Dead Wrong by William X. Kienzle

wrong with that. The stipends for these services are set by the archdiocese. Just don’t require any more than the law does.”
    “What if people complain to him?”
    Brenda shook her head. “No problem. He knows the people should make their offerings. He just can’t bring himself to ask for them—or even accept them. You get them. He won’t object. In fact, he’ll be grateful you’re taking care of what he knows he should be doing.
    “Then, he’s got the pulpit, but you’ve got the parish bulletin. Keep an open, running account in the bulletin of the parish budget as compared with the weekly offerings. Keep after the parishioners through the bulletin.
    “They know the place can’t run on good will alone. Oh, they like to think it can, especially since they’re never reminded that they need to support the place. But at Raphael’s, the people have the money; it’s just that they would rather keep the money than give it away … a natural enough sentiment.
    “The thing is, Lou, you can do it. It’s right down your alley. It’s practically made to order for you.”
    Mary Lou tentatively picked up her fork and resumed eating. At length, she said, “You know an awful lot about this thing, don’t you?”
    “What thing?”
    “This Archdiocese of Detroit.”
    Brenda smiled. “I work for it.”
    “You’re a secretary! I’ve been a secretary more times than I like to remember. Depending on the boss, secretaries know as much as they want. As much as they want to get involved, that is. But you know an awful lot about the Detroit Church.”
    “I guess so,” Brenda admitted. “But see: It worked out pretty well for you, didn’t it?”
    “I have to admit.”
    As they ate in silence for a few moments, Brenda studied Mary Lou. She was dressed up, rather more than usual. And she looked good.
    Ordinarily, Mary Lou’s hair looked the same whether she had just gotten out of bed or had just washed and combed it. All those tight little curls. But today it looked different. She must have had it cut and shaped. It could still be improved. But better.
    She’d paid more attention to her clothes too, and it showed. By and large, with a good bit of attention, she might just be stunning.
    And if she were, then what?
    Then a man. A serious man. Not somebody who would chase her till he caught her and then discard her. No, for this, she would need help and support. That Brenda could and would supply.
    If Mary Lou were to find Mr. Right, most of her problems would be solved. No more drifting from one job to another. No more insecurity and loneliness. Fulfillment.
    It would be almost as big a consolation and joy for Maureen as it would be for Mary Lou. Maureen worried a lot over the ultimate insecurity of her “daughter.” Seeing her settled down and reliably cared for would put Maureen’s concern to rest.
    While Brenda’s evaluation of Mary Lou’s upcoming job situation was accurate in every detail, Brenda knew that she had oversimplified Mary Lou’s ability to handle the problems she was about to encounter.
    Could Mary Lou actually accomplish all this fiscal stability in the face of almost no encouragement or support from the pastor? The feat would require a strong personality. Did Mary Lou fit the bill? Maybe.
    But in her heart, Brenda doubted it.
    And then what? Lou would be out of another job and at loose ends. Maureen would be distraught. Back to square one for the umpteenth time.
    No, marriage was the answer. Or somehow, a sudden influx of a great deal of money. But where in the world would that come from?
    When Mary Lou spoke again, Brenda was so lost in thought she was startled.
    “Did you get me this job?”
    “Me! What gave you that idea?”
    “The way you explained everything so well. It’s as if you planned the whole thing.” She fluttered a hand at Brenda. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful. If I’m supposed to be grateful to you, I am. I just wanted to know.”
    Brenda smiled and shook her head.