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Five. Bumping into each other, joking around in Spanish, underdressed for the weather in sneakers and the ripstop jackets she saw kids in her congregation wearing. She shook her head.
    The people we don’t see.
    Feeling well justified in her decision to aid Sister Lucia, she returned to the deacon’s Scout. “Father Aberforth.” She willed her eyes away from the speedometer as he more or less accelerated up Route 9. “Would you describe me as impetuous or fearless?”
    He glanced at her. “I would describe you, Ms. Fergusson, as the vehicle through which God shows me He still has a great deal of work for me to do.”
     
     
     
LENT
     
     
March
     
     
     
I
     
     
    Father? I’m finished up. Them floral guild folks are still puttin‘ up palms for the service tomorrow, so I’m not locking the sanctuary.“ Mr. Hadley hovered in the doorway to the church office. Unless he was cleaning, repairing, or tending, Clare never saw him go into the offices. Fair enough. He had his own kingdom in the boiler room and the furnace room and the mysterious Sexton’s Closet.
    Lois, their church secretary, glanced at the clock. “School bus time?”
    “Honey’s out on another interview.” Mr. Hadley sounded out of breath. He clapped one meaty hand against his chest. “Sorry,” he said, panting. “Guess I come up those stairs too fast. Anyways, I don’t want them grandbabies of mine comin‘ home to an empty house.”
    “Absolutely not. When my children were small, I was always there when they got home. Give them a good snack, make sure they’ve started their homework, and then you can have Happy Hour in peace.”
    The Reverend Elizabeth de Groot looked scandalized. She had been assigned as St. Alban’s deacon in January, and two months sharing an office had not accustomed her to Lois’s sense of humor. Clare was beginning to suspect it wasn’t going to happen.
    “How’s Hadley’s job search going?” she asked, before Elizabeth could say anything.
    “I don’t mind tellin‘ you, it’s been disappointin’. Used t’be plenty of good jobs for a body not afraid a hard work. Now what the Mexicans don’t come up and take, they ship overseas.” He made a gesture that said
what ya gonna do
? “Eh-nh. She’ll find sumpin‘ sooner or later. She’s at the police station today.”
    Lois and Elizabeth did not look at Clare.
    “Hard to picture her in uniform,” Mr. Hadley went on, unaware of the charged atmosphere. “Allus wanted to be an actress when she was little. Pretty enough for it, too. But I guess it’s hard to make a livin‘ at it.”
    “I’m praying for her,” Clare said. “Let me know if there’s anything more concrete I can do.”
    “Eh.” He fished a less-than-clean handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face with it. “If you know anybody in the police department, you can put in a good word.”
    Lois choked, coughed, and grabbed for her water bottle. “You okay?” the oblivious sexton asked.
    Red-faced, Lois waved him off. “Fine,” she gasped.
    “You’d better get going if you want to make that school bus.” Clare glared at the secretary, who was thumping herself on the chest. “We’ll make sure Lois doesn’t swallow any more words the wrong way.”
    “ ‘Kay. See ya tomorrow. ’Bye, Father.” Mr. Hadley thumped off up the hall.
    Lois blinked several times, then ran her fingers through her strawberry-blond bob, restoring it to its usual razor-cut perfection. “Let’s see. Where were we?”
    Clare decided discretion was the better part of valor. “Holy Week. We need three more readers, and somebody has to let the AA group know their meeting is going to conflict with the Stations of the Cross.”
    “Why do you let that man call you Father?” Elizabeth smoothed her Chanel-style jacket over her woolen shift. She was the only woman Clare had ever seen who managed to turn a Little Black Dress into clergy wear. “Don’t you worry he’s being satiric? Denigrating your