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him.
    Getting the last word in was petty. But it felt so good. She grinned while she pictured Randy in a tall pilgrim hat and shoes with big, shiny buckles.
    He was right though. One missing ingredient in the recipe of her new life had been church. She could try another way to worship than the comfort of Woodside’s tradition. Nothing would ever be the same again. She was the one who had to adjust if she wanted to fit in here in her new home. It was her choice.
    * * * *
    Randy frowned on the walk back home. Instead of being furious at the way the woman had treated him, he felt as though he needed to apologize for his behavior. He had been surprised to see her bent like that, taking care to make repairs on his parents’ house, upkeep that Dad had once been proud to perform. Mrs. Runyon had been a surprise all around, all right. A widow woman wanted to buy the house the banker told them, immediately after that vicious ex-wife of Ted’s demanded he sell out and give her half the cash. A widow woman didn’t seem like much trouble to have next door. Randy hadn’t counted on a widow woman who looked and acted like Grace Runyon. Not elderly at all, but…trim and…fit. Maybe around his own age. Capable and independent. An answer to his brother’s prayers for childcare?
    Randy doubted that Mrs. Runyon was aware of the gossip grinding away in East Bay. The joint owners of the resale shop where the woman had first acquired duds for herself and the house regularly visited Kaye’s Café. Randy stopped in to meet up with the other members of the co-op when he was able. It wasn’t long before anyone who cared to listen in on their conversation knew how the newcomer decorated her house as well as her person with offerings from the shop. He could hear their whispers even now:
    “That old brown club chair, you know, that we had since old Mr. Woolver was…”
    “And you know the dishes from crazy old…”
    “I heard she doesn’t believe in church. How does that sit with the Marshalls?”
    “You know that young man has her taking care of the little boy. Poor motherless thing…”
    Randy didn’t care if everyone in town talked about his new neighbor but he had to stop the dissection of his family. They were not going to dredge up old hurts now. Not when things were getting back to normal and the co-op was back on its feet and doing well. Forcing the widow woman to appear in public at church was a start.
    * * * *
    Grace knew she would further entrench herself in the Marshalls’ lives when she agreed to attend church with them. But did that mean she had to act more friendly? More neighborly? How could she let them, and the others, know that she was here because she wanted to be? Whatever the reason behind Randy’s invitation, she was curious and hungry to hear the Word of God preached. The next Sunday she walked soberly down the aisle and sat in the Marshall family pew.
    Mrs. Ten Veldt, a row ahead of them, wasted no time in turning around and loudly whispering that she enjoyed seeing Grace wear her former favorite dress. “My dear, I knew at my age I was only growing wider and shorter, so”—she shrugged her shoulders—“I donated most of my wardrobe to charity.” She sniffed. “It looks good on you, too.”
    What was she supposed to say to that? “Thank you.” She opened her hymnbook and coughed.
    Contrary to Randy’s declaration, not everyone in East Bay attended church on Sundays. The pews at First Covenant were spotty with attendees.
    When she informed Ted she had agreed to go to church, he told her it was easier for them to go with Randy.
    “I tried to argue about going to New Fellowship where some of my friends go. Better music, more kids. But Covenant was my parents’ church and their parents before them. Great Uncle Harry was the pastor at one time. It’s hard for Randy to think about anything else. I guess it doesn’t hurt Eddy. I remember how hard it was to sit for forty-five minutes, too, until we went