Dad, do we have to do this?” Mallory asked.
She looked at the gathering of strangers in the parking lot of Loretto’s Church of Saints Peter and Paul. “We don’t know anyone here, and people keep looking at us. I feel like an oddball or something. Besides, this is a Catholic church, and we’re not even Catholics.”
BJ hopped out of the Expedition and began plucking at his rear.
“It doesn’t matter,” Paul said, helping BJ adjust his clothes. “We’re here as guests. And don’t worry about not knowing anyone. That’s one of the reasons we came, remember? To meet people.”
“These pants go up my butt,” BJ complained.
Mallory rolled her eyes. Fresh out of the shower and in his junior suit and tie, the kid looked like a six-year-old mobster.
Paul checked his watch. “It’s almost eight, we better get inside.”
They climbed the double staircase that led to the entrance. The red brick church stood in a cul-de-sac on the incline of a modest hill, and its tall steeple towered over the surrounding houses. Inside, Mr. Fish greeted them near the door, initiating a round of handshakes and hellos. He led them inside, weaving through a mix of people gathered within the main chamber. They stopped at one of the right-hand pews, where a young redhead woman sat alone.
“Rebecca, mind if we join you?” Harry asked.
The woman turned, curious, and her face bloomed into an expression of surprise. Her green eyes sparkled even in the diffused light coming through the stained glass windows on the wall.
“Harry, how are you?” she asked. “And, Paul, this is a surprise. It’s good to see you again.”
Mallory’s eyes zeroed in on her father and noted how his smile widened when the two shook hands.
“Nice to see you again, too, Rebecca,” her dad replied. “You look… You look spectacular.”
Mallory cleared her throat, exaggerating the volume to regain his attention.
Her dad looked. “Oh, kids, this is Rebecca Fleming, the realtor Harry set me up with when I bought the house. She lives here in Loretto.”
“Mallory and Benjamin, right?” Rebecca asked. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Paul mentioned you’d be moving here. How is everything so far? Do you like your new home?”
“The pool is my favorite,” BJ chimed in. Not yet versed in the complex morays of social behavior, he had unzipped his fly and stuffed one hand down his pant leg to scratch his thigh.
Her dad flinched. “BJ!”
Harry gave a hearty chuckle. “Rebecca has a son about your age, Mallory,” he interjected while her dad adjusted BJ’s clothes. “Where is Tim, anyway?”
Though answering Mr. Fish, Rebecca kept her eyes on Mallory’s dad. “He’s visiting his father this weekend.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said, leaning toward Paul. “Rebecca is also divorced. A.K.A. available. You two have something in common on that front.”
Rebecca reddened. “He already knows that, Harry, but thank you.” Turning to Paul, she added, “In case you haven’t noticed, Harry’s taken it upon himself to be my personal matchmaker.”
Her dad nodded while the woman talked, clearly trying to keep his expression serious despite Mr. Fish’s elbow nudges.
“Tim should be back later this afternoon,” Rebecca said, once again speaking to Mallory. “I’m sure he’d love to show you around town and introduce you to some of the other kids. Should I tell him to stop by?”
“Sure,” Mallory answered, knowing her dad would argue the matter if she said no.
Mr. Fish clapped a hand on Paul’s back and ushered him into the pew beside Rebecca. “You two go ahead and have a seat together. I want to sit next to Mallory so I can fill her in on the high school she’ll be attending this fall.” He leaned in close and winked. “The Dean is a good friend of mine, and I can give you all the dirt there is to know about any teacher in the school.”