Dead Wrong by William X. Kienzle Page A

“If you want to blame somebody—or thank somebody—the somebody would be Uncle Bob. He and Father Pool are about the same age. Pool hasn’t been a priest as long as Uncle Bob. He did some time in the army before he went to the seminary. Otherwise they would almost have been classmates. But they’re friends. Uncle Bob knew Father Pool was looking for a secretary and manager, so he told him about you. But not I …” She laughed. “I don’t have that kind of clout.”
    The waitress refilled their cups.
    “If you don’t mind my asking,” Mary Lou said as she stirred her steaming coffee, “what are you doing there anyway?”
    “Where?”
    “The chancery. Don’t get upset, but I’ve wondered about that for a long time. I mean, you could get a job anywhere practically. You’ve got the talent. Why would you work for the Church?”
    “Because it’s interesting.”
    “How interesting could any job be?”
    “It’s different. It’s more different than any other place I can think of. It’s so interesting that I haven’t got time to tell you how interesting it is … how interesting it can get.”
    “Okay. So it’s interesting and it’s different. So will my job be at St. Raphael’s.”
    “No, no. Lou, no parish job can compare with working in the central Church structure.”
    “Well, there’s one thing that’s comparable.”
    “What’s that?”
    “The salary.”
    “Lou, you don’t know what I make.”
    “More than I will at Raphael’s, but still not much. The Church just doesn’t pay. It certainly doesn’t pay as much as you could get almost anywhere outside. And you’ve got the talent, Brenda: With your brains and experience, you could work almost anywhere you wanted. Even without knowing exactly what you make, I’ll bet you could triple it tomorrow.”
    “Lou … Lou …” Brenda seemed to debate within herself about what to say next. “Lou, money is not that important a factor right now.”
    It was as if a light bulb lit over Mary Lou’s head. “You mean … because of … Ted Nash?”
    Brenda gripped her cup so tightly her knuckles whitened. “Lou …”
    “I know. I know. You don’t want to discuss it. But you can talk about it with me. I’m not going to get all moral on you again like I did at the party. I’ve thought it over. And I decided I was wrong. I’m not your conscience or your guardian angel. But … we might just as well be sisters, you know. And the whole thing doesn’t make sense.”
    “What … doesn’t?” It was obvious that this topic was painful for Brenda.
    “You! Working for peanuts when you could have almost any job you wanted and you could almost name your salary. On top of that, you’re involved with a married man who is probably going to stay married. So that relationship is going nowhere. Whereas … you could have just about any man you wanted. That’s what doesn’t make sense!”
    Brenda drained her cup and paused a few moments. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Lou. And if we’re going to remain ‘sisters,’ let’s not ever mention this again. But … look at it this way: My relationship with Ted—whatever it is—makes it possible for me to not be concerned about money. So, I can work for ‘peanuts’ without having to worry about a salary … see? That makes some sense. And, Lou, if it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, take it on faith.”
    “Faith?”
    “Faith in me. Take it on faith in me … okay?”
    A pause. Then, “Okay.”
    “Now, I don’t want to rush you, Lou, but it’s about time for me to get back to work.”
    “Oh … oh, sure.” Mary Lou had only a small portion left of her salad. She proceeded to finish it.
    While Mary Lou ate, Brenda had nothing better to do than study her once more. There was something about Mary Lou that engendered in some others an urge to watch over her. Brenda was one of those who felt called to protect Mary Lou. The question was, from what? Brenda’s intuition suggested she