A Light in the Window Read Online Free Page A

money?”
    Sam blinked. “Pardon me?”
    Humor played at the edge of the priest’s mouth, which was compressed like his jaw in a battle of wills. “Money, Mr. O’Rourke. You know, remuneration for a job well-done that allows you to buy a round a drinks at the corner pub, dazzle a pretty girl with an ice-cream soda, or purchase the proper clothes befitting the neighborhood rakes?”
    The blood drained from Patrick’s face as quickly as it did from Sam’s.
    “Yes, well, you see, gentlemen,” Father Fitz continued in a tone as matter-of-fact as his smile, “a priest has friends in high places in addition to the Almighty, you know. Such as, shall we say, the Herald ?”
    Patrick’s eyes lumbered closed, the lump in his throat as tight as the noose Father Fitz was cinching around their necks. Both he and Sam needed their jobs at the Herald if Patrick was going to go to college and Sam was going to rise to management.
    “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you boys, but Arthur Hennessey and I go way back.” Father Fitz nodded with a faint smile, eyes trailing into what apparently was a fond trip down Memory Lane. “Actually coached him on the parish league, if you can imagine that.” He snapped out of his reverie, his smile brightening considerably. “Of course that was way before he took over as CEO of the Herald , you understand. Although I have to admit, nobody tossed a meaner knuckleball.”
    Patrick stifled a groan. Except you, Father Fitz ...
    “So … “ Patrick jolted when the priest clapped his hands, his grin almost as loud. “I look forward to seeing you gentlemen at the fundraiser meeting next week, where you’ll learn all about just why absconding with the sacristy wine is not a good idea.”
    “This is blackmail, Father,” Sam said with a scowl.
    Father Fitz blinked, a wedge popping at the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I suppose it is, Samuel …” He quickly dismissed his concern with a wave of a hand. “Well, no never mind,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, his smile veering into dazzling, “I’m on good terms with the Man upstairs—I’ll just absolve myself.”
    With a near-jaunty turn, he made his way to the door, pivoting when he placed his hand on the knob. “You know, I really should be thanking you gentlemen for helping me out. I’m afraid Sister Francine has been on my tail for weeks now, badgering me for able-bodied men to assist her new fundraiser chair.” His lips parted in a gleam of white. “And after a senior year of English Lit with the woman, I’m sure you boys can appreciate the kind of duress I’ve been under.” He hoisted the bottle of wine in the air. “You know, I believe I may owe a debt of thanks to this tasty port … and to you as well.”
    He turned to leave, but not before needling them with a knowing smile tempered by a stern gaze. “But a word of caution, gentlemen. When it comes to the drink, make no mistake—there are always debts to be paid. So if I were you, I’d weigh the cost carefully before you imbibe anytime soon.” He tipped the bottle in a salute and opened the door. “Tuesday, seven sharp at the rectory—don’t be late.” He winked. “The top of the evening to you, gentlemen, and I bid you good night.”
    Patrick stared open-mouthed as the arched wooden door squealed closed with a thud, the air in his lungs as slack as the line of his jaw. “A good night?” he repeated, staring at Sam with a dazed shake of his head. “Well, it certainly was, but not anymore.”

Chapter Three
     

    “Something smells awfully good in here.” Mr. O’Rourke ushered his wife and three daughters through the kitchen door with a sleeping boy in his arms, a warm smile on his face that reminded Marcy so much of Sam, her stomach skipped. Handsome in a charcoal sack suit complete with black-striped bow tie, his black eyes twinkled like Julie’s as he tossed his homburg hat on the counter and snitched a warm oatmeal cookie. He gave Marcy a wink.