"I did," Nathan volunteered and gave a slight shrug of embarrassment. "Once, I went to a frat party in college just to impress a girl. She was in one of my classes but always hung out with the jocks, so I got one of them to invite me and then I introduced myself to her as Nate the Great. We talked for a bit and I was ready to ask her out. When I admitted that I didn't play any sports, she started flirting with the guy standing right next to me!" He laughed. "I guess it was a good thing in a way, 'cause if she had asked me what I was
great
at, I wouldn't have had a clue what to say."
Jake spun his coffee cup around and around in the bowl of his rough hands and said, "Bein' a Jake automatically gets you called Jake-the-Snake at some point in your life. Since I have a particular bad feeling toward snakes, I
really
hated that nickname. When I was in the fifth grade, my family moved to another town. I told everybody in my new school that my name was Jack. You should have seen my mama's face at the parent-teacher conference. The teacher was goin' on and on about her son, Jack Lombardi!" He slapped his knee. "Finally, Mama told her that my name was Jake and the jig was up."
Quinton nodded his head in sympathy, the spare flesh on his neck rippling like shallow water in the wind. "Well, I come from a family of big-boned people." He paused and twisted a gold ring on his right pinky. "Even as a kid, I was big. The other kids used to ask me when I was due with my quintuplets and they'd poke me in the belly. It got worse when they started calling me Quinton Five Chins in Junior High. That one really stuck." He sighed. "In high school, I tried to go by the name Quinn instead, but I never graduated from Quinton Five Chins."
"That's terrible," Savannah said softly. "Kids can be very cruel. I think your name is very dignified, Quinton."
"Downright stately," Nathan added.
"I don't have much to chime in here, folks." Bryant threw up his hands in supplication. "I've always liked my name and I try to spread it around as much as possible. It's good for my career to become a house hold name in Richmond. Gets me more appearances at the car dealerships and stuff. It also helps me raise money for my campaign to help senior citizens find housing." He straightened his tie in a pretense of importance. "And my mama just loves it when she sees my name on the TV."
"I like my name too! And I'm sure you can tell that I do my best to make sure that
everybody
knows that Trish Tyler is the name to remember when it comes to real estate!" Trish threw out her hands as though she expected a smattering of applause. Cooper thought of the hundreds of Trish Tyler real estate signs propped up on the front lawns of homes across Richmond, Trish's face plastered on each one and her name highlighted in bold, red letters. She certainly had succeeded when it came to name recognition.
Cooper realized that all the other members had said something and were now waiting for her to speak. They turned to her with looks of kind expectation. She grinned with embarrassment and said, "I probably don't have to spell out what 'Cooper' rhymes with." A few of her study members sniggered as they made the connection. "See? That's what some of the mean kids called me, but only in grade school. When I was a senior in high school, they had more to work with besides my name." She pointed at her right eye.
"Well, I think our group is filled with lovely names," Trish declared.
The group took a short break in which several members refilled their plates or their coffee cups. As Cooper sat back down at her student desk with a fresh cup of coffee, she thought about how much she was enjoying herself.
"Last discussion point for today, friends." Savannah closed her Bible and rubbed its cover affectionately. "Paul mentions the phrase 'heavenly realms' several times. What does that mean to you?"
"Here's my idea of heaven." Trish ran an acrylic nail down her lacquered hair. "All the chocolate you want with no guilt." Then, more somberly, she added, "In fact, there'd be no guilt at all. Only forgiveness."
"I think we're going to recognize some of the angels we see in heaven," Bryant stated, his white teeth flashing as he spoke. "I bet some of them have lived around us the whole time--down the street, at the next cubicle at the office, serving us cups of coffee, or bagging our groceries. A complete stranger has helped me in a time of need more than once. It was like they were put there, in my path."
"I like that idea," Nathan said.
Quinton spoke up in a soft voice. "There's no pain in heaven. And nobody's ever, ever lonely. No matter what you look like."
"I reckon there's music there too," Jake said and then cleared his throat. "A kind we've never heard before, but it's so beautiful that it fills you up inside."
Savannah picked up her white cane and waved it in front of her. "I love how Paul says that he is going to pray for us. In chapter one, verse eighteen, he says that he'll pray 'that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.' " She tossed the cane to the floor, put her hands over her heart, and smiled. "To me, that's heaven. When you see others with the eyes of your heart."
"Amen to that!" Nathan stated with feeling and took Savannah's arm.
The blind woman put her belongings in a leather tote and shouldered the bag. "Trish, can you pass out directions to your house and then let's all head to worship. They're playing our song."
As the music filled the school wing, the Sunrise members sat down together in the auditorium. Cooper was amazed by the number of people in the congregation. Surrounded by at least three hundred men, women, and teens, she was grateful to be sitting with her new friends.
"What's this?" she asked Quinton as she pointed at the large screens poised above the stage. "A PowerPoint presentation?"
"No." He laughed. "They post the song lyrics and Scripture passages up there. It helps folks follow along and keeps our eyes from being stuck in a hymnal. This way, our words flow outward and upward, not down into our books."
The service began when the band on the stage ceased their instrumental music and began playing a loud and uplifting contemporary worship song. The lyrics were projected onto the white screens and people lifted their hands into the air or clapped in time to the music. Half of the congregation swayed their hips or shoulders as they sang their hearts out. Cooper had never heard the song before and was too surprised by the rock-concert feel in the chapel to do more than stare.
"Is it always like this?" Cooper interrupted Quinton, who was singing sweetly--sounding more like a young boy than a man in his thirties. Nathan sat right behind Cooper and she couldn't help but grin over his singing, which was enthusiastic but entirely off-key.
"Hallelujah!" Quinton shouted over the voices. "Isn't it great?"
Cooper thought about his question for a moment and then realized that the people around her weren't singing mechanically as they did in some churches, but with a genuine joy she found truly moving. Allowing herself to be gathered into the arms of the music, Cooper did her best to follow along. Before she knew it, she was clapping in time to the beat.
After three or four songs, the spotlights illuminating the band fell dark and Pastor Matthews stepped forward to greet the congregation. He removed his round, silver glasses and then proceeded to clean them on his sweater vest as he made several announcements about church finances and charitable missions. He then welcomed all newcomers and led a prayer for the offering. His sermon, which focused on procrastination, was peppered with several humorous anecdotes, and Cooper felt completely engaged by his words. Though he was likely in his late sixties, he had a youthful exuberance and an openness she found appealing. He made fun of himself, cited several examples from Scripture, and then grew serious as he reminded his flock that they needed to go out into the community and make positive changes without further hesitation.
"Be a light in this world!" he commanded them and then surrendered the stage to the band.
As the final song died away, the congregation filed out to begin their Fellowship Hour in the annex adjacent to the chapel. The Sunrise Bible Study members waved at acquaintances but didn't pause on the way to their cars. They were all in a hurry to begin their discussion on what they could do to solve Brooke's murder.
Inside Cherry-O, Cooper examined the map Trish had drawn. The real estate queen lived in a very posh neighborhood off River Road, not far from Ashley's sprawling home. Cooper was very familiar with the area, as her father worked at a large private school almost across the street from Trish's exclusive development. The school's parking lots were empty and the swings tilted slightly in the breeze, but Cooper glanced at the carefully tended grounds with pride. Her father was responsible for every building, tree, bush, and blade of grass on the school's campus, and she knew that he worked extremely hard to keep the place in top form.
Turning south off River Road, Cooper pulled into a circular driveway right behind Quinton, who drove a dark blue Ford Explorer. A three-story brick monster, the house had an enormous entry with two sets of thick white columns stretching from the ground to the second floor. Through a giant second-story window set above the front doors, a chandelier the size of Cooper's kitchen table sparkled through the panes. Meticulously pruned ivy topiaries in heavy cast-iron urns flanked the doors. As she faced the polished front doors of the house, Cooper wondered if Trish's life was as perfect as it seemed from the outside. Just then, Trish opened both doors with a flourish.
"Come in!" she trilled and backed away so that everyone could enter and simultaneously
ooh
and
aah
over her house.
The group stood in the entranceway for a moment, trying to take in the bold colors, the busy patterns on pillows and window treatments, the heavy wood furniture, and the dozens of gilt-framed portraits of Trish and her family. Cooper was surprised to realize that Trish was the mother of two daughters. It seemed that Trish talked about her business all the time but had never mentioned her children in Cooper's presence.
Their hostess led them into a formal dining room with crimson walls, white trim, and a wall of mirrors of all different sizes and shapes set in gold frames. As Cooper sat down, the room's calm was erupted by the sound of frantic yipping. A pair of small, fuzzy dogs burst into the room and began dancing around Trish's legs.
"My babies!" Trish covered her dog's faces with kisses, which they returned with fervor. "Everyone, these are my darlings, Donald and Ivana."
"They're
little
things," Jake commented. "Never seen dogs like that. They mutts?"
"I should say not!" Trish bristled. "These are miniature cockapoos."
Jake laughed. "Cock-a-whats?"
"A cockapoo is a cross between a poodle and a cocker spaniel," Trish explained rather haughtily. "They're the perfect pets because they're sweet and cute and, most importantly, they don't shed."
It was quite obvious that Trish liked things to be orderly and pretty. Cooper could see through the open door opposite from her into the immaculate kitchen, which had blue-black polished granite countertops, a crystal vase filled with irises, and a selection of gleaming copper pots hanging from a ceiling rack. As Cooper examined the dining room table laden with plates of hors d'oeuvres, a bowl of spinach salad, tea sandwiches, a tomato and mozzarella quiche, and vegetable crudites, she wondered if food was ever prepared in such a pristine kitchen. Taking note of a platter of delicate pastries that were spaced precisely half an inch apart, Cooper doubted Trish had cooked their lunch, but she was certain that it had been arranged to resemble a
Southern Living
cover.
"This is quite a spread," Nathan complimented their hostess as Bryant described the dishes to Savannah.
"Oh, it was nothing. I just called a caterer," Trish answered. "
I
don't have time to mess around in the kitchen." She gestured at the heaping plates. "Shall we get started?"
Cooper looked down at the five pieces of gold-plated silverware surrounding her white china plate. There were two forks, two spoons (a teaspoon and a long, thin spoon for iced tea), and a knife.
"This is more silverware than I use in a week," she joked. Trish smiled, somehow pleased by the remark, and picked up her salad fork.
"Let's talk about the matter that's weighed on our hearts all week," Savannah began once Trish had carefully placed a selection of food upon her plate. "As most of you know, one of the elders took me to visit Wesley this week. The time he is allowed to see visitors is very short, but he told me where his spare house key is hidden and asked that I arrange for someone to care for his birds and get the mail. He has also given our group permission to go through the house." She sighed and absently pushed at a wedge of quiche on her plate. "He told me that he had no secrets from his wife, the police, or any of us and he accepted our offer to do what we can to find out what happened to Brooke."
"How's the poor guy holding up?" Bryant asked, his handsome brow creased in concern.
"I won't bend the truth," Savannah answered. "He sounded utterly defeated. He told me that without Brooke, he doesn't care what becomes of his life, but he's trying to hold it together for Caleb's sake."
Trish dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "Oh dear."
"Were you able to ask him any ... personal questions?" Quinton wondered.
Savannah folded her hands together as if considering how to reply. "Yes. According to Wesley, their marriage was strong. He and Brooke had their ups and downs like any other couple, but they loved each other and were very committed to their vows."
"There goes the jealousy motive," Jake said as he inspected the contents of the pastry tray. He stuck his fork into the center of a pecan pie the size of a yo-yo and unceremoniously dropped it on his plate.
