Reverend Potter -
“Good grief, Katherine, I hope he’s not
planning to bite me again.”
Edward Potter, pastor of St. Stephen’s
Episcopal Church, glared at the cat.
His voice had risen to a high pitch.
“Whatever do you feed him? He’s ever
so much bigger than Bitsy.”
The temptation to say my pet fed on pastors
was strong. I refrained
and fought to control a grin that
threatened to blossom. Teasing Edward
usually results in a lecture delivered in
an indignant voice.
With an air of disdain, Robiesperre
stretched. His back rippled in a
way I envy. Then he slithered around
Edward.
When Edward reached the top of the steps,
he turned and peered
the cat. “He’s becoming more brazen.”
“Only toward selected guests. He ignores
most people.” I turned my
head and Edward brushed my cheek with his
lips.
Edward is a dapper little man with an ear
for gossip and a penchant
for turning even the slightest event into
a fiesta or a disaster. He’s astute
about church politics. The coffers at St.
Stephen’s are filled through his
ability to cosset and cajole the elderly
population of the church, mainly
wealthy women. I partially fit the
category, being over sixty-five, and while
not rich, I’m at least comfortable.
When he entered the sunlit kitchen, the
expression on his face
announced a problem. He walked into the
living room. Unlike most of my
guests, he considered chats at the
kitchen table for commoners. In the
living room, he perched on the edge of a
Queen Anne chair, purchased
years ago before antiques became the rage.Maria - Next door neighbor. Maria is featured in many of the books.
Robespierre stretched and ambled across
the lawn to the yard next
door where Maria Prescott was enjoying
the sun and the baby she and Paul
had adopted in Spain
stared at the infant. We all wondered how
he would act when Carlos began
to crawl.
Sarah lives across the street and plays a role in many of the stories.
The next afternoon, Beth dropped by while
I sat on the porch with my
neighbor, Sarah. Sarah’s children, three
of her own and two foster
children, played in the yard. The two
older ones, Larry and Jamal,
supervised the younger ones by shouting
commands.
“Beth, where’s Robby?”
“Pete took him to Little League
practice.” She sank on the top step.
“I think he’s too young for that kind of
competition. Pete laughs at me.”
“Do you mean Pete Duggan?” Sarah leaned
forward. “I didn’t think
he was interested in anyone under
twenty-five and who wasn’t female.”
Beth closed her eyes, “He’s adopted my
son. He tolerates me.”
“You can change that,” Sarah said. “Saw
the new organist this
morning. What a hunk. Just invite him
over when Pete’s around. He sure
thrives on competition.”
Beth smiled. “That’s an idea.”
I looked away. Though I think Pete and
Beth are a great match, I
wouldn’t interfere. Matchmaking can be
hazardous to your well being. If
the couples like each other -- great. If
they don’t, you lose two friends.
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