Death Goes on Retreat Read Online Free Page A

handkerchief. She pointed to the nearest dormitory building.
    “St. Philomena? Didn’t the Church declare her persona non grata?” Mary Helen asked, more to distract Felicita than anything else.
    “Don’t tell her.” Felicita nodded toward a statue of the saint illumined by one of the overhead lights. Philomena, dressed in her native toga, held a palm frond in her stone hand as a symbol of her martyrdom. “She’s the one we prayed to for Beverly.”
    “Be careful what you pray for.” Mary Helen smiled, paraphrasing the old Chinese proverb. “You just may get it!”
    Over steaming cups of herbal tea, Felicita spilled out the whole story. “For years we had nothing but trouble finding a decent cook. We were desperate. Then Beverly came along. She had excellent recommendations. And lives not far away, over in the Bonny Doon area.” She shrugged. “And so we didn’t hesitate when she asked for a two-year signed contract. Actually, we were delighted.
    “ ‘How long can a two-year contract be?’ I asked Mother Superior at the time.” Felicita scowled at her own foolishness. “Now I know!
    “From her first day here, she began to alienate the other members of the staff. First, the women in thekitchen. Then the housekeepers. The ladies in the office. We can’t keep a living soul! She even bothers Mr. King, the caretaker.” Felicita’s eyes blinked in disbelief. “And Mr. King is almost stone-deaf! The only ones who seem to like her are Rin and Tin-Tin. Maybe it’s because she feeds them.
    “And now, Laura. She’s our fourth dishwasher since Beverly came. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a dishwasher?”
    Eileen shook her head.
    “Worse than a cook. Next to impossible,” Felicita sighed. “I had great hopes for Laura. She’s a graduate student in drama here at the university and, as she said, she needs the job. When she didn’t quit in the first few weeks, naively I thought she was happy. Actually, I thought Beverly rather liked Laura. She seemed to talk more to her than she talked to any of the others. In a friendly way, I mean.”
    “Why don’t you simply fire the woman?” Eileen’s dander was up.
    “Our lawyer says she could sue. And Mother Superior fears a suit more than sin itself.” Felicita caught herself. “Not that I blame her. We have so little and we’ve worked so hard for it, it seems silly to risk it all because we can’t reason with one woman. That is, unless you’ve tried yourself.”
    “I take it you have.”
    Sister Felicita’s pale blue eyes sparked. “Might as well spit in the wind. Pardon the expression. It just comes back at you. She knows she has us over a barrel.”
    “What exactly does she do?” Mary Helen was curious.The woman sounded like something right out of a gothic novel.
    “It’s like putting your thumb on mercury. No one who quits ever says exactly why. Most of them try to be kind. Saying such things as ‘I need more hours,’ or ‘the commute is too hard,’ or some such thing. And if you ask Beverly what happened, she falls into a rage, slamming pots. You saw her act tonight.”
    “Calling her on it does no good?” Eileen asked, obviously unable to believe it.
    “It only makes matters worse.”
    “Monsignor McHugh seemed to know her. Maybe he could reason with her.”
    Felicita sighed. “Many of the priests know her. They come here with their parish groups. Believe it or not, she’s worse to priests than to anyone. It is almost as if she hates them.”
    “How much of the contract is left?” Mary Helen asked, shuffling through her mind for the name of a Mount St. Francis alum who was a sharp contract attorney. She’d call Shirley, her secretary in the Alumnae Office, first thing in the morning.
    “A year and two months,” Felicita said. She made it sound like a lifetime sentence to Devil’s Island.
    Wearily, Felicita rose and rinsed out their teacups. “Nothing is up to par,” she said, straightening up the counter. “I am