Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [65]
"Some of that fine cognac you have stashed away would be perfect about now."
Willie Clayton smiled and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out her best glasses and best liquor for Bishop Caruthers.
Otis swirled the liquor around and then inhaled the fragrance of it before he sipped it. "Sister Clayton, you sure outdid yourself on this meal," he said. "Pour a little more of that good stuff in this glass for your bishop."
He then clinked glasses with Willie's son, Cleotis.
Cleotis had spent the meal outlining his plans for the new funeral home in Richmond, Virginia, which would have an inaugural gala in August during the Gospel United Church's Triennial Conference. Rather than throw a party, Cleotis had come up with a scheme to open the new funeral home to the visiting clergymen at the conference as sort of a club, where they would be free to partake of the vices, such as smoking, drinking, and women, that many liked to indulge in away from home but couldn't pursue publicly in Richmond with their church members and superiors so close at hand.
A stiff admission fee plus hefty charges for services would yield a tidy profit, to be shared by Cleotis, who would use it to finance the funeral home, and by Bishop Caruthers, as well as, to a lesser extent, Marcel and Sonny, who were to recruit patrons for the club. Among the thousands of pastors and bishops in attendance, surely at least several hundred would be willing to pay for the club's services and would be trustworthy enough not to blow the whistle.
The plan was risky, Marcel knew, but it was brilliant, in a perverse way. Looking around the table at his co-conspirators, he thought of the old saying, "The devil always busy in church." It seemed especially apt to him tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
SISTER SIMMONS, I SURE DO WANNA THANK YOU for making all these pretty clothes for my little grandbaby. Chile, she would've been almost naked without them."
Essie put the box of newly made baby clothes in the woman's arms, smiling at her and wishing she wouldn't carry on over her so. Made her uncomfortable.
"Folks keep saying how you can really sew. But Lawd ha' mercy! Lawd, I think you liked to kick the machine in two when you made these clothings."
"I only made two of the dresses. Mrs. Coral Thomas made the rest. I think you should call her and thank her, too. I know she would appreciate hearing from you."
"Naw. Don't need to do all that. Just as happy to talk to my first lady. Lawd, what my folks gone say when they's find out that my pastor's wife made all these here chirren's clothings for my grandbaby."
Essie had to work real hard not to let this woman hear her sigh out loud. Some church members questioned whether it was even proper for the First Lady to start a Sewing Club, but Essie believed that it was doing God's work to make beautiful baby and maternity clothes for unwed mothers and women down on their luck. Eventually she planned to hold classes to teach the women to sew themselves. The Greater Hope Sewing Club was a great necessity in the Negro community, even if some of the women only came to church when they needed something: "Money to turn my lights on." "Food to tide me over to payday." "Change to catch the bus to the doctor." And on and on.
And now, for this one to refuse to call Mrs. Thomas and thank her was almost an insult. Part of the reason, Essie knew, was that she liked getting "special attention" from the First Lady, but part of it was embarrassment, too—shame at accepting charity from a church member she thought of as her equal, one who had the same standing in the church. She sighed. Being a first lady took a lot of gut-level thinking, as well as patience. It carried a heavy responsibility because it was a ministry in itself.
Stifling her annoyance, Essie opened the front door, hoping the woman wouldn't gush anymore. But she wasn't quite through: "Sister Simmons, I just have to thank you one more, no, two more times. Thank you—Thank you. Don't know how I would have clothed my grandbaby without