When Sunday Comes Again Read Online Free PDF

to appear on my television program for an interview. You are a beloved American icon, and of course, the public is very interested in hearing from you and learning how you are handling the unfortunate death of—”
    Samantha erased the message and prompted the next. “Hello, Reverend Cleaveland. This is Gideon Truman again. Your assistant just informed me that you believe I am spreading rumors about an exclusive interview. I can assure you that is not true. I have the highest respect for you and would never play such a manipulative game. I’m not sure how that got out there, but please believe that neither I nor anyone on my staff is involved. I would, however, be honored if you would allow me a few moments of your time to talk about a possible appearance on my program. Your assistant has my info. I hope to hear from you.”
    Samantha leaned back in the chair and spun toward the window. She could see a crane hoisting a steel beam up the side of the new cathedral. You can wait a little longer, pretty boy, she thought. I’ll let you talk to me when the time is right .
    The intercom buzzed, slicing through the silence. Samantha slapped the button and barked, “Yes? What is it?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Pastor Cleaveland, but Catherine Birdsong is here. She would like a brief moment with you before the staff meeting.”
    â€œTell her she can see me in three minutes, along with everyone else in the conference room.”
    â€œYes, Pastor Cleaveland,” was the timid reply.
    Catherine Birdsong, the New Testament Cathedral Chief Operations Officer, stood at Veronica’s desk in shock as she heard the line disconnect on the speaker. The wool, steel-gray suit she wore stood stiff like a suit of armor. Only her hand shook as she spoke. “Who in the hell does she think she is?” she mumbled to the air as she turned and marched out of the room.

Chapter 3
    It was ten thirty on Monday morning at New Testament Cathedral. The entire administrative staff had gathered rapidly in the building’s main conference room, just as Samantha had ordered only ten minutes earlier. Everyone scrambled for the seats that were positioned farthest from the front and center of the room.
    Men in suits, with neckties waving behind them, sprinted toward the conference room past panting, well-dressed middle-aged women, who, as they entered the room, searched frantically for any open seat. This was to be the first meeting Samantha had convened with the full staff since the untimely death of her husband.
    Nervous chatter filled the room. “Do you know what this is about?” was heard from a table near the center of the room.
    â€œHere we go. I don’t think this is going to be pretty,” said a man as he straightened his tie. “I just hope she doesn’t fire me in front of the whole room.”
    Associate Pastor Kenneth Davis sat at a table in the front. The others at his table noticed the nervousness behind the thin veneer of composure. Reverend Percy Pryce shared a table with Catherine Birdsong and Naomi Preston, the director of public relations. Naomi sat with her eyes fixed on the front of the room. Her stiff, shoulder-length hair turned like a hat on the odd occasions she looked to see who entered through the rear door.
    The room fell silent as a door in the front opened and Samantha appeared. She stood in the threshold for a moment and scanned the room. A smattering of applause began at the back of the room and slowly rolled to the front, until Samantha held up her hand, motioning them to stop immediately.
    She walked to the front of the crowd and stood firmly. “Good morning, New Testament Cathedral family.
    A jumbled chorus of “Good morning, Reverend Cleaveland,” “Good morning, Mrs. Cleaveland,” and “Good morning, Pastor Cleaveland” followed from the crowd.
    Samantha threw the room a disappointed glare and said, “I see some of you are still not