“You worry too much,” he said again, as if this was of little significance.
“Peter, you should seriously consider what you’re doing.” She needed a moment to clear the shock of this from her mind to help her brother understand the ramifications of this decision. “What if one of the church members hears of this?” She blurted out the first thing that crowded to the forefront of her objections. Peter simply had to listen to reason.
“What if they do?” he asked, completely unconcerned.
Her brother had lost his mind. She was astonished that he would be so blind to the risk he seemed all too willing to take. “You could lose your position.”
“That’s doubtful. Come on, Grace Ann, you’re overreacting. It’s only for a few days in another town twenty miles away. It’s unlikely I’ll run into someone from Bridgeport, and even if I do, so what?”
With her mind spinning, Grace Ann pressed her hand against her brow as if to help her sort through all the thoughts bouncing around inside her head. Her brother was delusional and required help. This was crazy, and from the look of him, she’d rarely seen him more excited.
“Do you think people who come into a tavern don’t need God in their lives?”
“But…”
“It’s the perfect opportunity for me to meet people who wouldn’t ordinarily attend church.”
“Ah…”
“Grace Ann, you’re looking pale all of a sudden. Do you need some air?”
What she needed was for her brother to tell her this was all part of some silly joke. From the way he studied her, she could see that wasn’t about to happen.
“I don’t know what Hank said to convince you to commit professional suicide.” Peter’s friend was a constant source of irritation, and always had been from the time they were in grade school. He’d insisted on calling her Gracie, even though he knew she detested the name. This, though…this was above and beyond, she couldn’t let Peter do it, for his own sake and the sake of his ministry.
“What about your duties here at the church?” Peter couldn’t meet the needs of the church and at the same time work at The Last Call. It wasn’t humanly possible.
“I’ve got that covered.”
He’d found a substitute pastor? That seemed highly unlikely, especially at this late date. “Who’s going to fill in for you?” she asked.
“Hank.”
The breath left her lungs. Even before she could find the oxygen to breathe again, Grace Ann started shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening. Hank serving as a pastor…She couldn’t think of anyone less qualified.
“You’re joking, right?” She sincerely prayed she’d misunderstood him and this was all part of a bad dream. If so, she wanted to wake up soon.
“No joke. I know Hank isn’t your favorite person.”
Her brother had no idea.
“How? Why?” At first, she’d assumed Hank had asked Peter to fill in as a favor. As an emergency.
“It’ll be fine,” her brother said soothingly. “We’re trading places for a few days, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” she repeated, too stunned to say anything more.
This was a disaster in the making and she wanted no part of it.
CHAPTER THREE
Hank relaxed against the sofa and rested his feet on the ottoman, crossing his ankles. What a treat to have Monday Night Football all to himself. Mondays were as busy as weekend nights at The Last Call during the football season. He was often run ragged, filling orders, delivering pitchers of beer, and doing his best to keep everyone happy. Rarely did he get a chance to actually enjoy watching the game. This was about as close to heaven as he was likely to get. Football, uninterrupted. Yup, life didn’t get much better.
His afternoon had been busy. Pete showed up at the tavern a couple hours after they’d left Mom’s Place. He’d stopped off at the church to collect his things before reconvening with Hank. The better part of what was left of the afternoon was spent with Hank showing Pete the ropes. He almost felt guilty leaving Pete alone. But a deal was a deal.
Howard Cosell’s familiar face showed on the television screen, along with Don Meredith, as the commentators for the game between the Dallas Cowboys and the San Francisco 49ers. There’d been a lot of talk about the Cowboys player Tony Dorsett, and Hank was eager to see the running back in action.
Seattle had gotten a football franchise the year before, and their games were the highlight of the week. It’d changed Sundays at The Last Call. Jim Zorn, the Seahawks’ quarterback, and his favorite receiver, Steve Largent, were Seattle royalty. Hank knew a few guys from Bridgeport who were lucky enough to get tickets to a game at the Kingdome. There’d been talk of little else after their return. Seattle was definitely in the big time and had been ever since the World’s Fair was held there in 1962.
Hank wasn’t surprised by how neat and orderly Pete’s house was. He felt a bit guilty because his own place, above the tavern, was a mess, with dirty clothes littering the floor, though he did his best to put it in order before Pete arrived. With so much else to do to prepare for the switch, he’d barely made a dent. Dirty dishes filled the sink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done any real housecleaning. Pete hadn’t complained, although he had every right to expect clean sheets and a made bed.
By contrast, the parsonage was spic and span: almost as if the only time Pete spent there was to sleep.
Other than the list of duties Pete had handed him, the one bit of advice his friend had given was about Gracie.
“You should know Grace isn’t keen on this idea.”
“I didn’t think she would be.” Hank could easily picture Gracie’s pursed lips when Pete told her about their agreement.
“Go gentle with her,” Pete had advised.
“Of course.” Hank planned to stay as far removed from Gracie as he could manage.
“She means well,” Pete added.
“Sure, she does,” Hank had said, and struggled to disguise his sarcasm. Never in all his days had he met anyone more self-righteous than Grace Ann Armstrong. The woman had her nose so far up in the air that she was in danger of drowning in a rainstorm.
The phone in the kitchen rang. Hank’s gaze momentarily left the television screen. The Cowboys had just gotten their first touchdown, and nothing was going to tear him away from the game. Besides, it was after five and he was off-duty. Whoever was calling would need to get in touch with the church office in the morning.
After nine persistent rings—he counted them—whoever was calling thankfully gave up. Good. The noise was an irritant and made it difficult for Hank to follow Howard Cosell as he reviewed the plays on the field.