Mark Schweizer - Liturgical 12 - The Cantor Wore Crinolines by Mark Schweizer Read Free Book Online Page A

and walked sadly down the aisle to Children’s Church with their heads down. Bored.
    It was almost worse than the old days when they reigned terror on which ever priest dared to call them forward during the service.
    The choir sang well though: a lovely anthem, Trust in the Lord by Dan Gawthrop and a beautiful little Mozart communion motet. The rest of the music was good. The hymns were well played and sung, and the sopranos added a descant on the last one that they’d had in their pocket for years.
    The sermon was fine. This guy was a fairly good preacher.
    He didn’t chant any of the service, but I expected that it wouldn’t be long before he’d make some changes.
    Edna kicked into her postlude, the Widor Toccata , since it was her last Sunday for a while. She always played it on her last Sunday for a while, even though she now had to don her sports bra to manage it. “Sure, it’s uncomfortable,” she told me, “but people expect it. It’s my signature tune. Now I just strap the girls down and let ‘er rip!”
     
    * * *
     
    We went over to the Ginger Cat for lunch. It was Meg’s favorite place to eat in town because they had a great chef (this I’d been told on numerous occasions), and they always had a lunch special. The restaurant sat on the northwest corner of the town square, prime real estate in St. Germaine. Next to the Ginger Cat, across Main Street was Noylene’s Beautifery: an Oasis of Beauty , and Eden Books. The Bear and Brew, serving great pizza and beer, was just a block down Main away from town. St. Barnabas church dominated the west side of the square. There were many other shops and offices lining the perimeter of Sterling Park.
    Annie Cooke, the owner of the Ginger Cat, met us when we entered. Ruby, Meg’s mom, had skipped church and gotten there early. Lucky for us. The small shop in the front of the restaurant was jammed with parishioners who all had the same idea. They were perusing the local jams and jellies, pickles and sauces, handmade quilts, gewgaws and gimcracks, that made up the inventory. Annie pointed us to the table that Ruby had staked out.
    “Good afternoon,” said Ruby, smiling when she saw us. Ruby looked like Meg, or vice-versa. An older version, sure, but the same beautiful features, delightful smile, and twinkling blue-gray eyes. Where Meg’s hair was mostly black, Ruby’s had become a lustrous silver.
    “I see you skipped church,” I said to her. “Or else you bailed out during the Children’s Moment.”
    “Nope. I skipped. Sometimes, there’s no greater joy than skipping church.”
    “A fact that Hayden well knows,” said Meg. “Although he did manage to make it today.”
    “I wanted to see the new priest,” I said.
    “And?” said Ruby.
    I shrugged. “He was fine. The sermon was good. Kimberly Walnut was awful as usual. Something about how a plastic fish was like Jesus. I wasn’t really paying attention. Then, of course, she got lost during the prayers of the people and forgot the offertory sentence.”
    “I’m sure no one noticed,” said Meg, perusing the menu. Meg always perused the menu, but neither Ruby or I knew why she bothered. It was a forgone fact that Meg would order the special, no matter what it was. She might change it a bit to suit her taste, but Meg never ordered off the menu.
    “Probably no one did notice,” I agreed.
    “Remember that time last Advent when you played the Gloria instead of the Kyrie ?” said Meg. “No one’s perfect.”
    “It was wrong in the bulletin,” I said, “but your point is well taken. I retract all disparaging comments about Kimberly Walnut. She ministers to the sick and the dying, she succors and comforts those in need. She is truly a gem among deacons. We’re lucky to have her.”
    “Are you kidding?” said Meg, incredulously. “She does none of that! She’s awful. She’s as nutty as this warm green bean salad with toasted cashews and Corsican acorns.” She tapped a page in her menu.