“Then you’re planning to take them down?”
“Only because the other Sunday School classes are making more, and they all want their turn.”
Charlotte turned back to the banners. “I hope all of them are as funny as these. The Star of David on the left has seven points. Did you notice? And that Buddha—” she pointed to a thin stick of a man “—looks like he’s been on the South Beach Diet.”
Analiese was minimally encouraged. “He’s probably historically correct. The fat Buddha is actually based on the folktale of a Chinese monk named P’utai, who was eternally laughing and happy, not to mention well fed.”
“And the children and the rest of us are learning these stories from you in church every Sunday.”
“It’s a very small world, and we’re all neighbors.”
If Charlotte disagreed, at least she had the grace not to say so. “I was glad to find the front door unlocked. When I was a girl…about a million years ago…I used to wish I had a quiet spot like this to come and sit.”
Analiese didn’t know Charlotte’s age. There were a thousand committed members here and many more who simply showed up on holidays. She had long ago given up trying to memorize every biography. She guessed Charlotte was only in her late forties, perhaps early fifties. Most likely well-executed surgery had given back a portion of the perfection age had stolen, so she was an attractive middle-age woman who knew how to make herself even more so. It was odd to hear her refer to herself as old, but today her shoulders drooped and her face looked drawn, as if she was trying to live up to her words.
Analiese made an attempt to crack open the invisible door between them. She dropped down beside her, making sure to leave enough room so Charlotte would feel comfortable. “You needed a place to think?”
“I was on the Council Executive Committee the year we decided to keep the building locked unless there was a service taking place, but I’ve regretted that every time I’ve wished I could slip inside, sit in a pew and stare up at the rose window. We were worried about vandalism.”
“It’s a valid concern.”
“I thought so at the time, yet here I am.” She turned to gaze at Analiese. “Because the door was open. Is there a reason?”
“There’s a memorial service in an hour. Felipe probably propped it open after he cleaned, or he didn’t bother to lock up after the florist delivered the arrangements.”
“I noticed them. Very sweet, like somebody went to an abandoned farmstead and picked everything that was blooming.”
Analiese thought just how fitting the flowers must be, then, and how Minnie’s many friends had planned it that way. “I haven’t seen the arrangements. I was just on my way up front to check and make sure everything’s set up correctly before I robe.”
“I didn’t know about a memorial service. Is it a church member?”
“Not a member, no. But a church as large as ours was needed to hold this one.”
“Somebody important, then.”
Analiese nodded. “Yes, she was important.” She paused, then plunged. “The service is for a woman named Minnie Marlborough.”
Charlotte’s expression didn’t change, but she was suddenly still, because certainly the name was familiar to her. “Minnie Marlborough died?”
“Last week.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been out of town for a while. I didn’t know. Had she been ill for long?”
Analiese couldn’t figure out how to answer that. From the moment she had seen Charlotte’s car, she had known this conversation might be necessary, although she hadn’t been sure Charlotte would remember Minnie. Now she was just as confused about the direction to take as she had been before she murmured her prayer in the parking lot.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said after a long pause. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I can tell you the truth, or I can tell you some version that’s easier to hear.”
“I remember the first time I heard you speak in our pulpit—I was overwhelmed by your honesty.” Charlotte paused, but not long enough to allow Analiese to respond. “But I was also fascinated.”
“Were you?”
“At the time you had to know you were destroying your chances of being called as our pastor, but that didn’t stop you from telling the truth, exactly the way you saw it.”
“Here I am, anyway,” Analiese said, “ten years later, and both of us completely baffled about how it happened.”
“I voted against you.”
“I assumed.”
Charlotte rubbed an eye, a gesture that was out of character for a woman who gave the impression she wouldn’t flinch under torture. “So do what you do best, and please tell me the truth.”
“Minnie never adjusted to life in town.”
Charlotte waited for more, but Analiese shrugged. “I’m sorry, it’s that simple. Her little farm, her animals? They were all she had. When they were gone, she didn’t have anything left to live for. At least that’s what her friends say.”
“You blame me for that.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m your minister. It’s not my place to blame you, Charlotte. I wasn’t even sure you’d remember her.”
“And what about the woman Analiese Wagner. Does she blame me?”
“I wish I could separate the two that easily.” Analiese turned the question around. “What about the woman Charlotte Hale? How does she feel?”
Charlotte spoke slowly, as if she were putting memories together. “Minnie Marlborough’s farm was needed for a retirement facility that would benefit hundreds of seniors and has. Her neighbors wanted to sell when they heard our terms. We thought everyone would come out ahead. The city’s richer for the taxes the facility pays. The road’s been widened and improved, so residents in the area benefited, too.”
We, Analiese knew, was Falconview Development, of which Charlotte Hale was the founder, president and CEO.
She thought carefully before she spoke, struggling to be fair. “I know you or someone at Falconview found her an apartment where she could have some of her things—”
“I knew how much she loved those animals. I got the owner to lift the restrictions on pets so she could bring the two cats she’d had the longest,” Charlotte said, although not defensively.
“And found homes for almost all the rest who were healthy. I know.”
“Did you ever see her house? Ever walk around the grounds? Every penny Minnie Marlborough had from Social Security and savings went to those animals she took in. And she was such an easy mark. Somebody’s cute little kitten started clawing the furniture and suddenly Minnie found a new pet on her doorstep. She could never say no, and everybody knew it. I was told the house was falling down around her. I doubt she ate as well as the animals she fed.”
Analiese thought carefully before she spoke. “I think the hardest decisions are the ones where we’ll reap benefits from only one of the outcomes. How can we remain objective?”
“I guess you’re saying I didn’t.”
“I’ve been told Minnie had friends who went to that house every day to help. They brought food and took animals to the vet, and helped her find homes for everything from iguanas to llamas. I’m told that for every person who took advantage of her, there was another who reached out to help. She wasn’t a hoarder. She was poor,