Page 124 of Robbin’ the Rich

Everyone in the room froze. My dad’s gaze flitted from face to face, but no one dared speak.

That was until Robin cleared her throat. “There has been a mistake.”

She was trying to be strong. Only I could hear the small waiver in her voice betraying her nerves.

“Is that so?” My father turned to her like a tiger circling his prey.

I had to give it to him; he really was a terrifying man when he wanted to be. Even I was scared to speak for a moment. Then I heard a voice I was not expecting.

“Pastor Nottingham,” her father said with a casual confidence I would not have expected this extremely average looking man to have.

My father turned his gaze to Mr. Sherwood looking slightly less predatory.

“It would appear our children are trying to protect each other, but really I am the one who did it.”

Every head in the office turns to him.

“Did what? What exactly is going on here?”

“When Pastor Young was here, he did unspeakable things to families. He told families to turn out their own children. Can you believe that?”

My dad sputtered for a moment, clearly thrown. “I do not share the same beliefs. I believe all are welcome.”

More like all of their money is welcome, but that was neither here nor there.

“But what does that have to do with anything?” my father asked.

“When I was helping with your accounting, I allocated a small bit of money every month for the shelter that took in my daughter’s first girlfriend after her family kicked her out at the urging of Pastor Young.”

This had my father’s attention.

“Dad–-” Robin began to protest.

“Now sweetheart, let me handle this.”

“You had no right. None at all. What you did was stealing.”

I could sense my father’s blood pressure rising, he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Maybe, but I did notice the large amount of money that is still going to Pastor Young in his retirement. It would appear the church is not as far removed from that devil as you would have others believe.”

I swear I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

“You had no right to do that. How dare you steal from the church.”

And I swear, Mr. Sherwood smirked. Who would have thought a short balding man in a sweater vest is where Robin got all her courage from.

“I wouldn’t call it stealing, more like course correcting. Do you not think a shelter that only exists because of the old pastor of this church doesn’t deserve a little extra money? I mean look around, the church isn’t exactly hurting for it. Hell, I mean this thing,” he said walking over the bizarre Fabergé egg. “Is worth, what, half a million? Surely you can help out those with less than you.”

My father’ face was bright red, he was lost in his anger. “It is my money! I decide what to do with it! Me! Not you! I am this church!”

“Oh well isn’t that interesting. I thought this was a house of God, not Mr. big pants Nottingham. Say hello to your congregants.” Mrs. Sherwood smirked at him holding up her phone. “And to think of all the wasted energy I spent trying to convince my daughter you were different. You may not be a bigot Dan, but you are still a bad man.”

I looked at her with sheer amazement. This really was a Christmas Miracle!

“Turn that off.”

And she did. My dad looked between them.