The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,43

can I do for you, Hazel? Did you need to use the reference section?” She couldn’t resist the last remark.

“Oh, goodness no. I wanted to talk to you about the women’s auxiliary again. We still haven’t seen you at a meeting.”

“I know.” Eugenie steeled herself to be patient for Paul’s sake. She had to remember why she was volunteering for all these church activities. “But as I said before, I really can’t get away during the day.”

Hazel pursed her lips. “As the pastor’s wife, you’re expected to take a leadership role in the auxiliary.”

Eugenie knew there was no point in arguing, but she wasn’t going to agree to Hazel’s request either.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Eugenie said.

Hazel pursed her lips more firmly. “I would reconsider if I were you.”

Eugenie shook her head. “I’m sorry Hazel.” She didn’t offer any further explanation, just let silence fall, which was easy to do in a library. Paul had warned her that she was like a popular college freshman during sorority rush. “Everyone will want you to get involved with their pet project,” he had said. “As far as I’m concerned, you can pick and choose. The church is paying me, not you.”

Which was kind of him, Eugenie thought, but also not completely realistic. The tradition of the highly involved pastor’s wife was too deeply ingrained in southern culture to discount quite so easily. But she hadn’t expected to find herself in over her head so quickly.

Hazel crossed her arms over her chest, her pocketbook dangling from one elbow. “I would think you’d want to support your new husband as much as possible.” She cast a dismissive glance around the library. “I hardly think your little job here is worth the sacrifice of your husband’s ministry.”

Eugenie felt her cheeks redden. “Paul understands the importance of my work.”

The other woman’s eyes flashed. “So you won’t even consider coming to the meeting?”

“I don’t really have a choice, Hazel. It’s no reflection on what is, I’m sure, a very fine group of Christian women.” She resisted the urge to cross her fingers behind the height of the checkout counter.

“The steering committee won’t be happy about this.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Please do give them my regrets.” Eugenie picked up a stack of books from the counter in front of her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to catalog these new arrivals.” As a dismissal it wasn’t very subtle, but it was the only thing she could think of.

Hazel glanced at her watch. “I need to be going anyway. I have an appointment at the beauty salon.”

“Have a lovely day,” Eugenie said in her friendliest voice, but inwardly she seethed. What right did someone like Hazel Emerson think she had to come in and start telling Eugenie how to manage her life? Was this just a glimpse of her future as a minister’s wife? The thought depressed her.

“Good-bye, Eugenie,” Hazel snapped before stomping out the door.

After shed gone, Eugenie did catalog the new books, but she also started to worry. People like Hazel could make life miserable for Paul if Eugenie didn’t do as they expected. She’d been forced to humor and placate the city council for the last thirty years in order to achieve her goals for the library. The pressure on Paul, as a minister, to keep people happy must be even greater than what she had experienced. How to strike the right balance though? That was the question—one she spent the rest of the day pondering.

Camille sat on the stool behind the counter at the dress shop. Through the large plate-glass windows, she watched shoppers passing up and down the street. Most of them she recognized, although there were a few unfamiliar faces—lake people or folks from around the county who came into Sweetgum to shop. Of the people she knew, very few stopped in to see her.

Although she was only twenty-four, Camille had been running her mother’s shop since she was nineteen. She was savvy enough about the business to know that slow sales in early November did not bode well for the holiday season. She doodled on the pad of paper next to the register, trying to come up with an idea for a spectacular advertising campaign in the local newspaper that would turn the sales slump around. She’d pit her management skills against anyone, but marketing was not her strength.

Underneath the pad of paper was the course catalog for Middle Tennessee State that had arrived in the mail that morning. She