Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [59]
"Yes?" he said, and Willie Clayton stomped in.
"Pastor," she demanded. "What is this mess I been hearing about you withdrawing your endorsement of Clayton Funeral Homes for our church members?"
Theophilus hadn't told anyone about his intentions but the family who made the initial complaint against Clayton Funeral Homes. But nothing stayed secret for long at Greater Hope.
"You told the Bobo family that you were going to deal with me," Sister Clayton said, now leaning on his desk, trying to stick her face in his.
"Yes, I told Mrs. Bobo that I would deal with you, Sister Clayton. Everybody in this church knows good and well that the Bobos don't have any money. For the life of me, I can't imagine why you would charge them anything beyond your own costs for burying a stillborn baby, let alone refuse to bargain. They'd be paying out that fee for years."
"I offered the Bobo Family the ten percent discount that is promised every member of Greater Hope for that funeral. Plus, I threw in an extra car at no extra cost, to make sure all of them had a ride to the church and the cemetery. You know how their car don't work. Every time I drive by their house, it's sitting up on a cinder block with a car light stuck up under it."
Theophilus hated to admit it, but Sister Clayton was right about the Bobos and their raggedy car. He didn't think there was ever a time there wasn't a broken-down car sitting up on some cinder blocks in their grassless front yard. But raggedy car or not, the Bobos had the right to be treated with compassion by their own church members. For Sister Clayton to have tried to price-gouge the Bobos was just wrong. She wouldn't miss their little bit of money, not this woman who could afford to buy two fur coats to wear in a city where nobody could even remember the last time it snowed.
"Sister Willie Clayton, you do not have a right to the monopoly of the business of your church members. And I am not sending another soul your way," Theophilus said. "I learned just how outrageous your prices are when I called Mr. Butler of Butler-Caro Funeral Homes to see what he could do for the Bobos. He isn't even a member of our church, and he is doing that funeral for half the cost, even after your ten percent discount. Where is your Christian charity?
"And another thing, Sister Clayton, I simply refuse to encourage anybody in this church to buy you another Cadillac, trip to the Bahamas, or new fur coat. You need to know that I have already told the Usher Board to take the Clayton Funeral Homes church fans out of the pews."
Sister Clayton couldn't believe what she was hearing. Greater Hope's members had been patronizing Clayton Funeral Homes since her father first opened the business over forty years ago. People who were grieving didn't shop around, preferring to deal with someone they knew and trusted, so she rarely got complaints about her prices. But if Rev. Simmons started sending people to Butler-Caro, word would get around. She would not only lose Greater Hope's business, which she needed, but also the support of other pastors in the area. She couldn't afford that.
"Rev. Simmons," she said, "you'll regret this—I'm gonna see to it. I wonder how big and bad you'll be when the Triennial Conference rolls around and Greater Hope can't pay its conference fees because your offering box is suffering."
"Keep your offerings, Willie Clayton. This church doesn't need money so bad that I have to be your pimp. And even if it did, I'd rather preach to three people out of the trunk of my car, like Rev. Roscoe Alexander, than be a kept pastor."
Sister