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Esther
The thunder clapped so loudly that Esther jumped. She looked at the ceiling. “I sure do hope the roof holds.”
Cathy looked up. “I do too, now that we own it.”
“Don’t you have any more money tucked away for a new roof?”
“Vicky!” Esther scolded. Thus far, no one had discussed the size of Cathy’s donation, and Esther thought that was best. They’d been shocked by it, because Cathy was such a tightwad, but once Esther had thought about it, her surprise had faded. Cathy had worked at a great job. Her frugalness had probably allowed her to grow a healthy nest egg.
“Sorry,” Cathy said. “I have no more money. For real this time.”
Vicky chuckled humorlessly. “The roof will hold. There was no water damage in here. If it hasn’t leaked the last thirty years, it probably isn’t going to leak tonight.”
Esther thought that might just be her luck. Since they were about to fling open the doors tomorrow morning, the roof might just give in. “I hope you’re right, Vicky. But that sounds like a horrible storm. If it doesn’t pass, I might be sleeping right here.”
Rachel put the last screw into the wobbly altar railing. She was the handiest one among them. She was the only handy one among them. “There.” She winced as she came to her feet.
Vicky looked around the sanctuary. “I’m not sure why we’re all freaking out, acting like tomorrow is opening night. I doubt anyone is going to come.”
“They’ll come,” Rachel said confidently.
“How do you know that?” Vicky demanded.
“First of all, curiosity is a strong motivator. People want to know what we’re doing in here, so they’ll come check us out.”
Esther thought she was dead wrong about that. Curiosity might be strong when there was a new restaurant in town or a car wreck nearby, but she didn’t think the principle applied to churches.
“Second,” Rachel continued. “I blasted the invitation all over social media.”
“You did?” Vicky cried. “What were you thinking?”
Cathy laughed. “Why is that a bad thing, Vicky? Just because you don’t know how to use social media doesn’t mean someone else can’t.”
“It’s not that I don’t know how to use it,” Vicky hissed. “I just prefer not to. It’s all foolishness. But my point is, you can’t go blasting it all over the internet. Who knows who will show up?”
“Vicky,” Esther said, “we want people to come. All the people. If Rachel wrote something on social media and what she wrote brings in a weirdo, well then that weirdo needs Jesus, and we will be glad he is here.”
Vicky looked disgusted. “We don’t want weirdos. Weirdos drive off the good families.”
While Vicky’s point made some practical sense, Esther still thought her theology was dangerous. “We’ll welcome the good families and the weirdos.”
Vicky rolled her eyes.
Dawn was staring across the room with her hands on her hips. “While you’re spending all this time on the computer, Rachel, have you sold the organ yet? We owe Barbara’s son for lumber.”
“Lumber? What for?” Vicky said. “He hasn’t done anything yet.”
Barbara glared at her. “He hasn’t done anything because he hasn’t had the lumber. He also works sixty hours a week.”
They all stared at Rachel expectantly. “About that.” It was evident that Rachel did not want to share whatever it was she had to share.
Esther had a pretty good idea of what Rachel was holding back. Esther had done some of her own research and knew that the original plan of selling the organ for a sudden influx of cash was not going to be as easy as she’d thought.
“Well,” Vicky said. “Spit it out.”
Rachel took a deep breath. “Nobody panic, but from what I can tell, we won’t be able to sell this organ.”
“What?” Vicky cried. “What does that mean?”
Rachel scowled at her. “It means just what I said. We can’t sell it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Vicky said. “If you said we can’t sell it for much, then I can see the cause for alarm, but you said we can’t sell it at all. Of course we can sell it.”
Rachel shook her head slowly. “If we were to sell it, we would have to pay someone to come take it apart and move it. And that process costs more than the organ is worth. We might, and I stress might, be able to give it away, but I don’t even know if we could pull that off. I saw several other churches trying to give organs away, and there weren’t very many takers.”
“Give it away?” Vicky cried. “We’re not going to give it away!” She glared at the organ as if it had personally offended her. “And it can’t just sit there. It’s enormous!”
“I think it can sit there just fine,” Esther said. “It’s not hurting anyone, and it’s not like we’re desperate for space.”
“But it’s enormous!” Vicky said again.
“If it’s going to sit there, we ought to use it,” Dawn said.
“About that,” Rachel said. They looked at her expectantly again.
Barbara sneezed and cried out in pain. Three of them said “God bless you” in unison.
Rachel asked, “Gallstones?”
Barbara nodded sadly. “Sneezing with gallstones hurts more than having a baby.”
Esther snickered.
“Never mind that,” Vicky said with a distinct lack of sympathy. “What about playing the organ? Does it work?”
Rachel nodded. “It works. I fiddled with it a little. But it badly needs to be cleaned, and it needs to be tuned.”
Vicky looked disgusted. “It’s not like any of us can play it.”
“We’ll put that on our to-do list,” Esther said, eager to put the matter to rest. “Once we get the plumbing fixed and the ramp built, we can hire someone to clean and tune the organ.”
“That would be a gigantic waste of money,” Vicky said.
“Well, we don’t have to argue about it until the money exists,” Esther said. She was glad there were seven of them so there would never be a tie vote. She dreaded the day that one of them went to heaven.
The thunder crashed again so close that Esther felt it in her bones. The lights flickered, and then everything went black.
