Page 49 of Happy Is On Hiatus
“There’ll be more than enough food,” Rita assured Florence and the other three women who’d taken Florence’s side on this committee.
There were always sides to one committee—those who planned, those who planned and executed, and those who talked—that is, complained.
“Lollie is in charge of ticket sales. That money needs to be turned in no later than August twentieth, so I’ll have more than enough time to finish getting all the food and decorations. We’ve organized a setup and cleanup crew. The honorariums have been approved, and gifts for them were ordered. The pastor is looking over the preliminary program, and we’re working on securing a gospel group to perform. We’re in a very good planning position heading into July, which works out well sinceVacation Bible School will be starting in a couple of weeks, and most of us will be teaching, so that’ll take up our attention.”
Thank the Lord she’d opted out of teaching this year, but she was still in charge of the daily brown-bag meals they planned to serve, so all the pressure wasn’t completely off her shoulders.
Florence—a staunch member of the “those who talked” group—rolled her eyes. She sat back in her chair with her signature burgundy lipstick slathered over her full lips and continued to grumble. “I’m just wondering if we shouldn’t have hired a professional caterer. Or even rented one of those banquet halls. Why have it here at the church, putting more work on us?”
Rita knew full well this wasn’t about Florence having more or less work to do; the woman simply didn’t do anything but run her mouth on whichever committee she chose to be on. That had always been the case, so Rita was neither surprised nor particularly irritated by this behavior. She was, however, physically and mentally tired and wanted this meeting over with as soon as possible.
“I’ve been catering events at this church for the last fifteen years,” Rita told her.
Florence didn’t bother to look at her directly. “That’s because your daddy’s the pastor.”
It wasn’t the first time that had been thrown in her face, but it did hit kinda different today. Rita tried for a steadying breath, but it came out shaky, and she cleared her throat. “That’s not news either. But this event is meant to be a fundraiser, and to that end, the trustees decided we would clear a higher profit if it was held here at the church. We have enough space in our large fellowship hall to accommodate seven hundred and fifty guests, which is considerably higher than a lot of the banquet halls in the city.”
“They’re professionals. You don’t have any professional training,” Florence continued.
“That don’t stop you from eating everything she cooks at the Sunday-afternoon fellowships. Or from taking plates of that same food home to your family for the rest of the week,” Maddie added.
Rita had to remember to buy her a thank-you gift when this was all said and done. She also imagined the look on Florence’s face when she found out Rita was opening her ownprofessionalcatering company.
“Look, I’m not only catering the event, I’m also the chairperson of this committee,” Rita said, her voice much steadier now. “We’ve discussed this issue ad nauseum, and I don’t intend to keep taking up everyone’s time going over the same points. The banquet will be held in our fellowship hall, and I’ll be catering it. If that bothers you or it’s not in line with your vision, you can take it up with the trustees and/or the pastor.”
Closing her event book, Rita stuck her pen in her bag and looked to Lollie. “Can you close us out in prayer?”
Florence needed as much Jesus as she could get at this moment, and Rita just didn’t have it in her to be any nicer to the woman. She knew people saw her differently because of who her parents were. She’d grown up with that cloud hanging over her head. But she’d proven herself and her commitment to this church years ago. She wasn’t about to sit here and do it all over again. Not with all the other things going on in her life.
After the meeting was over, she sat at the table in the small meeting room a little longer just staring at the walls. They’d been painted a subtle blue, and framed scriptures were evenly spaced. On the floor was the same dark-brown carpet that lined every office, Sunday school, and meeting room on this level of the church. She drummed her fingers on the table and thought about all the other things she needed to do before she could make it back to her house.
For weeks she’d sat in her safe haven. While she’d gotten up every day and gone about her schedule as if nothing had changed, it was always with the thought that she could hurry and get back home. Tobe behind the doors of the house that she owned, the space that offered her more comfort than any other. Today was no different. She was ready to go home.
“Hey, Rita. You okay in here?”
Turning completely around in her chair, she glanced toward the doorway to see a tall, not-so-dark, and extremely handsome guy standing there. “Oh, hey, Vance.” A member of their church who did a lot of handy work around the building, Vance Graham was someone she’d known for a couple of years now. “I’m good. Just needed a minute to gather my thoughts.”
He chuckled. “Had one of those meetings, huh? That’s why I steer clear of committees and stuff here. Just come to church on Sunday morning and mind my business the rest of the time.”
She couldn’t tell him how many times she’d considered doing the same thing. Her upbringing and the massive guilt trip she’d take herself through if she did put a stop to that dream.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind using the gifts I’ve been blessed with.” Regret circled in her gut the minute she saw his brow furrow. “I’m not accusing you of not using your gifts,” she hurriedly said.
“It’s cool. I’m not upset.” He stepped inside, and she noted his worn jeans, super-tightly fit dark-gray T-shirt, and magnificent arms. If she wasn’t mistaken, his full-time job was being a personal trainer. She couldn’t pinpoint from whom she’d heard that, but the fact had been floated around via some members of the NVB’s congregation a while back.
“But if you need to unwind, you should come down to my gym. We’ve got some great yoga classes going.”
Well, the gossip mill had been partially correct. “Your gym? You’re a personal trainer, right?”
Nodding, he came to a stop just a few steps away from her. He smelled like man—woodsy, smoky, maybe some bergamot—what didshe know? He smelled really good was all that actually mattered at the moment.
He grinned, a dimple in one cheek appearing. His head was shaved bald, and his thick beard of black hair was long but neatly trimmed. “Yeah, I do some training, but I also own the gym, so I manage all the programs there.”
Ohhhhhh, heownedthe gym.
She managed a small smile. “I apologize. I was just going on what I’d heard around here. So yoga, huh? I’ve heard that’s good for stress relief.”
He nodded. “It is, as well as flexibility.”
