The Happy Hour Choir Read Online Free PDF Page A

recognized me.
    He had to be wondering if he’d met my evil twin a couple of nights ago. At The Fountain I never clipped my curly red hair back in a barrette, choosing instead to let it fly free. I also never wore subdued makeup or demure and neatly pressed dresses. Ginger was trying to sell him a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he knew it.
    â€œWhy don’t we come into my office where we can have a seat and where there’s a little more light?” His voice came out more pleasantly than I’d expected, and I had to give him brownie points for not losing his temper and yelling me out of the place.
    We followed him through the large all-purpose room behind the sanctuary. My eyes struggled to adjust to windows full of sunlight winking over the metal chairs against the wall, but the good Reverend Daniels didn’t share my aversion to the light.
    On the other side of the room sat his office, a tiny hole that wasn’t anywhere as tidy as I would’ve expected from his appearance. Thick books stood in knee-deep stacks around the room, and the filing cabinet was open with overstuffed manila folders leaning precariously on top. Behind his desk he had tacked a poster of the Beatles crossing Abbey Road.
    â€œHave a seat.” He took an armful of books from the metal folding chairs that faced his desk. “Sorry about the mess, but I’m still moving in. I hope to get some comfortable chairs soon.”
    â€œThat’s quite all right.” Ginger eased into a chair and held her leather Aigner purse primly over her knees. “We won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’re busy.”
    â€œNever too busy for you. It’s Miss Ginger, isn’t it?” he asked with a smile. His accent didn’t hang on the “r” like that of most West Tennesseans, but he obviously knew how to play the respect-your-elders game. “Did you come for next Sunday’s hymn numbers?”
    â€œActually, I’ve come to tell you I won’t be playing piano anymore, but I have Beulah here ready to take my place. Beulah Land, Luke. Luke, Beulah Land.”
    We shook hands then stared, each one daring the other to crack first.
    â€œBeulah Land. Like the hymn, huh?”
    I swallowed hard. Even after I’d bitched him out, he’d still managed to say my name softly and not at all the way my father used to bellow it. “Yes. Like the hymn.”
    He nodded, and I felt unreasonably grateful he hadn’t told Ginger any of the things I’d said to him. Of course, he still could.
    â€œGood. That’s settled then.” Ginger reached for the edge of his desk to stand up. “You give me those numbers, and I’ll get her started Sunday morning.”
    â€œAh, Miss Ginger, it’s not that easy. Playing the piano is a paid position.” Luke’s level gaze never left mine and told me he hadn’t forgotten a word of what I’d said to him. “Paid positions have to be advertised to everyone.”
    I snorted. The “position” paid twenty bucks a week, hardly worth all of the preparation that went into playing each Sunday.
    Luke’s eyes cut to mine, his glare pinning me to the chair even as his words came out crisply polite. “You know, the Equal Opportunity Act.”
    Oh, well played, Preacher Man.
    Ginger stared him down. I had seen that look before and was more than happy to not be on the receiving end. “Young man, we can do it your way, but I guarantee you won’t find anyone who plays better than Beulah. She’s a prodigy, you know.”
    I sat up straight. Ginger had never given me such high praise before.
    â€œWhile we’re here, Beulah can audition for you,” she continued as she used the edge of his desk to pull herself to her feet. “Give her a number, and she’ll play it. You tell her a style, and she can do it. There’s no one in this town—no one in this state—who plays better than