“George Benson came from the firm-handshake-shows-them-you’re-a-man school of thought. “Good sermon today, Reverend,” George murmured. Mr. Benson lumbered past, and Seth flexed his fingers in an attempt to get circulation back. He reached for the hand of the woman behind George and shivered. Did Mrs. Collinski stick her hand in a bucket of ice before she came to church? Rupert Brown’s beefy palm never failed to offer up clammy sweat. And Seth had seen little Leslie Peterson swipe a h...and across her runny nose before she took his hand. Ah, the hazards of the reception line. He wouldn’t give up the moment, though. Often these short exchanges were the only time he spoke to many in his congregation. A finger jabbed into his shoulder. He turned to find Meredith Vining behind him, with her arms folded. “Ouch,” he said. Meredith’s expression didn’t lighten one bit.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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