AFTER THE VIGIL MASS, I’m greeting the departing parishioners when Deacon Derek walks up with a woman in her sixties, very attractive for her age, with blond hair and blue eyes.
“You must be Mrs. Roderick,,” I say with a smile, offering her my hand.
“Oh, Father, please call me Linda,” she says, giving me a hug. “I’m just so happy to meet you, finally. Derek has told me so much about you.”
I want to say the same thing, but the fact of the matter is I know very little about her.
“I was telling Linda,” Derek says, “that Helen is cooking tonight.”
“Yes, she is, and you’re both in for a real treat. She’s making some of her specialties and my favorites.”
“So, your fiance is Chief of Police and an excellent cook?” Linda says. “I can hardly wait to meet her.”
“Well, let’s not wait any longe
