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Chevon
Chevon watched the Puddy mother pray and then watched her pick up her head and look at her husband. Something was wrong. Chevon had no idea what it was and wasn’t sure she cared, but there was something the Puddy mom wasn’t saying. Chevon looked to Mary Sue for a clue, but her face betrayed nothing.
“Okay,” the pastor said. “Tonya, I believe you’re next.”
Emma’s mom took a deep breath. “The first house we went to has a broken chimney.” She looked around the circle. “I was wondering if Barbara’s son knew anything about chimneys, but I don’t see her here.”
“Yes,” one of the older women said. The one with good hair. Chevon knew she should know her name, but it wasn’t coming to her. “Her gallbladder was bothering her, so she went home.”
A few people winced, and a bunch nodded as if this was a common occurrence.
“And Rachel slipped on the ice and hurt herself, so she went home too.”
Several people gasped, and Esther acted particularly panicked. “Is she all right?”
The woman with good hair waved her off. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, back to Kyle. I’m sure he knows how to fix a chimney, but I’m not sure we’ll be able to get him to. He’s booked up way in advance, and he’s often reluctant to work for free. How broken is this chimney? Are these people without heat?”
Tonya shook her head. “No, they’re making do with electric for now.”
Good-hair-woman gasped. “That’s going to cost a fortune!”
A man across the circle from Chevon said, “I’d be happy to hire someone to fix their chimney. Just give me their address.”
Pastor’s mouth dropped open. “Wow, Joe. Thank you. That is so generous.”
Joe waved him off, but his expression was smug. “Don’t mention it.”
“Great!” Tonya looked thrilled. As she shared the encounter she’d had at their second house, Chevon studied the man across from her.
She remembered him from Sunday, how he had walked in alone with his nose in the air. How the pastor had practically tripped over himself to shake the man’s hand. She didn’t like the way he was sitting, leaned back in his metal folding chair as if that were comfortable, with his arms folded across his chest and his left ankle resting on his right knee. His foot dangled effortlessly. He looked like the most comfortable man in the world, but Chevon wondered how much effort he was putting into that effortlessly dangling foot.
“I’d be happy to give Max a job,” Joe said.
Chevon looked at Tonya. She had missed who Max was.
“There’s room for him at my company in Bucksport.”
“But you don’t have any idea what he’s good at,” Vicky said, her face pinched, her eyes narrowed, “or if he’s good at anything.”
Oh good. Chevon wasn’t the only one suspicious of this guy.
“What’s your name again?” Vicky asked. If she narrowed her eyes any further, they’d be shut.
The man smiled broadly. Too broadly. “Joe. Joe Weir.”
“Joe has just joined us, and we’re so glad to have him,” the pastor said.
Chevon looked at the pastor. Then she looked at Mr. Joe Weir again. Certainly a pastor was a better judge of character than she was. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad. Maybe she was just being cranky because she was pregnant. Yeah, that was probably it. And yet, there was something about him. Something off.
Joe Weir caught her eye and smiled at her. Yes. Definitely something off.
“How did you do at the third house, Tonya?” the pastor asked.
“Pretty good. They were friendly, but the only need they had was their single daughter living in their basement. They asked us to find her a mate.”
Joe uncrossed his arms to fling them out in front of himself, palms out. “Sorry! I can’t fix that one!”
Everyone around the circle laughed as if that were the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Chevon looked at Jason with an expression that said, “What on earth?” but Jason didn’t even see her. He was too busy gazing at Joe Weir and laughing right along with the rest of them.
Chevon bit her lip. She must be missing something. This guy was a real hit with the Jesus-peeps. Yet more evidence she didn’t belong with the Jesus-peeps.
