Saints Among Us Read online

  “Good. Now, I’m concerned that if I put this in the mail it may not arrive before you leave. Is there any way that someone could pick it up in the next few days? I live in Potterston, which I realize is out of your way’”

  “Oh no, ma’am, that’s not a problem. I’ll be happy to stop by this week on my way to work. I’ll call first.” Alice hardly could believe her ears. Even if the article in the paper yielded no other results, this one donation would be a wonderful gift to offer the camp.

  Jane again had her notes for the crafts fair spread out on the kitchen table when Alice came through the door after work. She immediately jumped up and grabbed the newspaper from the counter. “Your article is in the paper!”

  “Yes, I heard. I already received one call about a donation.” Alice pressed a hand to her heart. “The paper wasn’t delivered by the time I left for work. I’m afraid to look. Do June and I sound rash for rushing off on an ill-advised journey?”

  Jane had to laugh. “Not at all,” she assured Alice. “It’s a lovely article. I predict lots of donations,” she said as she passed the newspaper to her sister.

  “We’ve already had an amazing start.” Alice explained Mrs. Daughtry’s telephone call to Jane.

  Jane whistled, impressed. “That’s awesome. You just never know what the good Lord is going to provide, do you? You look tired. How was your shift?”

  Alice shook her head with a wry smile. “Interesting. One of my dementia patients got out of her gown and went wandering down to the first floor before anyone realized she was gone.”

  “Oh my! I bet that startled more than a few people. The poor woman. She would be mortified if she knew. Will she remember it?”

  Alice shook her head. “Thankfully, no.”

  “I thought people with dementia usually go to nursing homes.”

  “Yes, but they get ill like anyone else. Actually, probably more often. Flu and pneumonia can tear through a nursing home like that hurricane ripped through Florida.”

  Jane shivered. “That’s awful. Is it wrong of me to pray that I never get to the point that I have to go to a home?”

  “I believe God understands. We all have a fear of that.” Alice indicated the papers on which Jane was working. “New recipes?”

  “Crafts fair. I have a nice assortment of things lined up for the church to sell. And you won’t believe it, but Florence is organizing about half of it.”

  “How did you manage that? At the board meeting, she was positive it could never succeed.”

  Jane shrugged. “Honestly, I think she was simply suffering from hurt feelings. I tried to make her feel as if I valued her opinion—which I do—and she became very helpful. In fact, there are only two more things yet to confirm.”

  “What are those?”

  “I need to ask the Sunday school teachers if their classes would be willing to make up packages of ‘Christmas Cocoa.’ I found a really cute idea in a magazine. You make a blend of powdered cocoa, cinnamon and a few other spices and place enough for a one-serving drink in a sandwich bag. You add a little cellophane twist of marshmallows and a candy cane and then punch a hole at the top of the bag for ribbon. Before tying the ribbon, you attach a holly leaf tag with instructions on it.”

  “Very cute and very inexpensive,” Alice murmured. “Especially if a group volunteers to work on it. It’s a perfect project for the children.”

  “Speaking of perfect projects for children’” Jane began.

  “I know, I know. You want the ANGELs to make macramé bracelets.”

  “How did you know that?” Jane was surprised.

  “News travels fast in this town. I’ll be happy to organize it, Jane, but I will have to get someone else to actually oversee the project, since I’ll be away.”

  “Maybe one of the mothers would help.”

  “I’ll check and let you know.” Alice paused before heading upstairs to change out of her work clothes. “Were there any packages for me today?”

  “Oh!” Jane sprang out of her chair. “Thank you for reminding me. The UPS man brought two boxes. I put them in the front hall because I didn’t know what else to do with them.” She led the way to the front of the house. “I think they’re from Mark. What on earth do you think he sent you?”

  “Relax, matchmaker.” Alice laughed. “It’s only supplies for me to take to him in Florida.” Then she caught sight of the boxes. “Good heavenly days! Mark must think we have a U-Haul trailer.” The boxes were at least three feet square, wrapped in brown paper and heavily taped.

  “I feel so much better knowing that Mark is going to be in Florida.” Jane waggled her eyebrows knowingly at her older sister. “And you’re going to meet him there.”

  “Oh, Jane, it’s not like that and you know it!” Alice was exasperated but she had to laugh. “True, I do still find Mark attractive, but it’s not as if we’re planning to elope. We’re going south to make a difference in the suffering of so many poor animals. I doubt there will be a lot of time for socializing, and I can’t imagine the atmosphere will be remotely romantic.”

  “One can always hope,” Jane retorted, turning to go back to the kitchen.

  Louise did not sleep well. Thoughts of the Christmas crafts fair had marched incessantly through her head. She tossed and turned.

  She awoke late on Thursday, feeling as tired as if she had just completed an exhausting piano concert on which she’d worked for months.

  What if the fair was a disaster? How could Ethel possibly plan a successful event in little more than a month? Why had she ever opened her mouth to suggest that it be a Christmas event?

  Louise made her bed, showered, then dressed in a classic navy skirt with a white sweater set. As she fastened her pearls around her neck, she reminded herself that her intentions had been good. She had been thinking long-term. How in the world could she have known that Ethel would consider attempting it this year?

  When she went down into the kitchen, Alice and Jane had already finished with breakfast. Jane was tracing a holly leaf pattern onto dark green construction paper, and Alice was carefully cutting out the leaf outlines.

  “I can’t believe she’s seriously trying to pull this off,” Louise announced to her sisters.

  Jane’s hands stilled halfway around the leaf. Today she wore a hunter-green tunic over ivory wool slacks. The silhouette of an old woodstove was appliquéd to the tunic.

  Alice, more casually dressed in jeans and a tan sweater, stopped just as she was about to begin cutting another leaf. Carefully, she set down her scissors. “Who might ‘she’ be, and what might we be discussing?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Louise served herself some of the cream-cheese coffee cake Jane had made yesterday and pulled out a chair at the table. Jane had placed a cheery arrangement of yellow and white mums in a cut-glass container on the table, but its beauty was lost on Louise. “I didn’t sleep well. How could Aunt Ethel think that trying to pull together a crafts fair in a few short weeks is a good idea? She clearly doesn’t have any idea—”

  “This is Aunt Ethel you’re talking about,” Jane reminded her, going back to her tracing. “The woman has more energy than the three of us put together.”

  “And,” said Alice, “she has a certain way of making things happen.”

  “Yes, but’”

  “Why don’t you give her a call after you have some breakfast?” Jane suggested. “Share your worries with her. Maybe she’s having second thoughts about attempting it, and she just needs to hear someone else voice concern.”

  “You’re just hoping you don’t have to gather a whole lot of crafts.”

  “I’ll have you know I already did gather quite a selection.” Jane gestured to the holly leaves. “Alice and I are getting some things done for a project the Sunday school classes have agreed to take on.”

  Ordinarily, Louise believed in eating slowly. She believed it to be better for the digestion. But today she raced through her breakfast, then called Ethel. Luckily, her aunt was home and wa
s more than happy to talk about the crafts fair with Louise.

  Shortly before nine, Louise left the inn and walked briskly along the flagstone path to the carriage house, where her aunt had lived for the past decade.

  Ethel opened the door the moment Louise stepped onto the small front porch. “Good morning, Louise. Please come in. I’m happy to entertain any ideas for the crafts fair.”

  “I don’t really have ideas,” Louise hastened to explain. “I’ve been thinking more along the lines of all the logistical things that have to happen in order for this to succeed. Aunt Ethel, are you still sure you want to tackle this in such a short span of time?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Sit down, dear, and tell me what you’re concerned about. What can I get you to drink? Would you like a little snack?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I just finished breakfast. But thank you for the offer.” Louise took a seat on the couch, laying her jacket over the back of the nearby rocking chair. So much for trying to talk her aunt into waiting until next year. Louise had heard that tone of voice before, the one that meant Ethel had no intention of backing down. She took a deep breath. “Well. Let’s talk money first. What is your budget for food and planning?”

  “But I’m on the board,” Ethel said blithely. “I know what the church’s budget can handle.”

  “All right.” Louise could see that she was getting nowhere fast. “What do you plan to do about advertising?”

  “Advertising?” Ethel made it sound like a word from a foreign tongue.

  “You might try to get the newspapers to do an article for you since it’s the first time you’re trying it and it’s a charitable event. That would save actually placing an ad, which would add to your expenses.”

  “A newspaper article.” Ethel nodded. “That’s a very good idea, Louise. Is there anything else you can think of?”

  Louise was just scratching the surface. “You’ll need boxes to be decorated and set in front of each raffle item, and you’ll have to make a sign advertising the raffle. You’ll also have to make a sign for the baked-goods table, so people understand all the proceeds from that will go to Helping Hands and not into some stranger’s pocket. And you’ll need a price list for the baked goods.”

  “I can have someone make one.”

  Louise nodded her head slowly, telling herself all she had to do was plant the seed. “All right. How about change?”

  “Change? What would we want to change at this point?”

  “No, Aunt Ethel, not changing things. I mean money. You need change in case your customers hand you large bills.”

  “All right, Louise. You’ve made your point.” Ethel rose and walked into her small kitchen, returning a moment later with a folder and a pen. She made a production out of opening the folder and extracting a notepad, then crossed one leg over the other and said, “I’m taking notes, so I can write down anything I haven’t already considered.”

  “Well, if you plan to sell drinks and sandwiches, you’ll want to ask around to see who can give you the best prices. Some of the ladies from the social circle might make soup if you asked them to, but you need some kind of sandwiches.”

  Ethel made a dismissive motion. “I’ll get a tray of turkey and ham.”

  Oh dear. Louise’s anxiety level reached a new high. “I don’t think you want to purchase an arranged tray, Aunt Ethel. That’s costly. See if you can get a bargain from a butcher or deli. You might even get a better price on the meat over in Potterston,” she mused.

  Ethel was scribbling madly, but she paused at that suggestion and looked up. “I couldn’t do that to the Acorn Hill merchants,” she said in a shocked tone. “I like to keep my shopping in the community. If everyone goes somewhere else to shop, small businesses like those in our little town won’t be able to stay open.”

  “I agree, but this isn’t your personal shopping you’re talking about. You want to spend as little as possible so that when all the proceeds are matched against the initial outlay, you will make a nice profit to donate to Helping Hands.”

  “Louise, I am not willing to ignore our local shops just for the sake of a few dollars.” Ethel’s tone was quite definite.

  Louise took a deep breath. “Perhaps you are right. Let’s move on. We need to figure out how many volunteers will be needed in each area and how long their shifts should be.”

  “Oh, I thought I’d have sign-up sheets at our next Seniors Social Circle meeting.”

  Louise sighed. She so wanted the seniors’ group to make a success of this. If it didn’t go well, Ethel might never get a second chance. Louise took another deep, fortifying breath and a long moment to compose herself. Lord, she thought, give me patience. Aunt Ethel’s heart is in the right place. “I think you’d do better with more structure,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sure the ladies in the Seniors Social Circle will be willing to work the whole day, just like I am. After all, this is for a good cause.”

  Momentarily speechless, Louise gazed at her aunt. Searching for tact, she said, “That might be expecting a bit much. After all, you are in far better health than many of your friends.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Ethel preened, pleased by Louise’s statement. Then she frowned. “But we’ll have to work to find enough people to fill all those hours. I wonder if Alice’s ANGELs are old enough to be reliable assistants.”

  “Perhaps with the food and the raffle, but we hardly could ask them to oversee the vendors.”

  “Oh well.” Ethel shrugged. “The good Lord will help us make this happen.”

  It sounded very much like what Alice had described her aunt saying at the board meeting. “I hope so.” Louise’s comment was heartfelt.

  “Thank you for your suggestions, Louise.” Ethel set down her pencil. “I’ll add them to my list of ideas to consider.”

  Louise raised one eyebrow. Ideas? As far as she was concerned, the things she had said were imperatives.

  “There’s more,” she said grimly, determined to give her aunt all the information she could. “Have you thought about how to measure and lay out the space for the booths? You really should measure the Assembly Room.”

  “Oh, I’ve decided not to use the Assembly Room,” Ethel said breezily. “I think that we’ll set up several large tents outside. We can make it a real community event, with face painting and party hats for the children, and hot apple cider’”

  “Outside? It is going to be cold in December!”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ethel said, raising her eyebrows.

  “I’m sorry,” Louise began. “I don’t mean to be rude. But I do not think you realize the scope’”

  “You can’t stand not to be in charge, Louise,” Ethel said. “I know you’d love to take over this crafts fair and show everyone how much better you could organize it.”

  The attack was so unfair that Louise did not even know how to respond. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. For the first time in quite a while, she felt the sting of tears behind her eyelids.

  “I want you to succeed and I’ve been worrying myself sleepless,” she said calmly. She said another prayer for patience before continuing. “I thought that I could give you some guidance since I have experience with this kind of endeavor. I was wrong. I apologize.” She turned and began striding for the door, grabbing her coat without a pause and sailing out onto the porch.

  “Louise?” She heard a tremble in her elderly aunt’s voice, but Louise didn’t trust herself to speak kindly, so she kept going down the steps and across the flagstones.

  Chapter Six

  T he walk back to the inn from the carriage house took less than a minute, not nearly long enough to calm down. Louise was still seething when she stepped through the kitchen door.

  Jane, at the sink, took one look at her face and picked up a platter full of brownies. She held them out to Louise. “Oh dear. It didn’t go well?”

  Louise did not respond. It was an indication to Jane of just how upset her eldest sister was. Loui
se took a brownie, then sank down into a chair at the table, miming banging her head against the wood.

  Alice was still at the table, gluing instructions for the Christmas Cocoa mix onto the holly leaves she had cut out. She rose and stood behind Louise. “Take a deep breath.” She placed a hand on her sister’s back and rubbed small circles. “Try to relax a bit. Then you can tell us all about it. Sharing a burden can lighten your load.”

  In this case, Louise wasn’t so sure about that. But she drew a napkin out of the holder near the center of the table and laid down her brownie. “Thank you,” she said, looking up as Jane set a glass of cold cider in front of her.

  “I would have made tea, but you already have steam coming out of your ears.”

  “Very funny.” But Louise was beginning to feel a little calmer.

  Alice pulled out a chair at the end of the table and sat, picking up the cider Jane also had poured for her. “So how bad was it?”

  Louise just shook her head. “I feel as if I’ve just returned from talking to a wall. Aunt Ethel seemed determined to ignore every sensible suggestion I made.”

  “Did she say she didn’t like your ideas?”

  “She never said that.” In all fairness, Louise could not say that Ethel had disliked the things she’d said. “But she resisted me every step of the way. And just as I finished, she got angry and accused me of wanting to take over her position as chairman.” She huffed. “As if.”

  Jane was agog. “Are you kidding? She didn’t.”

  “She most certainly did.” Louise was getting revved up just thinking about it again.

  Alice reached over and patted Louise’s arm. “Oh, Louise, I’m so sorry. But you know how she is. It’s very important to her to feel needed and necessary. Her feelings get hurt over the tiniest imagined slight, and she can make a mountain range out of a little ant hill.”

  Louise had to laugh at Alice’s twist on the cliché.

  “No wonder she and Florence are such a volatile mix,” Jane commented. “They both need to be handled with kid gloves.”

  “What, exactly, did she say?” Alice asked.