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“Hey, I happen to know of another hottie a few blocks down,” Grace chimed in.
I nodded toward the building behind it. “I’m living in that garage apartment right now with one of them, since my condo got trashed and people want to kill me.”
Matthew sighed and Grace squeezed my shoulder that time.
“My hottie’s working on that, though,” she said. “They’ll figure it out.”
“So, what is the story on that again?” Matthew asked as we pulled up to the diner.
“Oh, let’s get settled in first,” Hope said, pushing her door open. “This is a Reverend McMasters clusterfuck, excuse my French, and you need to get comfortable.”
We filled him in on all the lovely things regarding our father. Well... not truly all. Hope and Grace hinted at some of what went on with them versus me, but mostly we stuck to topics like our mama, Nanny Rae, the church, and what we’d found after the reverend died—the apparent money laundering and the hidden accounting records, which led us to find out about his existence.
“So, you’re saying that he ran the mob’s money through the church I’ve inherited,” Matthew said slowly. “And everything he sent my mother over the years was money he skimmed off of that.”
Grace took a large spoonful of nearly melted chocolate ice cream, nodding, and Hope pointed at him. “That’s the skinny of it, yep.”
He looked at me. “And... why the hell would I want to have anything to do with that?”
I tilted my head toward the door. “Let’s head over there before I answer that.”
Truth be told, I had no answer for that. Literally none.
I’d set my childhood home on fire because I wanted no part of my father’s legacy, so who the hell was I to convince someone else to take on his tainted church?
When we arrived, we all got out of the Jeep and just stood in the empty parking lot before the massive oak doors for a moment, the imposing white building looming in front of us.
“It’s big,” Matthew said.
“Overcompensating,” Hope mumbled before Grace elbowed her.
He glanced around. “So, it’s been closed, you said, since—”
“Since my attack,” I said. “Yeah. After he died, I had temporary pastors rotating through for a bit, but then we found the illegal activity and the police got involved, then I was in the hospital—it just got to be too much.”
He let out a long breath. “Is the common thought to get it going again?”
“There is no common thought,” Grace said, rubbing her lower back. She gestured for me to unlock the doors, and I pulled a set of keys from my bag. “It’s a building, Matthew. Without a purpose and a vision, it’s just walls and a roof.”
“Walls that you own,” I said, unlocking the doors and opening them for the first time since I’d been jumped a few feet from that very spot. My hands shook as I turned the knob. My life, my choices, and my future had changed in that very spot. Forever. It felt like much longer than a couple of months ago. “So, it’s up to you what the vision will be.”
A mixed sense of sadness and homesickness washed over me. It had been my home for so long. Working alongside my father when I thought he was a kind and God-fearing man. I’d loved my job.
I pointed ahead at the sanctuary. “It’s not huge, but it’s nice.” I nodded toward the adjoining hallway. “Offices are down there, as well as a conference room.”
I walked with him to look at everything, leaving Grace and Hope in the sanctuary. They seemed to need something there—closure, maybe. My stomach was in my throat when we reached my old office. There were still personal things in there. Pictures and a dead plant and my favorite yellow coffee mug. Like it had all been waiting for me.
I grabbed the mug and stacked the framed photos. “Need to do a little cleanup still,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“What’s their story with him?” Matthew asked, nodding his head back toward where we’d left Grace and Hope.
I shrugged with a little grimace. “They had their own hell with Dad. Different childhood altogether. We’ll—I’ll have to tell you about it one night.”
He nodded, looking around. “Seems I have a lot to think about,” he said. “I see why you wanted me to see it before making a decision.” He met my gaze. “There’s potential.”
I wasn’t really sure what that potential was or what that meant overall, but it sounded like there might be a hint of a plan other than walking away from it. For some reason, that was comforting.
“And what about you?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
