Mrs. Miracle Page 0,11

services than she could count. Over the years she'd done it all and more. Her days of volunteering were over. Some might say she was resting on her laurels, and she'd let them.

The last thing she wanted or needed was to direct a group of loud, ungrateful schoolchildren. That was a task for the young, someone with more patience than she. Children, even her niece's two girls, were more of a handful than she could take, other than in small doses.

Never having borne children of her own, Harriett fawned over Jayne, her only sister's child. She didn't see Jayne as often as she would have liked, but then young people didn't respect their elders the way they should these days.

Ever since Jayne had started working at that travel agency with...Oh dear, she forgot the woman's name now. She'd met her once or twice. Reba, that was it. Reba Maxwell. Since Jayne had started working with Reba, she hadn't seen near enough of her, or Suzie and Cindy. The five-and seven-year-olds were as close to having grandchildren as Harriett was likely to get.

The others in the Martha and Mary Circle were busy discussing Milly and Joe's move. A low buzz filled the room as speculation arose as to who would assume the director's role for the Christmas program. Finding someone, anyone, at this late date would be difficult.

"Sally couldn't possibly do it," Ruth Darling was telling Joanne. "She's started back to college."

"Oh, dear, you're right."

"What about Lillian Munson?"

"She and Larry have already made vacation plans for the holidays," someone responded.

Harriett waited until the possibilities were exhausted and a pregnant pause followed. "I know who could do it," she said. Every eye turned to her. She waited until she had the group's attention. This was almost as good as if she were volunteering herself. "My niece."

"Jayne?"

"I'll talk to her myself," Harriett promised. "I'm sure she'd love the opportunity to step in at the last minute like this. Jayne's the type of woman who thrives on a challenge."

"But I thought she just started a new job." Ruth, of all people, looked skeptically toward Harriett.

"That shouldn't be any problem," Harriett returned confidently. "I know my niece. She's going to leap at the chance to help out like this. She's a lot like me, you know. A lot like me."

Chapter 5

Some folks wear their halos much too tight.

- Mrs. Miracle

"You did what?"

Reba Maxwell watched as her friend Jayne Preston vaulted upright out of her chair, sending it shooting backward into the filing cabinet. Jayne's face reflected her outrage.

"Aunt Harriett, how could you possibly volunteer me?..." She clamped her mouth shut. Apparently the news didn't get better, because Jayne leaned against the poster of Mickey Mouse, arms extended, inviting everyone who entered the Way to Go Travel Agency to explore Disney World.

Reba had heard the stories about Jayne's aunt from the time she'd hired her latest employee. Apparently Auntie was a holier-than-thou type. Personally, Reba got a chuckle hearing about Jayne's infamous aunt. She felt more at home attending church services when she realized there were others beside herself whose lives weren't in shipshape order. According to Jayne, her aunt Harriett had been a thorn in her side most of her life. Reba could hardly wait to hear what the woman had done this time.

Reba had hired Jayne a few months back. She knew her from church, but only by sight, not by name. Her own attendance had been sporadic at best, although she enjoyed Pastor Lovelace's sermons.

After breaking off the relationship with her sister, Reba had avoided church. She wasn't sure what had prompted her to attend at all. Habit, she suspected. Her mother faithfully observed the Lord's day, and both Reba and her sister had tagged along. While in high school, Reba had gotten involved in the church youth group and played on the church volleyball team. The summer between high school and college she'd served as a camp counselor, and she remembered those times fondly.

As an adult, she found herself feeling restless and bored Sunday mornings, so she'd begun to stop by the local community church. She didn't go often. Every time she was tempted to become more involved, the pastor would preach some stirring message about forgiveness. It stopped her cold.

Few people understood that some wrongs could never be forgiven. Or righted. This was a sermon she didn't want to hear. A message she chose to ignore. It'd taken her the better part of four months to return after one