Free Sweet Carolina Morning by Susan Schild Page A

is too big.”
    Kate patted her arm. “Come on. Let’s at least look at it.”
    In the vestibule, Linny gaped at the familiar green and white signage for Starbucks and a directional arrow to the Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Bar. One colorful banner read, Join us Wednesday Night at 7:00 for Christian Karaoke! and another, The Ten Commandments Were Not Called the Ten Suggestions! Linny winced.
    In the cavernous sanctuary, Kate reverently touched the tongue and groove oak on the walls and ceiling. “Jerry would love this woodwork. It must have cost a fortune,” she whispered.
    As they stood admiring a wall of stained glass, a silver-haired man stepped out of the church office, saw them, and gave a cheery wave. “Welcome, ladies. You must be Linny and Kate. I’m Dr. Willis Faison. Do come in.” He made a sweeping gesture and ushered them into his office.
    Dr. Faison gazed at them expectantly and in a voice like the radio announcers on the NPR station, asked, “How do you like our church?”
    Kate enthused, “It’s stunning, and you have ice cream and coffee and karaoke!”
    â€œEven with our very tight budget, we try to keep up with the times,” he said with a chuckle. Gesturing for them to take seats, he held the crease in his pants legs as he sat, his gilt-framed Muncy College Divinity School degree on the wall behind him. “So, you are looking at our church for your wedding?” he said to Linny.
    Her mouth went dry. Possibly. Seemed unlikely. “Yes, that’s it.”
    â€œGood, good.” Dr. Faison nodded. “Now, are you and your fiancé members of our humble congregation? I am still new here, but I don’t believe I recognize your face.”
    â€œNo, sir.” Why was she kowtowing? Linny sat up straighter in her wooden chair. “My fiancé and I are looking for a church, though.” She squirmed in her seat at giving the correct answer.
    His eyes narrowed. “Are you now?”
    â€œYes.” Linny flushed. Neither she nor Jack were big on organized religion.
    â€œWe don’t usually marry walk-ins,” he said, his blue eyes cool.
    Linny smarted and her face flamed.
    Kate jumped in, looking earnest. “Our mother is a new but very active member of your church. She was thirty years at First Baptist before the fire last fall.”
    The minister shook his head, frowning. “That fire was a shame.” He pushed up the sleeves of his dove-gray cashmere sweater. “Of course they weren’t adequately insured either.” He pursed his lips, reminding them, “The Lord helps those who help themselves.”
    Linny shot Kate a look, and her sister gave her head an almost imperceptible shake.
    He slipped on a pair of silver half glasses, and glanced over the top at them. “Remind me of your mother’s name?”
    â€œDottie . . . Dorothy Taylor,” Linny said stiffly.
    â€œJust one moment, please.” Raising a finger, he wheeled back from his desk in his Herman Miller chair, rose, and trotted into the empty office next door. Through the glass half partition of the wall, they could see him sit down in front of a computer.
    â€œHe’s awful,” Linny whispered, feeling the cold knot in her stomach.
    â€œI know,” Kate admitted, frowning as she watched him peer at the screen. “I’ll bet he’s pulling up records of donation amounts to see how much Mama’s contributed.”
    Her scalp prickled with anger. “That can’t be much. Mama’s on a fixed income. He’d marry us in a minute if she was a big donor.” Linny knew how this would play out. He’d give them an unctuous smile and tell them that, unfortunately, the church was booked solid for the next year. She turned to Kate and said softly, “I’m going to fire him before he fires me.”
    Dr. Faison stepped into the room, looking regretful as he slid into his chair.