“I’d like to know who started it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Fiona rebutted quickly, but looking grim as well. All three of them knew how these things worked. Their father had ridden out several coup attempts. No one emerged unscathed.
“That’s not all,” Lorna continued. “Last night Edgar Willis and the Big Three showed up. Complete with balance sheets. They said the congregation was unhappy that they weren’t being shepherded since Bill left, that Alasdair was unapproachable and intimidating. They asked for his resignation.”
“No!” Fiona’s face was shocked.
“Yes.” Lorna nodded.
“What did Alasdair do?” Winifred demanded.
“He refused. Quite decisively.” She saw again his eyes, suddenly as hard and lifeless as granite. “I don’t think they’ll go to the congregation just yet. They were concerned about a split.”
“They’ll probably go back to President Whiteman and press harder from that end,” Winifred predicted.
“Alasdair won’t take the job at headquarters,” Fiona said, shaking her head. “He says a pastor’s job is to preach, not shuffle paper and count beans.”
“He may live to eat those words,” Winifred pointed out flatly.
“I can’t think a move to Richmond would be in anyone’s best interest,” Lorna said. “The children have had enough upsets. What they need now is stability.”
“Samantha is struggling as it is,” Winifred agreed.
“And how would Alasdair get on without his family?” Lorna asked. “By himself, without anyone at all to love the children.” Her eyes were beginning to tear up just at the thought.
“Alasdair’s leaving is out of the question,” Winifred pronounced. “There’s always been a MacPherson behind the pulpit of Knox Presbyterian. Great-great-grandfather Hamish, and then Great-grandfather Dougal, Grandfather Seamus. Father, of course—”
“And now Alasdair stands to be the last in a long line,” Fiona finished.
Winifred gave Lorna a hard look. “I wish you’d said something sooner.”
Lorna thought about defending herself, but Winifred spoke again before she had a chance to formulate her thoughts.
“Perhaps we could tell him to quit his other involvements.”
“For heaven’s sake, Winifred,” Fiona objected. “Alasdair is a grown man. He’s not our baby brother any longer. Besides, you know how headstrong he is.”
“Well, if he doesn’t mend his ways, he’s going to lose hisjob,” Winifred pointed out. “Perhaps he’ll just have to do what we tell him.”
“I’ll give the matter some thought,” Fiona said. “Then we shall talk to him.” Winifred nodded in agreement, the matter settled as far as they were concerned.
Lorna felt relief to have the problem out of her hands, but then just as quickly she remembered her strange commission the day she had prayed. The feeling that she had been chosen to help her brother, not her competent sisters. Ah, well. That notion had probably been just been one of her flights of fancy. She was perfectly content to support any solution to Alasdair’s problems, from whatever direction it came.
The food arrived, and Winifred and Fiona began talking about other things—Winifred about the Christmas bazaar the Women’s Fellowship would be sponsoring, Fiona about her upcoming bid for the chair of the History Department at George Mason. When they were finished, the two of them rose with one accord. Lorna followed suit.
“By the way,” Winifred said, “the sitter made it official.”
“They quit nearly as quickly as we can hire them,” Fiona said grimly. “The children are just going to have to go to a day care. I can’t keep on taking time to interview and check references.”
“I’ll do it,” Lorna offered quickly. “I’ll call the paper and have them put the ad back in. Perhaps this time will be different,” she said, but not really believing it. It was hard to find competent help willing to work for any wage, much less what her brother
“It doesn’t matter,” Fiona rebutted quickly, but looking grim as well. All three of them knew how these things worked. Their father had ridden out several coup attempts. No one emerged unscathed.
“That’s not all,” Lorna continued. “Last night Edgar Willis and the Big Three showed up. Complete with balance sheets. They said the congregation was unhappy that they weren’t being shepherded since Bill left, that Alasdair was unapproachable and intimidating. They asked for his resignation.”
“No!” Fiona’s face was shocked.
“Yes.” Lorna nodded.
“What did Alasdair do?” Winifred demanded.
“He refused. Quite decisively.” She saw again his eyes, suddenly as hard and lifeless as granite. “I don’t think they’ll go to the congregation just yet. They were concerned about a split.”
“They’ll probably go back to President Whiteman and press harder from that end,” Winifred predicted.
“Alasdair won’t take the job at headquarters,” Fiona said, shaking her head. “He says a pastor’s job is to preach, not shuffle paper and count beans.”
“He may live to eat those words,” Winifred pointed out flatly.
“I can’t think a move to Richmond would be in anyone’s best interest,” Lorna said. “The children have had enough upsets. What they need now is stability.”
“Samantha is struggling as it is,” Winifred agreed.
“And how would Alasdair get on without his family?” Lorna asked. “By himself, without anyone at all to love the children.” Her eyes were beginning to tear up just at the thought.
“Alasdair’s leaving is out of the question,” Winifred pronounced. “There’s always been a MacPherson behind the pulpit of Knox Presbyterian. Great-great-grandfather Hamish, and then Great-grandfather Dougal, Grandfather Seamus. Father, of course—”
“And now Alasdair stands to be the last in a long line,” Fiona finished.
Winifred gave Lorna a hard look. “I wish you’d said something sooner.”
Lorna thought about defending herself, but Winifred spoke again before she had a chance to formulate her thoughts.
“Perhaps we could tell him to quit his other involvements.”
“For heaven’s sake, Winifred,” Fiona objected. “Alasdair is a grown man. He’s not our baby brother any longer. Besides, you know how headstrong he is.”
“Well, if he doesn’t mend his ways, he’s going to lose hisjob,” Winifred pointed out. “Perhaps he’ll just have to do what we tell him.”
“I’ll give the matter some thought,” Fiona said. “Then we shall talk to him.” Winifred nodded in agreement, the matter settled as far as they were concerned.
Lorna felt relief to have the problem out of her hands, but then just as quickly she remembered her strange commission the day she had prayed. The feeling that she had been chosen to help her brother, not her competent sisters. Ah, well. That notion had probably been just been one of her flights of fancy. She was perfectly content to support any solution to Alasdair’s problems, from whatever direction it came.
The food arrived, and Winifred and Fiona began talking about other things—Winifred about the Christmas bazaar the Women’s Fellowship would be sponsoring, Fiona about her upcoming bid for the chair of the History Department at George Mason. When they were finished, the two of them rose with one accord. Lorna followed suit.
“By the way,” Winifred said, “the sitter made it official.”
“They quit nearly as quickly as we can hire them,” Fiona said grimly. “The children are just going to have to go to a day care. I can’t keep on taking time to interview and check references.”
“I’ll do it,” Lorna offered quickly. “I’ll call the paper and have them put the ad back in. Perhaps this time will be different,” she said, but not really believing it. It was hard to find competent help willing to work for any wage, much less what her brother
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