The Happy Hour Choir Read Online Free PDF Page B

having to play high church hymns every Sunday for the rest of my life. My stomach roiled.
    â€œC’mon, Beulah Lou, it’s not the end of the world.” But Ginger’s tone of voice told me she knew he’d just sucked the life out of me.
    I stepped down from the choir loft where the piano sat, and she gripped my hand. “You did a great job. I feel so much better knowing you’ll be taking care of County Line.”
    â€œGinger, I still don’t think this is a good idea. Maybe County Line doesn’t want me to take care of them.”
    Luke appeared and handed me a copy of the bulletin as well as pressing one of the blue hymnals into my arms. “I’m sure Miss Ginger can show you everything you need to know. But remember what I said about ad-libbing. This job isn’t all about you.”
    His barb stung, but I couldn’t keep from looking up to meet his gaze. Was he making this demand because he knew about my piano playing at The Fountain, or did he have another agenda?
    I wanted to ask him if the job was all about him, but I couldn’t embarrass Ginger like that. Instead, I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. We walked down the center aisle, our shoes sinking into deep burgundy carpet that felt as though someone had put new carpet over the old instead of taking the time to rip up the worn-out bottom layer. Disapproval radiated from Ginger’s stiff carriage, and I looked over to see her lips pursed. She herself had never been above embellishing the songs on the written page, particularly between verses.
    Once outside, Ginger extended her hand for the keys. I hadn’t proven myself worthy after all. I hesitated only a moment before placing them gently in her palm and reasserting the natural order of things. I eased around the hood and plopped back into the passenger seat, my seat. She lowered herself into the Caddy with a grunt, then sat as tall and straight as her osteoporosis-humped spine would allow. She threw out sharp elbows as she moved the gear shift on the side of the massive steering wheel. Something about the determination in her profile reminded me of the day she rescued me from my mother. Today, she had tossed me into the lion’s den.
    I crossed my arms over my modest sundress. Why hadn’t he said no? He knew who I really was and still he’d gone along with Ginger. It made absolutely no sense.
    Because you expected him to judge you based on what he saw the other night or at the very least to call you out.
    But he didn’t.
    No, Luke Daniels wasn’t a man to call out your sins in front of the whole congregation. I shivered at the realization that he might be waiting for another time to resume our argument.
    Oh, well. I’d agreed to take the job. He’d be the one to decide if I kept it, and I’d seen a man with buttons to push underneath that unflappable exterior.

Chapter 4
    O f course I waited until Saturday afternoon to look at the hymns Luke wanted me to play. I dutifully plunked through each of them until I came to the last one, the invitation.
    â€œHey, Ginger, could you take a look at this?”
    She hobbled into the room and leaned over my shoulder, squinting to read the hymn, as the familiar scent of Emeraude washed over me. “Never heard of it.”
    â€œThere are familiar songs in the book, and he comes up with this?”
    â€œAnd it’s in three-two time. That’s going to be fun. Good luck.” She hobbled toward the kitchen before I could ask for guidance.
    â€œSome piano teacher you are!” I yelled.
    â€œThe student has surpassed the master!” she hollered back.
    â€œSurpassed the master, my ass. The teacher doesn’t know how to play this song,” I muttered.
    â€œQuit grumbling and get to playing! And quit cussing!”
    I played through the crazy three-two song until I felt ready, but I had a feeling it was going to be a train wreck. What was that man up to and why