Rom-Com Collection

“We’re at, let’s see, now, Exodus, chapter four, verse twenty-five. Go ahead, Faith,” Mrs. Kennedy said.

“Thanks, Mrs. Kennedy,” Faith said, looking at her Bible. “Um...okay, here we are. ‘Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son—oh, crikey, are you kidding me?—and cast it at his feet, and said, ‘Surely a bloody husband art thou to me.’ Am I in the right chapter?” Horrified, she glanced around at the other women.

“Perfect!” Cathy said. “Shall we discuss?”

“Was the baby crying?” Carol asked. “You slice off his little foreskin with a rock and throw it on the ground, I want to know what the baby’s doing.”

“Might not have been a baby,” Lena Smits observed. “Sometimes those boys were fifteen, sixteen years old when this happened.”

“I doubt it,” Mrs. Corners said. “My grandson won’t even let his mother hug him. I doubt he’d let anyone circumcise him with a rock.”

“I doubt it, too,” Faith said, suppressing a dry heave. Surely, God would see how selfless she was being—senior citizen matchmaking and Bible Study rolled into one—and reward her with not only a pleasant stepmother, but also a nice husband and several cute babies. Any time now, Big Guy, she thought.

And speaking of marriage...the last time Faith had been in Trinity Lutheran’s basement, she’d been wearing a wedding dress.

Well. No point in crying over spilled champagne. She wasn’t here to relive her aborted wedding day. She was here to pick up women.

Cathy Kennedy, sure. She’d been widowed a long time. Janet Borjeson was also single, though Honor had made disapproving noises when Faith had mentioned her. But still. She noted their names in the margin of the Book of Exodus.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Goggy asked.

Faith jumped. “Um, about the circumcision?” And really. Was there something wrong with Let the little children come to me?

Goggy frowned. “No, honey. Barb’s thinking about a breast reduction. She’s had back pain for years.” Barb nodded in agreement.

First foreskins, now boobs. “Go for it. I hear you’ll be really perky afterward.”

“Exactly,” Barb said. “Thanks, Faith. You’re a doll, you know that?” She smiled. “You know, my grandson is single, honey. Shall I give him your number?”

Faith suppressed a shudder. Barb’s grandson had escorted her in, a living cliché for serial killer—shuffling feet, thinning hair and the creepy, unblinking gaze of Mark Zuckerberg. “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but, no. I, uh...no, thank you.”

“She’s still heartbroken over Jeremy Lyon,” Carol Robinson announced.

“No, I’m not,” Faith answered. “We’re friends.”

“How could you get over him?” Cathy said. “All that and a doctor, too. Did you know he actually had me laughing during my annual you-know-what?”

The topic switched to Jeremy’s gentle hands, and then to the new sneakers Carol had bought at seventy percent off during her trip to the outlets.

After an hour or so, which seemed to be spent discussing ungrateful grandchildren and knee replacements, and not Moses in the desert, Bible Study finally broke up. “This must bring back terrible memories for you,” Carol said. “This was the exact spot where Jeremy broke up with you, isn’t it?”

“It is, Mrs. Robinson. Thanks for bringing it up.” She kept her eye on Cathy, hoping to casually mention Dad.

“You poor thing! It must’ve been horrible! Did you really have no idea?”

“I didn’t. Big surprise, right? How about that Zipporah, huh? Interesting woman.”

Carol would not be deterred. “I understand you not wanting to date Bobby McIntosh, but you are looking for a husband, aren’t you? Your grandmother said you are.”

“No, no. Not really. Well...sort of, but, no.” Faith shot her grandmother a look, but Goggy was busy discussing the delicacy of Norine Pletts’s lemon bars and making the argument that pastries that good could only be from Lorelei’s Sunrise Bakery while Norine simply smiled in enigmatic silence. And dang it! Cathy Kennedy had just walked out the door.

“Well, my son’s brother-in-law is single. You want his number? Want me to have him call you? He has a glandular problem, so he sweats a lot, but he’s very nice. So I’ll tell him to call you. Good! Okay, bye.”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Rob—” But Carol was gone, power-walking efficiently away.

Faith approached Goggy, who was still drilling Norine about her baking techniques. “Well, if you didn’t use baking powder, Norine, then how are they so flaky? Answer me that.”

“Family recipe,” Norine said, smiling at Faith.

“Goggy? I’m gonna start unloading the car, okay? See you when you’re done here. But take your time.”

Goggy’s face took on a tragic expression as she turned to her fellow Lutherans. “Oh. That’s right. She’s leaving me, you know. She’s...moving out. She could’ve stayed with us, but, no, these young people, they all need their space.” She sighed mournfully, invoking a Greek chorus of disapproving murmurs.

“Bye, ladies! Thank you for letting me sit in.” The disapproval turned to hugs and pats and admonitions to watch herself crossing the street and to lock her doors at night so her throat wouldn’t be slit.

She made her way out of the church basement and blinked in the bright sun.

It was one of those perfect, late-September afternoons, clear and cool, the air tart with the smell of changing leaves and pumpkin soup from the little lunch place down the square. A line of preschoolers, all holding onto (or tied to) a rope, made their way across the street. It was a Wednesday, and while a few folks wandered up and down the street, peering into the windows of Presque Antiques and Unique Boutique, it was mostly quiet.

Two days ago, Faith had asked Honor if she knew of any apartments that might be available. Five seconds later, Honor had Sharon Wiles on the phone. Not only was there an apartment available, it was the model, the only one in the building still not rented and furnished, when would Faith like to move in? Faith had to hand it to her; Honor knew everything and everyone in this town.

In the back of the car were two suitcases, a few boxes of miscellaneous kitchen stuff Goggy insisted she couldn’t live without, and Blue, sitting up, disgusting tennis ball in his mouth, head tilted as if trying to use mind control so she’d throw him the ball.

“Hi, sweetie pooch!” Faith said. “Do you love your ball? Is it so slimy and delicious? It is?” Blue chuffed agreeably, wagging his tail. Sharon Wiles hadn’t been crazy about the idea of Blue, but she couldn’t deny that he was beautiful, well behaved and, yes, technically a therapy dog. Hey. It got him into restaurants.

Faith heaved a box out of the back and made her way over to the Opera House, the dog on her heels. Her new domicile was very conveniently located just off the square and directly across from Lorelei’s Sunrise Bakery. Also, there was a new chocolatier that Faith very much wanted to support. But first, she’d settle in, put a set of new sheets on the bed, make some coffee, unpack her clothes. Goggy would be coming over, too; she wanted to make sure the new apartment was clean enough.

For a second, Faith pictured her mom helping her move. In Faith’s mind, Connie Holland had aged beautifully, wore jeans and a T-shirt and Converse sneakers. They’d laugh and rearrange the furniture, something Mom had loved to do. Then they’d get some cookies from Lorelei’s and just talk. Maybe about Jeremy. Faith had wondered a thousand times if Mom would’ve been able to tell.

And all that might’ve been possible, Faith reminded herself, if it hadn’t been for her own self.

“Come on, Blue,” Faith said, opening the door. Up the wide staircase to the third floor, her dog following, ball in mouth. Her apartment was 3A, which overlooked Lorelei’s. Thank you, Jesus, she’d wake up to the smell of bread. She shifted the box and fumbled in her pocket for the keys.

The door to 3C opened, and there stood Levi Cooper in uniform. His forehead crinkled in a frown. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Blue leaped over to Chief Grouchy and dropped the ball. When Levi didn’t understand, the dog picked the ball up again and dropped it. Repeated, not caring that Levi was staring at Faith like a python eyeing a mouse. Whatever little bonding nanosecond they’d had at the shooting range was obviously a figment of her imagination.

“Levi. What a lovely surprise. Are we neighbors?” Faith kept her tone bright and chirpy, but a blush was prickling its way up her chest. Granted, housing options were limited—the Opera House was the only apartment building in town, but come on.

“Are you moving in?” Levi asked.

“You can tell that? It’s astonishing. How did you know? Here, hold this.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just shoved the box at him.

“You’re moving in.”

“It’s like you’re psychic. Thrilling, really. You should stop scowling. You’ll need Botox before you know it.”

Blue was still dropping and redropping the ball, trying to clue in the dopey human. Faith had the door open now and reclaimed the box. “See you around, neighbor.”