by Eve Fisher
The Best Is
Yet to Be
Mystery
and the Minister’s Wife
Through the Fire
A State of Grace
Beauty Shop Tales
A Test of Faith
The Best Is Yet to Be
Angels Undercover
Into the Wilderness
Where There’s a Will
Dog Days
The Missing Ingredient
Open Arms
A Token of Truth
Who’s That Girl?
For the Least of These
A Matter of Trust
Funny Money
To Have and to Hold
How the Heart Runs
A Thousand Generations
Home to Briar Mountain
Flight of the Sparrows
A Firm Foundation
Off the Record
A Distant Memory
Tea and Sympathy
The Master’s Hand
Strangers in Their Midst
Mystery and the Minister’s Wife is a trademark of Guideposts.
Copyright © 2007 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to the Rights & Permissions Department, Guideposts, 110 William Street, New York, New York 10038.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
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Cover illustration by Rose Lowry, www.illustrations.com
Interior design by Cris Kossow
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Printed in the United States of America
To all my friends in Madison, South Dakota,
and above all to Allan, with love and thanks.
Chapter One
Kate Hanlon entered the kitchen, shut the door behind her, and smiled a bit breathlessly at Joe Tucker, who was washing his hands at the sink. It was warm outside, but it was even warmer inside the old Bixby house this June morning.
She set a sack of rolls on the tile counter and smiled. “It must be lasagna today.”
“It’s about ready to come out of the oven,” said Renee Lambert, looking up from the large pot of bubbling green beans she was stirring. “I hope those rolls are fresh, Kate.”
Kate was too used to Renee to even sigh. “Fresh from the diner,” she said brightly. She took off her light sweater and glanced around for Kisses, Renee’s Chihuahua, who went everywhere with her.
Sure enough, there in a corner was Renee’s huge tote, and the little dog’s nose was sticking out of it. This was actually an improvement. When Renee had first started volunteering with the Faith Freezer Program, she had actually tried to dish up meals with her tote—and Kisses—slung over one shoulder. Thankfully, Loretta Sweet, the owner of the Country Diner, had put an end to that, but only after threatening to call the health inspector. Loretta had also posted health requirements that included head coverings for cooks, and now Renee’s synthetic blond curls were covered by a white turban that had vivid butterflies sewn all over it. Joe Tucker had only a few white tufts of hair around his bald crown, but he wore a little white paper cap, which transformed him into a sort of backwoods Popeye, minus the pipe.
Kate went over to the supply cupboard and pulled out a box of hairnets. “No one else is cooking today?” she asked. She took a plain hairnet out of the box and put it on, carefully tucking in every strand of her strawberry-blonde hair.
“Eli Weston is supposed to be here,” Joe said, shaking his head, “but he called to say he’s running a bit late. A lady came over from Cookeville to look at end tables and hasn’t left yet. And Dot Bagley is bringing dessert when she comes to make deliveries.” He peered into the oven. “I think maybe another five minutes.”
“It’s ready now,” Renee insisted, though she made no move to take it out of the oven. “And there’s fruit salad in the refrigerator, Kate, so we’ll need something to dish that up in.”
“All right,” Kate said, pulling the fruit salad out of the fridge, along with pats of butter for the rolls. She set them down on the table and went to the cupboard for small plastic cups with lids. There was only one stack left, so they’d need to pick up more.
As she walked toward the large bulletin board on the wall to write that down, Renee called out, “You might want to write out the delivery lists while you’re over there!”
“Okay,” Kate replied calmly.
The Faith Freezer Program was run from that bulletin board. The menus were posted there along with inventory lists, messages, and a calendar sign-up sheet for volunteers, both for cooking and delivery. After Mavis Bixby had deeded her house to Faith Briar Church, Kate had come up with the idea of using the kitchen to prepare and deliver meals to those in need. Now they delivered about ten meals a day to shut-ins and invalids, as well as to sick parishioners and the elderly recovering from surgery. The Faith Freezer Program had become a necessary part of the Copper Mill community. Kate was awed by how many people were willing to volunteer their time and energy.
She looked at the shopping list and saw that someone had already written down napkins and dish-washing liquid. That day’s delivery volunteers were Dot Bagley, Amanda Bly, Junius Lawson, and his son, Matt. As Kate added plastic cups to the shopping list, she thought about how many of the volunteers were elderly themselves. Joe, Amanda, Junius, Dot, Martha Sinclair, Morty Robertson, and Renee were all in their sixties or seventies (even if Renee did insist she was only thirty-nine), and so were most of the others on the volunteer list.
This really wasn’t surprising, since even though many Copper Mill residents volunteered freely of their time and resources, there was only so much time at their disposal. Most had jobs, like Kate’s best friend Livvy Jenner, the town librarian, or they had businesses of their own, like Emma Blount, who owned the ice-cream shop. They all did what they could, but no one had the time to help out daily. Kate was lucky if she could help out twice a month, and the freezer program was originally her idea.
Although she was technically unemployed, she was a pastor’s wife with a working stained-glass studio, not to mention the fact that since she and Paul had come to Copper Mill, she had been involved in solving the mysteries that seemed to crop up everywhere she went. There were days when she wondered how in the world she had ever managed to get everything done when she was working full-time in San Antonio. So much for the slower pace of small-town living. Life in Texas had been far less busy, it seemed, than it was in Tennessee.
“Sorry I’m late,” Eli Weston called out as he came in. Behind him, a sudden gust of wind seemed to push a plump, gray-haired lady inside.
“I brought cupcakes,” Dot Bagley gasped as Eli closed the door firmly behind her and took the large box from her hands. “Chocolate.”
Dot was one of the regulars at Betty’s Beauty Parlor and a branch on the Copper Mill grapevine, but she was also a dedicated volunteer.
“Sounds heavenly,” Kate said.
Dot nodded breathlessly and began fanning herself with her hands. “I’ll be right over,” she called out.
“Take your time,” Eli called back.
Eli was one of the few youn
ger volunteers for whom time wasn’t a problem; running his antique store didn’t seem to prevent him from volunteering for all sorts of causes. For a while Eli had been locked in a hard shell of anger and grief over the death of his fiancée and had been responsible for accidentally setting fire to Faith Briar Church, where Kate’s husband, Paul, was pastor. But he had been brought through that, by God’s grace, to confession and reconciliation with the church and the community, and even more, with God. Faith Briar had been rebuilt, and Eli had become a full participant in church and community life. Kate knew it was a sense of immeasurable thankfulness that spurred him to devote as much of his time and energy to helping others as he could.
Kate went back over the delivery lists. There were twenty-five deliveries that day because of a flu outbreak that had hit Copper Mill’s elderly population especially hard.
Joe was checking the oven again, and Dot was chattering away about the latest news from the beauty shop, when suddenly Kate heard Kisses yapping, Joe yelping, metal crashing, Dot squealing, and a thud, followed by Renee screaming, “Look out!”
Kate whirled around and saw Joe sprawled on the floor, a pan of lasagna half emptied on him and the floor beside him, and Kisses licking at the mess.
“That blasted dog tripped me!” Joe glared at the pint-sized dog.
“Are you all right?” Eli asked.
“I think so.”
“He’s fine,” Renee sniffed. “It’s Kisses I’m worried about.”
“How about the lasagna?” Kate asked.
Kisses yapped as Joe scrabbled around, trying to gain some footing on the slippery floor.
Renee snatched up her dog in her arms. “Don’t you dare kick Kisses!”
“I wasn’t kicking him, Renee,” Joe snapped. “I’m just trying to get up!”
Renee kissed her dog’s little head. “Just a bull in a china shop. Oh, poor little Kisses. Is Mama’s Little Umpkins all right? Give Mama a kiss. You’ve scared him to death!”
The last comment, of course, was directed at Joe, who by now had a firm grip on his walking stick and was bringing himself upright.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Joe?” Kate asked.
“Nothing a couple of aspirin and a pint of bleach won’t cure,” Joe said, ruefully looking down at his stained pants.
“Did it burn you?” Dot asked.
“Nah. I’m fine.”
“What about the meals?” Renee asked. “What are we going to do? People are waiting on these.”
“We’ve got two pans left,” Eli said mildly. “We could just cut the pieces a little smaller and eke it out with the rolls.”
“That will work fine,” Kate said firmly. “Here, I’ll cut the lasagna, and Joe, you go on home.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Joe said. “I’m fine. I can still pack meals.”
“I’ll start cleaning this up,” Dot said and went over to the closet where the cleaning supplies were kept.
“Thank you, Dot,” Kate said. “Thank heavens we’ve still got plenty of time to get these meals done.” She started to cut up the lasagna, then looked at Renee, who was still holding her Chihuahua and cooing softly in his ear. “And can you put Kisses back in your bag, Renee, and start putting the fruit salad into cups?”
Renee sniffed but did as she was asked. Kate had finished cutting the lasagna when Emma Blount came in wearing a bright yellow shirt and tan pants. Yellow was Emma’s favorite color, and she wore as much of it as possible, despite the fact that it clashed badly with her sallow skin and brown hair.
“Hi, Emma,” Kate called. “I didn’t see you on today’s list.”
“No,” Emma replied, “but I thought I’d deliver Mama’s dinner myself today.”
“That’s nice,” Dot said.
Emma, a heavy woman in her late fifties, was never neglectful of her eighty-two-year-old mother, Ada. She always made Ada’s breakfast and supper, but lunch was usually out of the question. People wanted ice-cream sundaes, banana splits, malts, and shakes winter and summer, and the best place in town was Emma’s Ice Cream shop.
“How are you doing, Emma?” Renee asked.
“Oh, I’m about worn out. Just rushed off my feet, and I still haven’t gotten my strength back from my operation.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kate said as she put a square of lasagna in a container and passed it on to Renee and Joe to add the rest of the dinner. Kate still didn’t know exactly what kind of surgery Emma had had—she suspected female troubles, since Emma refused to talk about the details—but she did know that it had been in January, and now it was June. “Maybe you should go back to your doctor.”
“I have.” Emma dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “And all he says is that everything’s fine, and I should just lose some weight.” Her double chin quivered indignantly.
“They say that to everyone.” Dot sighed.
“I have just the opposite problem,” Renee said. “My doctor’s always on me to gain weight, but what can I do? I eat like a bird. Always have.”
“Here you go, Emma,” Eli said, handing her the boxed dinner.
“Nobody knows the suffering I go through,” Emma continued. “Thank you, Eli. I swear I’d go to a specialist, but that would mean going to Knoxville, and then who’d look after Mama? Oh my, look at the time. I’ve got to run. See y’all later!”
Renee watched Emma leave, then said, “That poor woman is just a martyr to her mother.”
Kate almost choked as she thought about Renee’s ninety-two-year-old mother, the redoubtable Caroline Beauregard Johnston. She’d moved in with Renee while she was healing from a broken hip and was still there, just as much a queen bee as ever. Since there wasn’t much of the martyr in Renee, the two had had some memorable exchanges over Kisses (Caroline hated dogs), food (Caroline wouldn’t touch “any of that freezer slop”), friends (Caroline didn’t approve of Renee’s), churches (Caroline went to St. Lucy’s Episcopal Church), and almost everything else. The only things they agreed on were bridge and that the world was, in general, going to the dogs and had been ever since the Civil War. Or, as Caroline called it, the War of Northern Aggression.
“Well, let’s get crackin’, folks,” Joe said. “Only twenty-four to go.”
ELI WAS SNAPPING the last lid onto a plastic container when Amanda Bly, Junius Lawson, and his son, Matt, arrived.
“After you, madam,” Junius said, holding the door for Amanda.
“Hello, all. My, but it smells good in here,” Amanda said, her blue eyes twinkling in her crepe-paper face. She was a tiny woman, always beautifully groomed, her white hair done in a neat French knot, her white gloves immaculate. “What is it?”
“Lasagna,” Kate said.
“As you can tell by my pants,” Joe added.
Amanda raised her eyebrows and turned to Eli. “Tell me, did I see a red velvet settee in your shop window?”
“Yes, ma’am. Interested?”
“Just nostalgic. My mother used to have one just like it.” Amanda turned her attention toward Renee. “And how are you doing?”
“Well, I’ll be doing a lot better after I get my hair done,” Renee said, whisking off her turban and running her extremely long manicured nails—painted a bright peony on this occasion—through her metallic-blond curls. “I wouldn’t have set foot outside the house looking the way I do if it wasn’t my day to volunteer.”
“Now you know you always look like a breath of spring,” Junius said gallantly.
Renee actually giggled. “Why, Mr. Lawson, I do declare,” she flirted. “You could turn a girl’s head saying things like that.”
“Just telling the truth,” Junius said and, leaning over, whispered something to Renee that made her giggle again.
“Could I have my delivery list?” Matt Lawson asked Kate brusquely.
She looked over at Junius, who was chatting easily with Renee and Amanda, and thought about how different father and son were. Junius was a tall, thin, distinguished man with a handsome, hawkish fac
e set under a thick shock of white hair; his son was awkward and stuffy, with an average build and average looks. While Junius sparkled with personality, Matt never seemed to want to talk.
“Of course,” Kate said.
Matt simply waited without saying anything. Kate had noticed before that Matt simply didn’t seem to know how to make small talk or exchange the friendly greetings and inquiries that oiled the wheels of small-town life. She handed Matt his list and watched him quickly go over it. He was supposed to be excellent with figures, which was good, since he was an investment adviser at the bank. But his lack of people skills must have been a handicap. Of course, as long as people were making money, they’d overlook it.
Matt nodded, went over to the table, and started piling meals into a flat box.
Kate followed him. “Here are your lists, Dot, Amanda, Junius.”
“Thank you, Kate,” Junius said. He looked at his list and said, “Joshua Parsons! I know he’ll try to get me to play checkers.”
“Well, if you’d like, I’ll take it to him,” Joe said. “I’m always up for a good game of checkers.”
“No, no,” Junius said. ” I need the experience.”
Amanda, who had been looking at her list, smiled and said, “Oh good, I get to see Nell. She is such a delight. She always asks me to play the piano for her, and I do believe she enjoys it almost as much as I do.”
“Of course she does,” Kate said. “You’re a wonderful pianist.”
“I’d love to play ragtime,” Dot said, hooking her purse strap over her shoulder. “The way your fingers just fly across those keys!”
“Yes, well, they don’t fly as much as they used to, but I keep on going!” Amanda smiled bravely, showing her hands, her fingers twisted by arthritis.
By now Eli had packed up her dinners in a box.
“Would you like some help?” Joe asked.
Amanda bent down as if she hadn’t heard him and started to lift the box, but it was obviously too much for her.