Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Gayle adjusts her glasses to get a better look at me. “And where did you grow up?”
“Indiana.”
“Oh, been there once, in the winter too.” She shudders, then laughs. “My grandchildren have been begging us to take them on a ski trip, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it!”
“You have grandchildren? I would not have guessed that.” I might not be adept at ass kissing, but the longer I spend in this role, the better I seem to be getting at it.
“Oh.” She chuckles, patting my arm in a matronly manner. She’s nothing like those thirsty ladies on Sloane’s tiki cruise today, the ones who looked seconds away from circling me. I’m sure Gayle would label them sinful heathens. “Aren’t you sweet. I have six.”
“Six!” I force with exaggeration—seriously, whose skin am I wearing? It’s chafing. “Tell me about them.”
“Oh, gosh, where to begin.” She gulps her champagne. “Well, there’s Noah, Jacob, and Elijah. Those are my daughter Mary’s sons. And then my son Samuel has two girls and a boy: Ruth, Joseph, and Sarah.”
“Good Christian names,” I note.
“Oh, yes.” She nods, her brow furrowed with pleasant surprise. “Henry said the very same thing.”
I’ll bet he did. He was looking for an angle in, and clearly, he found it. “And which congregation do you attend in the area?”
“Our Lady of the Pines.”
“That’s the one on …” I frown, as if struggling to search my memory, letting it dangle.
“Sugar Sand Drive, in Old Town. The big, beautiful white church with the palms on either side.”
“Right. I’ve seen it. Nice place.” If I’ve passed it, I don’t recall.
“Yes, Henry and his lovely wife are coming for service on Sunday.”
“Are they, now …” I purse my lips to suppress my smile. Abbi, I understand. She was raised in the church. Before coming to Alaska, she was set on marrying the reverend’s son in their small Pennsylvania farming community. But I doubt Henry has stepped foot in a church since he was forced to as a child, and from the snide comments I’ve caught about the institution and the people who frequent it, I’d half expect him to go up in flames when he crosses the threshold.
“Henry was telling me how his mother-in-law is a devout Christian.”
“She is that.” I met Bernadette Mitchell in Alaska for the wedding. I’ve never seen anyone spontaneously cross themselves so often and for seemingly no reason—usually, when Margo was in the room. How she came around to her daughter marrying a man she considered the devil is still a mystery, but I’ll bet it had something to do with money. It always does.
As it likely does here. “So, you’re an active member at Our Lady?”
“I’d say so.” She chuckles, as if my observation is cute. “When I’m not busy running youth groups and charities for the area. And then, of course, there’s the work I do for the school board and the advisory council, and …” She lists all her extracurricular activities, along with awards and recognitions for all her good Christian work.
I listen intently, searching for the hook Henry cast. I know him too well, and he buys his way into everything.
“You sound like a busy lady.”
“I don’t rest much, that’s for sure. Howard—that’s my husband—complains sometimes that I don’t know how to sit still, and maybe I don’t, but I feel like my work is important. I think it’s one of the reasons I keep getting reelected.”
“It is. Absolutely.” My tone, my rapt attention … Who the fuck am I right now? Surely, I could get an Oscar nod for this.
It goads her on. “My Back to Grace Foundation is especially important. It funds all sorts of events that bring families into the community. I started it nearly fifteen years ago when I saw a distinctive shift in values.” Her eyes widen with meaning. “It’s concerning, seeing so many young people losing their way. All these alternative lifestyles and ideas being forced down their throats, especially with social media feeding them nonsense. Every corner of entertainment is pushing their sin-filled agenda these days. Not even literature is safe anymore, aside from the Good Book. They can’t change that!”
Clearly, Gayle is a specific kind of Christian—the kind who thinks she has a right to tell people how to live and hides behind bible verses while she does it.
I bite my tongue against the urge to ask if me and Connor fucking a woman at the same time is considered an alternative lifestyle. “So, this foundation, how does it combat these issues?”
“It focuses efforts on providing as many wholesome, faith-based interactions as possible in the community. By doing so, I believe these lost people can find their way back to the Lord.”
“Praise be.” It’s taking everything in me to keep a straight face.
She nods with approval. “The hotel’s contributions have certainly helped.”