Free War Room by Chris Fabry

about that, but he’s a sales rep for Brightwell Pharmaceuticals.”
    “Mmm-hmmm,” Clara said, still glued to the pages. “And where did you say you attended church?”
    “We occasionally attend Riverdale Community.”
    “Uh-huh,” Clara grunted positively, like she was pleased to hear it. She looked up. “So you would say you know the Lord?”
    Elizabeth felt confused. Was this a counseling session or were they trying to sell the woman’s house? But she smiled and put on a good face. “Yes, I would say I know the Lord.” When Clara didn’t respond, Elizabeth leaned forward. “Do you think the Lord is okay with this asking price?”
    Clara ignored the question and it almost sounded likeshe was humming some kind of holy tune to herself. “And you have children?”
    Elizabeth was both annoyed and amused by the questions. She’d been through a lot of these meetings, but this was the first time she’d been grilled by anyone about her spiritual and personal life before signing off on the asking price.
    “Miss Clara, my husband, Tony, and I have been married sixteen years. We have one daughter, her name is Danielle, and she’s ten. She enjoys pop music and ice cream and jumping rope.”
    The woman’s face lit from the glow of the new information. “Well, that’s good to know,” Clara said, nodding and smiling. Instead of being satisfied with the information and moving back to the contract, she doubled down on Elizabeth’s spiritual life. “Now you say you attend church occasionally. Is that because your pastor only preaches occasionally?”
    What had been amusing and a little cute coming from an older woman was moving toward offensive. Elizabeth took a breath and tried to choose her words carefully. She didn’t want the sale to sour, but she had to draw a line in the sand. She had to be clear.
    “Miss Clara, I really would like to help you sell your house. That’s why I’m here. As far as my faith is concerned, I believe in God, just like most people. He’s very important to me.”
    The woman dipped her head and with hands foldedgave a pained grunt. “Ummm.” She rose from her chair, saying, “Let me get our coffee.”
    Elizabeth watched her move slowly past and wondered if that would be the end of the spiritual grilling.
    From the kitchen, Clara’s voice rose to carry through three rooms. “So if I asked you what your prayer life was like, would you say that it was hot or cold?”
    Why in the world would the woman want to know about Elizabeth’s prayer life? Clara kept stepping over the line Elizabeth had drawn. But she was sure Clara didn’t mean to offend. She was amiable and kind. It was certainly easier to work with her than with some of the other clients who were hyper and asked Elizabeth to cut her commission in order to make the sale. Instead of placating, Elizabeth decided to answer truthfully. Just go with the flow.
    Elizabeth spoke up so the older woman could hear, though she didn’t seem to have any problems with her hearing. “I don’t know that I would say it’s hot. I mean, we’re like most people. We have full schedules. We work. But I would consider myself a spiritual person. I’m not hot, but I’m not cold either. Just somewhere in the middle.”
    She felt proud of the answer. It was honest and forthright. She’d made clear that she was serious about spirituality   —but not to the point of fanaticism. She hoped that would get the conversation going in the right direction.
    Clara returned to the table with two cups. “I’ve got cream and sugar if you need it.”
    “Oh no, thank you. I like it black.” Elizabeth took the cup as Clara sat. She took a sip and set the cup down again. “Miss Clara, you like your coffee room temperature?”
    The woman cradled the mug in front of her. “No, baby, mine’s hot.” She blew across her mug and took a satisfying sip.
    Elizabeth stared at her as if she were crazy, and then realized what the woman had done.
    Clara leaned in