ve heard that Episcopalians can be more than a little on the stiff side. I have to tell you, we tried that crowd over in Sandusky, but only one time. It was the solemnest-looking bunch we ever came across. Right, Dot?’

‘Really,’ said Dot.

‘Here’s what else I heard. The other Sunday your pastor down at Lord’s Chapel cried. Right out in front of everybody. Not talkin’, not preachin, just bawlin’. That might be a little liberal for us. So we thought if things don’t work out down there, how about the Presbyterians?’

‘Talk about solemn,’ he said.

•   •   •

HE COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING.

‘What’s going on?’ said Abe.

‘I just realized I had my scarf . . . around my neck . . . and they couldn’t see my collar . . .’

‘That’s funny? No. You want funny, have you heard the one about Rabbi Goldman and the Brooklyn Bridge?’