“Well, given the number of high-profile ministers who’ve been under the microscope here recently, I’m a little concerned. This letter appears to be an inquiry to address some person who has filed a formal complaint against you,” Stanley said.
“So what you’re telling me is that anybody could have called the IRS and said I did something inappropriate without producing any hard evidence to support their claim?” Pastor Landris asked.
“Yeah. Especially when it comes to someone in your position. You’re in a position of authority where you could be doing something wrong, and someone does need to watch out for that. Citizens who either give to the ministry or are watching out for crooks who prey on people in this area have every right to bring to the government’s attention people who might possibly be abusing or gaming the system.”
“Okay, so what do we do now?”
“I’ll call and set up a meeting with this agent, and we’ll see what’s really going on. Unless you have things that you’ve hidden from me and thus hidden from the government, this should be pretty easy to put to rest.” Stanley paused for a few seconds. “Are you sure you gave me everything? You don’t have any off-shore accounts? Any money you received under the table from someone who can prove that you did?”
Pastor Landris thought back to his eldest brother, Thomas. Thomas had messed him up some years ago by selling his millions’ worth of Microsoft stock without telling him he’d sold it, then proceeded to reinvest the money in some unsavory business practices, trying to make some extra money for himself. It had been a nightmare of a mess, but all of that had been straightened out with the IRS. Pastor Landris had paid the owed back taxes and penalties, which also happened to be in the millions, on the money, despite much of it having been lost and swindled, thanks to his brother. Pastor Landris had learned a valuable lesson during that period at a great expense: No matter what, you are ultimately responsible, so handle your own business, and handle it well. At least know everything that’s going on. Following that debacle, Thomas hadn’t been allowed anywhere near his finances.
Of course, Pastor Landris later learned that his brother suffered from a mental illness called bipolar disorder, which might have contributed to his impulses to recklessly throw money away. It had been rough in the beginning trying to get him help. Thomas had been doing well, seeing a doctor who started him on medication to help control the disorder. Then Thomas had gone through that period when he’d taken himself off his medication. With much prayer and love, along with a doctor’s help, Thomas was still on his medication and was even dating a nice woman who was spiritually strong in the Lord and didn’t take any lip when it came to Thomas doing right. Pastor Landris could see they were headed for the altar soon, although both Pastor Landris and Johnnie Mae had secretly wished Thomas and Sapphire Drummond would have made another go of it.
But after that meltdown Thomas had with Faith, a.k.a. Trinity, and Sapphire doing all she could to help Thomas to get better through mental health support, Sapphire and Thomas went in totally different directions. Then the dreadlock-wearing Sapphire cut off her dreads even before Pastor Landris cut off his, and she began sporting a small, natural Afro. Four years ago she’d met and, a year later, married a wonderful widower with three teenage children. To Sapphire’s surprise, at age forty-one, she became pregnant, and the couple had a beautiful little boy. But because of her age and this being her first child and the possibility the child could be born with Down syndrome, it was touch and go there for a while.
So Pastor Landris could see no way anyone could have done something that he didn’t know about when it came to his finances. In fact, wisdom had led him to hire Stanley because of his stellar reputation as a great accountant and his work ethics, integrity, and honesty.
“Stanley, unless someone gave me money and I didn’t know it had been given to me, I have given you something on everything that I’ve ever received. You know how much money I get from the church. You know about my speaking engagement money. As I’ve said, even when people give me money and call it a love offering, I’ve given you that total and instructed you to include it in my income count. I haven’t ordered any lavish items at the church or for the church. No platinum toilets in my house. I don’t have my own personal jet or a church plane at my disposal. When people bring me in to preach or speak and pay for my flight, I give that to you so you can count it as income. Everything I do, to the best of my ability, is on the up-and-up.”
“All right then, we have nothing to worry about. I’ll call and see if we can’t get this straightened out. Get Ms. . . .” He paused to look for the name of the IRS agent on the letter.
“Winston,” Pastor Landris said quickly. “Raquel Winston.”
“She has a nice name,” Stanley said.
“Well, get back to me and let me know what we need to do to take care of this.”
“Will do,” Stanley said.
Chapter 21
And having food and raiment let us be therewith content.
—1 Timothy 6:8
Angela rang the doorbell of Johnnie Mae’s house. Johnnie Mae answered the door almost out of breath, wearing purple fuzzy slippers.
“Angel,” Johnnie Mae said. “What are you doing here?”
“Your page proofs from your publisher came to the church today. Since you took off today and tomorrow, I thought I’d bring them to you.”
Johnnie Mae frowned. “You could have given them to Pastor Landris. You didn’t have to drive all the way over here to bring them to me.”
“There were a few other things you really needed to handle.” Angela held up her briefcase. “Gabrielle’s paperwork came back for the department head of the Dance Ministry appointment. You need to sign them so she’ll get her paycheck on time. Plus, you need to approve the final budget for the Dance Ministry before Gabrielle takes it over.”
“Come in, come in. I’m sorry. I just have you standing out there. I’m trying to get things ready for this evening, and I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
Angela laughed. “My great-granny used to say stuff like that all the time.” Angela stepped inside. “I didn’t want to just send it by Pastor in case you have some questions. Plus, I didn’t know if you wanted to sign them now and have me take them on back.”
“You’re always looking out for me. Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?” Johnnie Mae said. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to look at those papers now. If you had called first, I could have saved you a trip and just told you to send them by Landris.”
“Well, since I’m here, is there anything I can help you do?” Angela set down her briefcase and purse next to the large vase of flowers on the glass, round table in the peach-colored, marbled-floor foyer.
“Normally, I would say no out of politeness. But honestly, I could use some help. I’m having guests over tonight. You remember I told you about Ransom Perdue.”
“Yeah, Great-granny’s old friend. The man your mother led you to at the nursing home.”
“Can we go in the kitchen while we talk? You can help me finish up in there.”
“Sure.” Angela followed Johnnie Mae to the kitchen. She washed her hands at the sink. “What do you need me to do?”
“Put the petite quiches on a tray and put them in the oven. I thought I’d fix a little something, you know, for them to snack on.”
“Who them?”
Johnnie Mae laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m acting like you know everything that’s going on since we talked the other day.” Johnnie Mae scooped the honeydew melon with the melon baller. She glanced at the digital clock on the oven. “I have thirty minutes before they’re due here,” she said, scooping faster and putting the melon balls in the bowl with the already-scooped watermelon and cantaloupe.
Angela lined the quiche on the tray as quickly as she could. “Who?”
“Ransom Perdue, his daughter Zenobia, her two sons—I don’t know their names—and the rest of her family, which, accor
ding to her, includes six grandchildren and a daughter-in-law.”
“Ransom is coming here. Wow, I didn’t know that. Somebody from Great-granny’s past is going to be right here, someone who knew her when she was a little girl.” Angela put the baking sheet in the oven and set the temperature appropriately. “What else do you need me to do?”
“Yeah, it will be Ransom and his family and Memory Patterson Robertson, Lena and Bishop Jordan, Theresa Jordan Greene, her husband, and their two children.” She stopped a second. “What else can you do? I made some crabmeat appetizers. If you could put the bowl in the middle of that crystal platter and place those Town House crackers around the platter, that would be a big help. The other things are ready except for putting the potato chips in a bowl. I have the coffee ready to brew at six on the dot so it will be fresh. Chicken wings are already on the dining room table. Would you like to stay and meet them? I know you said you’d like to meet Ransom. Today would be a good time.”
“No. I wouldn’t want to meet him on a day like this. I’d just like to sit and talk to him about Great-granny. So, no, I’ll wait until another time to meet him. This sounds like a family affair.” Angela took out the crabmeat appetizer and, after opening the crackers, took a fork and placed some crabmeat on one of the crackers. “Mmmm, this is great,” she said. She went to the sink and washed her hands again, realizing that she wasn’t at home where sampling was acceptable. “Sorry,” she said as she dried her hands on a paper towel.
“That’s quite all right,” Johnnie Mae said. “You’re helping me out. The least I can do is feed you while you work.” Rinsing and drying her hands, she then picked up the now-mixed bowl of fruit that included black seedless grapes, kiwi, strawberries, cantaloupe, honeydew, and watermelon.
“That looks good,” Angela said, singing the word good as Johnnie Mae whisked past her.
When Angela took the platter with the crackers and crabmeat appetizer into the dining room, she jerked her head back slightly. “Wow, I thought you said you were doing a little something. This looks like a full spread to me. Buffalo wings, honey chicken wings, croissant sandwiches with ham, turkey, and is that one with roast beef also?”
“Yep.”
“Yeah. Brent and I get that tray all the time. We love those sandwiches.” She set the crystal platter down. “Triple-layer fudge chocolate cake.” She walked over to it. “Ah! I absolutely love this cake! The only thing is, it’s so rich.”
“Tell me about it. That’s why I only eat a little piece. I have to watch these hips. And I don’t plan on watching them expand outward any more than they have already,” Johnnie Mae said with a laugh. She and Angela headed back to the kitchen to load up again.
“And you still have more things,” Angela said as Johnnie Mae took out a turtle cheesecake along with a plain cheesecake with strawberry sauce on the side.
“I think the quiches are ready,” Johnnie Mae said.
Angela found a large red pot holder. “I was just about to take them out.”
“My goodness, where does the time go? ” Johnnie Mae said as she glanced at the clock. “I don’t care how early you start, time still seems to get away from you.”
“Why don’t you go and change your shoes,” Angela said. “I’ll finish putting the other things on the table. In fact, Brent is picking up the children from daycare,” Angela said, referring to their two cute, energetic little boys. Brent the Second was three years old and Shaun was a little over a year old.
“I’m thankful I had the foresight to take Princess Rose and Isaiah over to Marie’s house,” Johnnie Mae said, referencing her second oldest sister. “Landris is picking them up on his way home. I’m sure had they been here, I would have really been strung out trying to get this all done.”
“It’s because you tried to do too much,” Angela said.
“Maybe so, but I want this to be special.” Johnnie Mae looked around the kitchen. “The chips and the punch . . . I need to put the punch in the punch bowl—”
“Point me to the location of your chip and punch bowls and I’ll take care of them. You need to change out of those shoes and maybe tidy up a bit, especially your hair.”
“My hair is that bad?”
“You’ll see. But nothing a little tightening up won’t take care of,” Angela said.
“Well, tonight isn’t about me, anyway. It’s definitely going to be interesting.” Johnnie Mae left the kitchen and trotted up the stairs to her bedroom.
Chapter 22
Who gave himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time.
—1 Timothy 2:6
The doorbell rang. Johnnie Mae glanced at her watch. Five minutes before six. Someone is early. Usually, she would have been ready. Maybe she had tried doing too much.
“I’ll get it!” Angela yelled up the stairs to Johnnie Mae.
“Thank you!” Johnnie Mae yelled back. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Angela opened the door. “Hello,” she said, holding the door open as the guests began to stream in.
“Angel?” Lena said. She leaned in to hug her. “It’s been years. How are you?”
“I know. The last time we saw each other was eight years ago.” She patted Lena’s back as she pulled away. “I’m great.”
“Well, you look good,” Lena said.
“I’ve put on a little weight,” Angela said.
Lena shooed her. “Please. I should be so blessed to be your size.”
Bishop Jordan walked in and gave her a courtesy hug. He didn’t know Angela.
“Hi, Angel,” Theresa said, her daughter and son walking close to her legs as she moved. “Go on in, Mauricia and M-double-G.” M-double-G was the nickname for Maurice Greene the Second.
“Oh, my goodness! Look how they’ve grown.” Angela stooped down and hugged both children. “Mauricia, how old are you now?”
“I just turned eight,” Mauricia said, looking in Angela’s eyes without a hint of shyness. “My birthday was September eleventh. I lost a tooth the night before my birthday.”
Angela stroked Mauricia’s hair that was braided and strung with lots of white beads. “You did? Let me see.” She looked as Mauricia pointed to the empty space at the top.
“Well, hello there, little man,” Angela said to M-double-G. “And how old are you now?”
M-double-G held up his hand with all five fingers spread wide. “Five,” he said, then he stepped in and ran over to his grandfather.
Maurice nodded to Angela as he stepped past her. “How are you?” he said.
She smiled. “Great.”
Memory stepped up. She smiled as she nodded. “Angela, or Angel, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Angela said. “Either one. Most folks call me Angel.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you after all I’ve heard about you. I’m Memory.”
“Please, all of you come on in and make yourself at home,” Angela said.
“Hi, everybody,” Johnnie Mae said as she waltzed down the stairs. She hugged each one when she reached them. “It’s so good to see you! Man, it’s been a long time.”
“Yeah,” Memory said, embracing Johnnie Mae with a warm hug. “I was telling Lena and Theresa on our way over here that we’re going to have to stop meeting like this.”
“So far, it’s turned out well in the end.” Johnnie Mae patted Memory’s back.
“Yes, it has. Let’s hope the trend continues to hold.”
Angela was about to head for the door with her briefcase and purse in hand. “Johnnie Mae, unless you need me, I’m out of here.” She held out a large folder with the contract and budget and an envelope with Johnnie Mae’s next novel’s page proofs.
“Would it be too much trouble to ask you to take those and put them in my bedroom on my coffee table?” Johnnie Mae asked Angela.
“No, I’ll be happy to do that. I’ll let myself out when I’m finished.”
Johnnie Mae gave Angela a hug. “Thank you for everything. I really appreciate yo
u. You are such an . . . angel.” Johnnie Mae smiled at her own play with Angela’s name.
“God always knows what we need, even before we know we need it. And just think: I thought I was coming over here to bring you something, when God really had me coming to help you out,” she whispered.
Angela took the information, as requested, up to Johnnie Mae’s bedroom. Johnnie Mae showed everyone to the living room, which adjoined the dining room (when the French doors were completely opened), and its table and buffet server full of food.
Angela went downstairs and opened the front door just as a young man was about to press the doorbell.
“Great timing,” the man said. “I’m Knowledge Walker. You must be Johnnie Mae.” He held out his hand to shake hers.
Angela switched her briefcase from her right hand to her left to shake his hand. “Hi. Actually, no. I’m Angela Underwood. I’m a friend of Johnnie Mae’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Knowledge said.
“No problem. I was just leaving.”
“But this is the Landrises’ house, isn’t it?” an older woman said, carrying a baby in a carrier.
“Oh, yes. Johnnie Mae is inside. She’s expecting you. Why don’t I show you in,” Angela said, holding the door and opening it wider.
“Gramps is coming. Clarence is bringing him,” Knowledge said to Angela.
“Yeah, Great-gramps doesn’t move so fast,” a little boy said.
“Deon, that’s not nice,” one of twin girls said.
“I’m Zenobia Walker. This is my son, Knowledge, and his three children. Dante,” she said, raising the carrier up. “That’s Deon—”
“I’m five!” Deon said, holding up his fingers to prove it. Angela laughed. “Well, hello, Deon.” She shook his hand. “There’s another little boy in there, and he’s also five.”
The Truth Is the Light Page 11