A Sounding Brass

by Shelley Bates

  “Incorporating what?”

  “The Elect. As a legal entity.”

  She sat back and stared at him. “That’s impossible. We can’t be incorporated. We’re a spiritual body, not an earthly one. Not to mention we have no official name.”

  “We do now. We’re officially known as the Elect of God of Inish County, and you know what else?”

  “I can’t imagine.” She couldn’t. The fact that they were a spiritual church with no earthly ties and no guidance but the will of God as spoken through his Shepherds had been a foundation of doctrine since . . . well, forever. Their founder was Jesus Himself, in the tradition of the prophets, and this set them apart from worldly churches who were of the earth, who had buildings and boards that kept them accountable to themselves. The Elect’s prophets were accountable only to God. If the Elect had incorporated, that made them the same as anyone else. Why, she might as well go worship at the church Toby went to.

  “The reason they’ve incorporated is so they can buy the land for the worship center. So now, not only are we a registered legal body, we’re going to hold land, too.”

  “We own the hall,” she pointed out.

  “No, we don’t. It’s leased on a twenty-year agreement with John Willetts. He owns stuff all over town. The Elect have never owned land—except for people owning their own houses, of course. It’s just wrong. The Elders could have gone in as a partnership or something.”

  “No, they couldn’t,” said Claire the former bank employee. “With a corporation you get a bunch of tax breaks in this county. They’re trying to encourage new construction.”

  “Well, they’re going to get it. Owen told me that he and Mark have put mortgages on their houses, but the bank won’t give them a loan until they run through their own money. With the corporation it’s easier to track it.” The more he talked, the more agitated he became.

  “Times are changing, Derrick.” She tried to sound calm and soothing. “If Luke and the elders think this is the right thing to do, then obviously God has led them to believe that.”

  “Luke has led them to think that way. Things have been changing entirely too fast since he first stood up in Mission.”

  “No, it started before that. With Dinah and Tamara. Maybe even with Julia.”

  She’d obviously hit a nerve that was still raw. Derrick stood abruptly. “I’ve got to get back to work. I just know they’re going to ask me to prepare those papers, after I worked a bunch of overtime doing the research last night.”

  Have a good day seemed a little lame. “Thanks for sharing your lunch with me,” she said finally. At least it had taken her mind off her own problems for twenty minutes.

  He stood looking at her for a moment. “You don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, either, do you?”

  “I think that change is sometimes painful,” she said carefully. “But I support what the Elders are doing the same way I support the Shepherds.”

  His mouth thinned. “I just hope it’s not going to cause more pain than we can stand,” he said, and turned and left her.

  She didn’t want to think about the fact that he was the third man to do so that day.

  * * *

  A FEW MINUTES before eight the next morning, Luke bounded into Claire’s office as she was putting her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk. She hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours the night before, and her eyes felt gritty and her muscles too loose. Coffee, and lots of it, was the answer, not Luke, who positively buzzed with animation and energy. Instead of charging her up, he just made her feel even more tired.

  “Claire! I’ve been waiting for you.”

  She glanced at the clock over the door. “I’m not late, am I?”

  “Who cares? Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Luke, your show starts in three minutes.”

  “And you’re holding me up. Come on.”

  She didn’t protest or respond. Or care very much for his tone. She followed him out the door and around to the parking lot, where he made a “ta-da!” gesture with both arms.

  “What do you think?”

  There was nothing there but a bunch of cars, a van, and a pickup truck. The same vehicles that were parked there every day. “About what?”

  “About the van! I went and got it yesterday, remember?”

  She’d been so consumed with Ray’s departure, Derrick’s news, and her own stupidity that the fact Luke had gone to get the new mobile station had completely fallen off her radar.

  He grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the new white van, one of the biggest she’d ever seen. “It’s got a V-8 engine in it and a state-of-the-art GPS system.”

  Claire looked over the passenger compartment and tried to catch his enthusiasm. She’d have had more success if he’d had a cold.

  “And look at this.” He whipped back the sliding door so that it jounced on its track. “Here’s where our equipment will be.”

  The rear compartment of the van was pristine and carpeted, and smelled of brand-new upholstery, but that was about all you could say for it. “Luke, I thought it had been at the outfitter all this time. Where’s the equipment?” Leaning back, she checked the door, which had shivered into stillness. “And where’s our logo?”

  “We haven’t designed a new one yet, so it isn’t there.”

  “But the equipment? Aren’t they going to install it?”

  “It didn’t all arrive in time, so I told them to call me when they had everything. No point driving up there more than once. Meantime, I brought it back with me to show you. Isn’t it great?”

  It’s a van, not life support, she could have said a little waspishly. But instead, she said, “Yes. Totally great. How long until they get everything?”

  Luke shrugged and slid the door closed. “I don’t know. A few days. A week.”

  “Where’s your car? Did someone drive it home for you?”

  “No, I left it at the outfitters. They said they’d just lock it in their yard until I came back. I didn’t want to mess around with ferrying two vehicles all over the state.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, Claire, don’t get so bogged down in the details. We’re halfway to having a mobile station. Halfway to being able to reach a bigger audience than ever before. Doesn’t that make you want to sing God’s praises?”

  “Sure.” She summoned up a smile and put it on. “But Toby won’t be singing your praises unless you get in there and start your show. Meantime, I’m going to the post office.”

  She had just retrieved her purse when she heard Luke go on the air: “Good morning, Washington! This is Luke Fisher, rocking for the Lord at 98.5 KGHM!” She walked over to the coffee bar and got herself a venti latte with a shot of chocolate. By the time she’d poured a third of it down her throat and walked to the post office, the world was looking like a happier place. When she finished it, maybe she’d even be able to get excited about the van.

  The pile of envelopes today was a little lower than it had been recently, but she still had to use the plastic bin to carry it all to the station. It took most of the morning to get it all entered in the database, generate the deposit slip, and get the printer started on the task of spitting out thank-you letters.

  Another invoice had come in for the general contractor, this time for an astonishing number of yards of concrete and what seemed like enough pipe to plumb a small city. Well, she’d seen towns in Washington that were probably the same size as the worship center complex was going to be, so she supposed that was reasonable. Still, fifty thousand dollars was a lot for just pipe and concrete.

  It also wasn’t due for—how many days? She glanced again at the invoice. “On receipt”? That was odd. Usually companies ran on a thirty or forty-five day cycle. Maybe things were different in the construction business. Or maybe it was an oversight. A negotiable oversight.

  She picked up the phone and called the Spokane exchange printed on the letterhead. It rang at least six ti
mes before a sleepy female voice said, “Hello?”

  “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number. The invoice I have says this is the number for Brandon Brothers, General Contractors.”

  “Yup, this is them.”

  Clearly someone was having as bad a day as she was herself. “Oh. Well, good. I just wanted to check that your receivables really are due on receipt of the invoice.”

  “Huh? Oh yeah. Sure, they are.”

  “Oh.” Claire felt a little silly. “Most companies run on a thirty-day cycle, that’s all. Yours just seems a little short. I’m wondering if, since this is such a big job and it will be ongoing for a number of months, we could negotiate a better—”

  “If it says it’s due on receipt, then it’s on receipt.”

  Yikes. Maybe someone should be sent on a customer-relations course. “Right. Well, thanks very much.”

  The woman hung up without even a good-bye. Claire made a face at the phone and tossed the invoice in the to-do pile. Just for that, the woman could wait the standard net thirty.

  She slipped the deposit into its bag and walked down to the bank. Margot spotted her as she was pushing open the glass door, and waved her into her office.

  “It seems as though every day is deposit day at KGHM,” she said with a bright smile. Margot could teach the slob at Brandon Brothers a thing or two about customer relations, even though Claire had a feeling that 20 percent of that smile was chagrin at having to cater to someone she’d fired.

  “God is good,” was all she said, however, and smiled a completely sincere smile back.

  While Margot made the entries, she said, “I guess you folks are happy about going ahead with the worship center, aren’t you? It’s going to be quite the project.”

  As well as managing the tellers, Margot was the bank’s loan officer. Of course she would know the Elect’s business. “Have you seen the drawings? It’s going to be beautiful. Not to mention good for construction jobs—and service jobs when it’s done.”

  “Yes, I have seen the drawings.” Margot’s polished nails clicked busily on the computer’s keys. “The gentlemen representing the corporation—Mr. McNeill, Mr. Blanchard, and Mr. Fisher—were required to give us a cost breakdown, from initial permits to final signoff, as part of the loan process. It’s . . . very ambitious, I must say.”

  “But it’s doable. With the donations pouring in, plus the mortgages on their homes, the down payment won’t be a problem.”

  “They’re required to come up with 50 percent, actually, but you’re right, for the cost of the land it shouldn’t be a problem. Which brings me to something else.”

  She finished up the entries and a receipt began chattering in the old-fashioned printer.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have to go out to the site this afternoon to do the loan inspection. Would you be free to come with me?”

  “Me?” The receipt finished printing and Margot handed it to her. “But I don’t really have anything to do with that part of it. The Elders have been managing it.”

  “Yes, but it’s the middle of a working day and I don’t have time to wait until one of them is free. This afternoon is good for me. How is your schedule?”

  She didn’t really have anything pressing except to pay a couple of utility bills, and that could wait until tomorrow. And frankly, the thought of getting away from the station—okay, and Luke—for a little while was appealing.

  “The only problem is, I don’t know where the site is,” she said to Margot. “A friend and I went to where I thought it was, but there was nothing there.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Margot said briskly, ushering her out. “I have all the lot numbers, of course.”

  “Of course.” And knowing Margot, she had them in triplicate and notarized. The lady left nothing to chance. “I’ll run home and get changed, and meet you back here in, say, an hour?”

  “Perfect. See you then.”

  When Claire got back to her office, it was to see Luke sitting in her chair, hunting through her stacks of thank-you letters.

  “Can’t wait to sign those, hey?” She kept her tone light and teasing to make up for her grumpiness earlier.

  But, as though they were on an emotional seesaw, where he went down when she went up, his ebullient mood seemed to have evaporated. “No. I’m looking for the check.”

  “What check?” Had he asked her to cut one and she’d forgotten? Oh, dear. Maybe she’d better take a refresher on customer relations herself. “I’m sorry, Luke, did you ask me to cut a check for someone?”

  “No, no. Not for me. For the contractor.”

  “Who, Brandon Brothers? Their invoice is in there.” She indicated the tray containing the to-do pile. Or, in the case of the contractor’s invoice, her to-do-later pile. “But it just came this morning. I wasn’t going to pay it until—”

  He turned. “What do you mean?”

  She slid her purse into her drawer and nudged him out of her chair. “What do I mean about what?”

  Big mistake. He towered over her, a hand on each arm of her chair, and leaned in as though he were going to kiss her. Which he wasn’t going to do—since his mouth was narrowed and his eyes were flat and angry. “What do you mean, you aren’t going to pay it?”

  She frowned, trying not to be intimated and not quite succeeding. “Luke, give me some space, please.”

  He blinked and seemed to realize how threatening he was being over nothing. His push with both hands off the chair sent her rolling backward a couple of inches. Claire realized with a sense of shock that her breathing was fast and her heart was beating practically out of her chest. She’d felt this way when Ray had kissed her—sort of. But that had been pleasure. This was something else. Fear?

  No. Couldn’t be. Luke was just being conscientious, that was all.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to pay it. Just that I didn’t need to do it this minute. I have to go out to the—”

  “I want you to pay it today.”

  “Luke, this isn’t your job. I won’t let us get in arrears, I promise.”

  “What’s the big deal? The invoice says to pay on receipt, doesn’t it? You received it today, you pay it today.”

  “Well, technically we have a certain number of days before we have to—”

  “I don’t care about technically. I care about our Christian example to our possibly unbelieving contractor. What’s he going to think if our check comes straggling in weeks late and he has to front his own money to the subcontractors? Is that going to make him care about our job? Is that going to make him an ally? Or for that matter, is that going to make him think positively about Christians? Do we want to be responsible for turning someone away from God because of sloppy business practices?”

  Claire gaped at him, wondering which question he really meant her to answer. Not that he’d let her get a complete sentence out even if she tried. And where did he get off, taking that tone with her, as if she were a misbehaving child?

  He slapped the wall in emphasis and swung back to the studio, where an alarming silence proclaimed to five counties that someone had not cued up a CD in the second deck. “Cut that check, Claire,” he called while he smacked a CD into the tray. “Now.”

  In a pig’s eye I will. How dare you? Claire’s mouth was mutinous as she glared from him to the offending invoice. She put it in the queue with the other check requests and, just in case anybody got any bright ideas about printing a check while she was out with Margot, she changed her computer password so that it wouldn’t open up once it hibernated. Then she snatched up her purse and jacket and marched out of the station.

  Nobody told Claire Montoya, a seasoned banking professional, how to do her job.

  Chapter 13

  CLAIRE LOST HER TEMPER maybe once a year, and always found it again fairly quickly. She just wasn’t a temperamental person, which was good if you worked in the field of accounting. There, being detail-oriented, careful, and willing to ask questions wh
en they needed to be asked were good qualities, not something to be laughed at or called into question. Luke may have hired her, but he wasn’t the one who signed her paycheck every other week. He wasn’t the one who gave her job assignments, though she had let him think so because, up until this morning, she had thought they were part of a team.

  She had thought a lot of things that probably weren’t true. That Luke was attracted to her, for one.

  Ha. Even if he was, she most emphatically did not return the feeling. The kind of man she could care about didn’t loom and threaten and yell when he didn’t get what he wanted. Her ideal man made her feel safe. A little delirious with desire sometimes. Tongue-tied, maybe. Excitingly unsettled. But safe.

  The way Ray had made her feel.

  Right, and you managed that so well that he left town.

  Margot stopped the car at the same cattle gate that Claire had opened for Ray and looked over at Claire in the passenger seat. “Would you mind hopping out and getting that gate for us?”

  Claire double-checked the landscape. Crazy Jack Road. Same long, potholed approach. Same pines and golden grass waving in the breeze. The only thing that had changed between now and the day she and Ray had been here was the deep blue in the sky that proclaimed October was nearly here.

  She got out and did the gate routine, and when she got back in the car, she said, “I don’t think this is the place, Margot. I was here once before and there’s nothing down there.”

  “There isn’t supposed to be anything. We haven’t approved the loan yet.”

  “But then, why—” Claire stopped herself. Some wires had gotten crossed somewhere. Maybe work had started in advance of the loan, in the form of getting materials and equipment ready to go. A little imprudent, maybe, but she was no expert on the construction business. She should be proactive and do some research on it. Maybe call up Brandon Brothers and ask to speak to someone other than that girl who—