French Silk(40)

"Our followers will be curious to know my feelings regarding Jackson's death. He died unexpectedly, violently. That's fodder for at least a dozen sermons. And who better to deliver those sermons than his widow?"

The board members glanced at one another, stupefied and speechless.

"Brother Williams wrote all Jackson's sermons. Now, he'll write mine," she said, nodding to the gentleman sitting to her left about midway down the table.

He coughed uncomfortably but said nothing.

"Gradually we'll fade out the emphasis on Jackson's murder and move into other areas. We'll take up where Jackson left off on the pornography issue because it's become so identified with the ministry. I'll continue to sing. Josh will continue to play piano. Occasionally we might bring in a guest preacher, but the reason all those folks tune in week after week is to see Jackson and me, right? He's gone. I'm not. And if you thought he preached hellfire and damnation, wait till you hear me."

They were uncomfortable with her bluntness, but none dared rebuke her. She wanted it understood from this moment forward that she was indisputably the one in charge. As Jackson's word had been law, now hers was.

"Brother Raye?"

He sprang upright. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You canceled the Cincinnati crusade. Why?"

"Well, uh, I … I assumed that with the … after Jackson…"

"Don't ever make a decision like that without consulting me. Reschedule it. We'll conduct the crusade as planned."

"But that's only two weeks away, Ariel. You need time to—"

"Reschedule it," she repeated icily.

Brother Raye furtively glanced around the table in a desperate search for support. None was offered. The others kept their eyes averted. He looked at Josh imploringly, but he was staring down at his hands, turning them this way and that as though they were alien appendages recently sprouted from his arms.

Finally Brother Raye said, "I'll reschedule it immediately, Ariel. If you feel up to it."

"By the time we get there, I will. Right now, however, I'm exhausted." She stood. The others followed suit, slowly coming to their feet with the unsure shuffling motions of boxers who'd gone down for the count and were struggling to regain their wits.

"Josh speaks for me and vice versa," she told them as she moved to the door. "However, I prefer that all questions and problems be channeled directly to me. The sooner I assume Jackson's responsibilities, the better. If any of you have a problem with that."

She opened the door and indicated with her head that they were free to walk if they didn't want to play by her rules. No one moved. They scarcely breathed as she made eye contact with each of them. Finally she took their stunned silence for assent.

Her pale face broke into an angelic smile. "Oh, I'm so glad you've all decided to stay on. That's what Jackson would have wanted and expected from you. And, it goes without saying, that's God's will, too."

She beamed another smile, then extended her hand to Josh. Dutifully, he moved to her side and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together they left the boardroom.

"That was quite a performance," Josh said as they moved through the building's exit.

"Performance?" Ariel settled against the plush interior of the limousine awaiting them at the curb.

"We're going home," Josh told the driver before closing the partition. He sat back against the deep upholstery and stared through the tinted window, trying to get a grip on his temper before addressing his stepmother.

At last he turned his head toward her. "You could have discussed it with me first."

"You sound mad, Josh. What are you mad about?"

"Don't play your games with me, Ariel. And stop batting your eyelashes like a goddamn coquette at an afternoon soiree. That innocent act doesn't wash with me. Haven't you learned that by now?"

She pursed her lips in pique. "I assume you're upset because I didn't discuss my plans with you before presenting them to the board."

"Have you totally lost your grip on reality, Ariel?" He was genuinely dumbfounded and it showed. "Do you really think you and I can continue this ministry?"

"I know I can."

"Oh, I see. Out of the goodness of your heart, you'll carry me."

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"Why should I?" Josh shot back. "You seem to have all the words you need. But do you know what any of them mean?"

That angered her, because her lack of formal education was a sore point. "You don't think I can hold this organization together?"

"No. Although I believe you've convinced yourself you can." He gave her a long assessing look. "You don't let anything stop you, do you? Not even my father's death."

Seeming unconcerned, she rolled her head around her shoulders, as if to relieve tension in her neck. "Look, Josh, Jackson is dead and there's nothing anybody can do about it. We buried him."

"With more pomp and circumstance than a coronation."

"It got the media's attention, didn't it?"

"Is that why we had to have the choir and orchestra and those f*cking, flying doves?"

"The vice president of the United States was there!" she shouted. "Are you too stupid to see what that's worth?"