Courting Hope. Jenna Mindel
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care for the fleeting warmth that swirled through her at the thought. Not one bit.
He returned to the corner of her desk. “What are you working on?”
She gave him her most intimidating glare, but he stayed put. “I’m updating our website with your bio as the new pastor.”
“Where’d you get the information?”
Hope kept typing. If she ignored him, maybe he’d go away. “From your résumé.”
“Keep it short and to the point, okay?”
Hope looked up at him then. “You want to proof this?”
“No.”
“Fine.” Hope waited for him to leave.
“Okay then, good.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We should probably have a staff meeting this week. There’s a receptionist, right? And a janitor?”
“Both are part-time. Shannon Williams works a few hours a day and covers lunch hour phones, but her baby was sick yesterday. She and her husband also volunteer their time with the youth. Walt comes in the afternoon since he works another job in the morning. And Judy’s here every morning. But then, you probably already know that since she’s on the board and interviewed you. We’re a big ol’ staff of five, not including you.”
“You know everyone’s schedule better than I do. Let me know when you want to meet.”
Hope bit her lip. She’d always scheduled meetings for her previous pastor, but it wasn’t easy taking direction from Sinclair. Hope was too used to telling him no.
When they were kids, he used to egg her on to do things she knew better than to do. Like when she was fourteen and they’d jumped off the LeNaro Bridge with inner tubes to float down the river. She’d split her lip on the air stem. Hope fingered the now tiny scar. Her parents had pitched a fit because she’d needed five stitches.
The word no hung on the tip of her tongue.
“Problem?” He waited for her acquiescence.
Hope came back to the present. “Nope. I’ll let you know by the end of today.”
He finally slipped off her desk. “Good. Can I review the annual budget and the financial report for the building project?”
“I’ll email them to you.” Hope shoved a slip of paper his way. “This is your church email. I’ll also set up a shared calendar schedule that we can both access.”
“Cool.” His finger touched hers as he tried to grab the note.
Hope quickly pulled her hand back. The phone rang again, shattering the awareness that tingled through her. Answering on the second ring, she breathed easier when Sinclair walked toward his own office.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Larson, what was that?” Hope hadn’t heard a word.
While she chatted about dessert possibilities to welcome Sinclair after Wednesday night’s service, Shannon slipped into the receptionist desk. She gave Hope a wave and craned her neck to get a peek at their new pastor.
Finally off the phone, Hope jotted down her to-do list for tomorrow’s errands. She’d have Walt set up a couple of tables at the back of the sanctuary for refreshments, and she’d pick up cookies from the bakery in town. Mrs. Larson would see to the punch. They already had a supply of cups and napkins in the church kitchen.
“Wow, Hope. He’s cute.” Shannon had been trying to fix her up since they’d met. “Is he single?”
Hope shrugged. “He’s not married.”
“Girlfriend?”
“I don’t know.” Hope didn’t care to know.
Really, she didn’t.
“We’ll have to find out.” Shannon stood. “Come on, introduce me.”
Again, Hope shook her head. “Look, I grew up with him. I’m not interested, so you can forget whatever you’re thinking.”
Shannon looked at Sinclair and then at her. “Hmm. So you two have a history. This should be very interesting!”
* * *
The next day, Sinclair slumped in the kitchen after polishing off an evening snack. The house belonged to his sister, Eva, now, and she shared the place with her friend Beth. And his parents were staying through the summer. It was pretty spacious for an old farmhouse, but felt cramped. Sinclair wanted a place of his own. He needed to be by himself. After three years of living in crowded staff quarters for the orphanage school in Haiti, Sinclair longed for quiet. When things settled down, he’d look for something.
He ran his thumbnail along a groove in the old oak kitchen table where he’d eaten hundreds of meals as a kid. Meeting the congregation had not gone as planned. They seemed like a warm group of people. But after his message had landed with a wet-bag-of-cement thud, he wondered if he’d gotten his calling all wrong.
“You look tired, Sinclair. How was your first midweek service?” His mom rubbed his shoulders.
He was glad his parents hadn’t been there to witness his failure. “I’ve had better.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shrugged.
His staff didn’t take him seriously. Hope spoke to him only when necessary, and Shannon, the receptionist, acted like she knew something he didn’t. Walt, the maintenance guy, thought he was too young, and tonight he’d blown his first message delivered from the pulpit. Three days into his first week as a pastor, and the job was nothing like he’d expected.
Wednesday night services were less formal than Sunday, so he’d thought he could be more...honest. He’d definitely made an impression, but if the blank stares were any indication, not the kind he’d wanted.
Had his congregation missed the whole point of his tales of Haiti? He might have driven it home too hard that they had so much while the people he’d served in Haiti had next to nothing. He’d probably been too graphic, but folks should know the truth.
With a sigh, he confessed, “I think I shocked a few people tonight.”
Rose Marsh slid into the seat across from him. “Maybe they need to be shocked. It’s never a good thing to get too comfortable in the pew.”
He smiled at his mom. At only five foot two, she was a powerhouse of opinion who didn’t believe in beating around the bush. She didn’t stand for sulking, either. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know I am.” His mom flashed him a cocky grin. “I understand Hope Petersen works with you.”
Sinclair lifted an eyebrow. He hadn’t told anyone in his family. “How do you know?”
“Judy Graves. I ran into her at the grocery store earlier this week. How’s that going?”
He shrugged again. Hope did her job well. At the welcome reception for him after the service, people had swarmed around her. She had that effect on him, too—drawing his attention like a honeybee to its hive.
“Sinclair?” His mom had an amused look on her face.
“It’s a little rough around the edges, but we’ll work through it.”
“Maybe you should bring her to Adam and Eva’s engagement party.”
As if she’d go. “I don’t think so.”
His mom leaned forward. “She used to have quite a crush on you, you know.”
That was news to him. Hope used to laugh at his many breakups with girls and say she wouldn’t wish him on her worst enemy. “Hope? No way. I drove her nuts. Besides, Ryan might have a hard time with that. Too many memories.”
His mom grasped his hand. “It might