A Season of Angels Page 0,19

would leave them on their assignments because he was so shorthanded. Maybe she should test her friend's theory, and have a little fun herself.

Row upon row of television screens faced her. There must have been over fifty in various sizes and shapes, all tuned to the same channel. The temptation was too much to resist.

She hesitated and laughed silently at the thought of her face showing up on all fifty screens at once. The mere suggestion was her downfall. If Mercy could ride up and down the escalator then she should be able to enjoy a few short moments of notoriety.

"This is our best model," the salesman was saying, stepping over to the wide twenty-five-inch screen. The salesman was busily showing an older couple the capabilities of the remote control when Goodness popped onto the screen.

"What's that?" The grandmotherly woman pointed to the television.

"It seems to be a . . . woman with wings," the man with her added.

"Wings?" The salesman quickly adjusted the buttons. "We had it tuned to a game show earlier. It's nothing to worry about, folks, this happens sometimes. I'll just change the channel."

"The same woman appears to be on that channel as well," the woman said. "If I didn't know better I'd say it was an . . . angel. Do you think she's trying to tell us something, Delbert?"

"She sure is," the man grumbled. "She's saying we shouldn't be buying this fancy new television when the one we've got is perfectly fine."

"Don't be ridiculous. This is the punishment you get for skipping mass last Sunday. God's sent this angel to show you the error of your ways. Then again" - she hesitated while Goodness adjusted her wings for show - "she might be telling us we should pick up some lottery tickets on our way home."

The salesman was becoming more and more agitated as he punched a variety of buttons on the remote control. "I'm sure there's been some mistake." He looked around and shouted, "Harry! I think it might be a good idea if I have the manager take a look at this."

"I've seen enough," the older man said, reaching for his wife's arm. "Let's get out of here."

"It has to do with you missing church, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be ridiculous," her husband said with annoyance.

"We are going to stop for lottery tickets, aren't we?"

"We don't do this nearly enough." Jody's mother set the pot of tea on the oak kitchen table.

"I agree," Jody said, slipping into the chair across from her mother. She didn't drop by to visit her mother as often as she had before her father's death earlier in the year. Her childhood home stirred far too many memories. Privately Jody wondered how her mother managed. Perhaps it wasn't so difficult to understand. Jody continued to live in the tiny two-bedroom house she and Jeff had purchased when she'd first learned she was pregnant with Timmy. Giving up even this small part of her life with her late husband was more than she could have borne.

"Where's Timmy this evening?" Helen Chandler wanted to know.

Jody smiled although she knew her mother didn't understand her amusement. "He's spending the night with Rick Trenton."

"I thought it was Ricky."

"They're in the fourth grade this year and suddenly Ricky is Rick. Timmy is Tim to all his friends now too. He's growing up more and more."

"I didn't think that sort of thing happened until junior high."

Jody had been amazed herself. "Kids mature much faster these days. Generally Rick spends the night with us, but his mother just had a baby and Timmy's enthralled with the little tyke. He . . . he went so far as to suggest that I remarry so he could have a brother."

"He said that, did he?"

"I don't mind telling you, Mom, it threw me for a loop. I found a letter in Timmy's binder. His class was assigned to write a letter and he opted to address his to God."

"That grandson of mine is one smart cookie. What did he have to say?"

Jody stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea with enough energy for some to slosh over the rim of the delicate china cup. "He wrote about needing a dad."

Helen Chandler grew quiet at that. Jody expected her mother to laugh or perhaps lecture, but she hadn't expected her to say nothing.

"You don't have any comment to make?" she asked, eyeing her mother speculatively.

"Of course I do, but I'm not so sure you want to hear it."

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