Once they were back in the car and heading home, Harry said, “Your kids are out of the house. No reason you can’t work full-time.”
“When we graduated from college and I got my first job as a legal assistant, I remember shopping in the supermarket, seeing the women at the checkout counters and wondering what went wrong. You know what I mean? How did they wind up in that job?”
“I never thought about it. You were, are, better about that stuff than I am.” Harry put on her sunglasses.
“Well, I thought maybe those cashiers had picked the wrong man. He’d left them high and dry and with children. Or they were people who didn’t plan ahead and one day woke up at forty. As years rolled along, I realized that sometimes bad luck rolls over someone like a tide. I felt less superior after that. Now I look at those women and think it could be me, you know?”
Harry thought for a long time. “I don’t. Susan, I always knew I would farm.”
“But what if the crop failed year after year? What if you became injured?”
“I have had crops fail and I survived, on not much. I figure whatever happens, I can deal with it. ’Course, it’s easier now with Fair. My hardest times were without him.”
“It preys on my mind, finding Hester like that,” said Susan. “She never expressed fears. But I think maybe her ideas—like aliens being responsible for crop circles, stuff like that—maybe that was how she expressed fear.”
“Susan, you might be right. I don’t know. I don’t look into other people like you do or like Fair does; I kind of take everyone at face value.”
“What if they’re hiding behind a mask?” Tucker wondered.
Although two hundred and twenty years old, the organ at St. Luke’s sounded as good as the day it was installed, twenty years after the church’s cornerstone was laid, and possibly even better, for time had enriched the sounds. The early small congregations had worked tirelessly to afford such a wonderful organ. Subsequent generations of worshippers continued to give thanks.
This Sunday morning, even Cazenovia, Lucy Fur, and Elocution luxuriated in the deep reverberations of the low notes, the sparkle of the high. While Reverend Jones delivered his sermon, the three cats sat in the balcony along with the organist and the robed choir. Occasionally the choir would sing down below, but somehow their voices always sounded better from the balcony. As the cats often attended services, none of the choir members paid them any mind.
Lucy Fur listened as her human’s deep voice filled the church. “Poppy worked so hard on this sermon.”
“He likes any story about people helping people,” said Elocution. “I don’t think there are Bible stories about people helping animals.”
Cazenovia added her two cents: “There’s lots of stories about us helping them. All the animals in the stable, and how about the donkey that carried Jesus on his last journey?”
“We helped build Christianity,” said Lucy Fur. “I mean, how about all the disciples? They had to travel. Donkeys and mules carried them or carted them, too. Dogs protected them and cats kept the grain supply free from pests. All the saints would have died young if it weren’t for us.”
“That’s too long ago and far away,” said Elocution. “How about all we did to create the United States? We saved the colonists time and again, and then when we went to war against Great Britain, animals fought and suffered, too. Cats are perfect spies. The problem was the humans didn’t listen. We could have shortened the war.”
Cazenovia smiled. “Poppy reads aloud, and remember when he read about those battles lost in South Carolina? But it all turned out all right. We’re here.”
As the Reverend Jones preached about humans seeing beyond one another’s superficial differences and helping others, the cats convinced themselves of their own superiority.
Once the service ended, Reverend Jones walked down the center aisle to the door at the back of the church. As the congregants exited, he shook the hand of each one, chatting with them a few moments.
Harry had always liked this part of the service.
As this was the eleven o’clock service, the crowd of worshippers poured out onto the grounds a bit after twelve noon. The temperature had risen to sixty-two degrees; it was a gorgeous October day, the leaves in flaming color.
BoomBoom and her partner, Alicia, chatted with Susan and Ned. Groups formed and re-formed as different folks caught up with one another.
Neil Jordan moved from group to group, selling tickets to the Halloween Hayride. Whether they intended to go or not, everybody bought one.
“Harry, Fair,” he greeted them. “Tickets?”
“We bought five,” said Harry. “I bought them from Hester.” She thought about that for a moment, then recovered. “But tell you what. If you give me a handful, I’ll sell them this week.”
“Harry, I only have twenty left.” He beamed.
“Ah. I’ll get more from the library, then. That’s wonderful, Neil.”
“Eighty tickets.” He couldn’t resist telling the number he’d sold. “I’ll have these twenty sold in no time.”
“You’re a big success.” Fair slapped him on the back.
Before he left them, Neil said, “Harry, I want to bring you materials on some different kinds of fertilizer I have. If you fertilize now in the fall, it’s perfect. And if you’ve planted winter wheat or cold-resistant rye, you will be amazed at the yield. I know you’re busy, but I’m really high on these new types of fertilizer applications. The normal corn yield in a good year is about 207 bushels per acre without irrigation. My fields yielded 250 and my irrigated fields averaged 320 per acre. And this wasn’t a particularly good year. If you like my products, we can work out a payment plan.”
“Sure. I’ll call you.”
He persisted. “I rented two thousand acres in Nelson County to show what these fertilizers can do. I numbered the strips just like you do with corn varieties. You just wait. Next year’s numbers will soar.” With that and a big smile, Neil left.
Walking with her husband toward BoomBoom and Alicia, Harry remarked, “He’ll soon have as many acres under cultivation at Buddy Janss.”
Fair shrugged. “Neil seems to thrive on competition, on a task, I guess.”
“Hey, wasn’t that a great sermon?” Alicia, a former movie star now in her fifties, hugged Fair.
The old friends all started talking at once as soon as Susan and Ned joined them.
“My wife told me you’ll start on the roof tomorrow,” Ned said to Harry.
“Be done before nightfall.”
“Susan said that Seth has old slate shingles,” said the Richmond politician, with respect.
“Ned, I think he has everything. He doesn’t even bother with the salvage yards. He has lines to those small companies dismantling old buildings or rebuilding historic ones that can be saved.”
“Smart. I think there’s a real niche for that kind of business. It’s not all big companies. I keep trying to push in the House for the small businessman, the artisans, and little by little some of my colleagues are getting it.”
Fair smiled. “You can’t always shoot the stag, but you can still eat if you bring home a lot of rabbits.”
The group smiled and nodded.
BoomBoom then said, “Sometimes I think small is better. I go to the bank now, the same bank I have used for twenty-five years, it’s been bought up and amalgamated so many times that even though the tellers all know me, I have to go through hoops! I can’t even transfer money from my personal account to my business account without paperwork. My money!”