The Soprano Wore Falsettos Read Online Free Page B

dollars by the end of April.”
    “That’s good,” I said. “Put it in a money market account and forget about it for a long time.”
    “I wish,” Meg grumbled. “The congregation found out about it, and they all have great ideas on how to spend it. See what you miss when you stay at home? Speaking of money, has anyone cashed that Powerball ticket yet? It jackpot was up to a hundred and twenty million.”
    “I haven’t heard.”
    Cynthia Johnsson came over to take our order. She’d been working at The Ginger Cat off and on, since it opened a few years ago. She was also a certified belly dancer, giving lessons and doing quite a number of parties around the area. I asked her once how one became “certified.” She just winked, and I didn’t inquire further. I’d once gotten Meg some lessons for her birthday, but had been informed, rather brusquely, that my generosity was hardly a present for her and my birthday was quite a way off. Luckily, I’d had a back-up present in hand.
    “What’ll it be?” Cynthia asked.
    “Turkey and sprouts on whole wheat,” answered Meg. “And some raspberry tea.”
    Cynthia wrote it down and turned to me.
    “Got anything bloody? Something out of a cow?”
    Cynthia shook her head. “No beef. Annie’s on a health kick. Chicken salad or turkey. Hey! How about a bean curd and chive sandwich on toasted sourdough? Or maybe a portabella mushroom wrap with avocado paste?”
    I shuddered. “Turkey,” I said. “On rye. No sprouts.”
    “It comes with sprouts,” Cynthia said. “And a side of baby carrots in an almond glaze.”
    “Give ’em to a rabbit,” I griped. “Put some cheese on that sandwich and an extra slice of turkey. And make it rare.”
    “Our turkey’s already cooked,” teased Cynthia, “but I could put some strawberry jam on it. You can pretend that it’s blood.”
    “No thanks,” I said. “And get me a cup of coffee, will you?”
    “I will. Anything in particular?”
    “Whatever you’ve got made as long as the name contains four words or less.”
    “How about Colombia Nariño Supremo?”
    “Sure. Only three words. Sounds great.”
    As Cynthia walked off, I turned my attention back to Meg. She’d been looking at me with that kind of expression that meant I was going to be asked to do something that I didn’t want to do, something I probably shouldn’t do, and something I knew I’d regret once I got into it.
    “Okay,” I said. “What is it?”
    “Well,” she started, “since I’m the chair of this committee, I get to choose the other members.”
    “Nope,” I said. “No way. I hate committees.”
    “Now listen here, Hayden,” she said, with more than a touch of schoolmarm in her voice. “You are a member of St. Barnabas whether or not you choose to work there. This is very important, and it can’t be left to a bunch of nitwits.”
    “Who else do you have?” I asked, resignation already apparent in my voice and confirmed by Meg’s immediate change of tone.
    “Malcolm’s agreed to be on it. Billy Hixon is on since he’s the Senior Warden. Also Gwen Jackson and Lee Dalbey. If you agree, then that’ll be six. That’s what the vestry wants. Three vestry members and three lay people.”
    “You know, of course, that it will make some folks pretty angry. It smacks of nepotism, even though we aren’t married.”
    “Sure, but you’re still a member of St. Barnabas and everyone agrees that you’re the one who got the money for the church in the first place. If you hadn’t solved the crime, we wouldn’t have even known the money was out there.”
    “All right,” I conceded. “How’s it going to work?”
    “We’re going to have a church-wide meeting for anyone who wants to come and voice an opinion. Then the committee will make recommendations, and the vestry has the final vote on the committee’s proposals. If they don’t take them, it goes back to the committee and we start again. The vestry can vote on the committee’s