Helen adjusted the clear oxygen tube by Margaret’s cheek.

“Wade left a folder in your rectory kitchen an hour ago.

He said you need to read page two before tomorrow morning.”

“Did Wade tell you what was inside?” I asked.

“Arthur left a voicemail for the hospital administrator at five past five,” Helen said, adjusting the oxygen flow.

“He said the church board would audit every dollar of the hospital endowment if the pastor kept spending his evenings in patient rooms.”

“I’ve been visiting hospital patients in Oakridge for twenty-three years,” I said.