‘So how’s everything?’ Father Mike interjected kindly. ‘I spoke to your dad just the other day.’
Greg frowned. ‘You did?’ While his mother had always been a regular churchgoer, he didn’t realise Jeff knew the priest that well too.
‘Yes. He sounded good, well – as good as can be expected, I suppose.’
Greg nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And how are you Greg? What can I help you with? Did you have a good Christmas? Oh, forgive my manners.’ He jumped up. ‘Can I get you coffee or water?’ he asked and Greg shook his head.
‘No thank you, I’m fine. Those donations,’ he continued, getting to the point. ‘Maria told me she’d sent a couple of boxes down to you lately. Some of Mom’s old stuff.’
Father Mike looked thoughtful. ‘Well, our donations tend to be numerous at this time of year, and there are a lot of boxes coming in, but yes, I think you’re right – I do remember something.’ He smiled. ‘Your mother’s always been a great friend of the church, so generous. Your dad too, of course.’
Greg looked at the box of items that Father Mike had just cleared off the table. ‘Do you go through all of the donations yourself? Check through them, I mean?’
‘Mostly, but not always. I have a lovely volunteer who comes in on Tuesday mornings. She often helps with the sorting and the distribution. Why?’ The priest looked at him quizzically. Then his eyes widened. ‘Oh dear, was there something amongst the donation that your mother didn’t mean for us to have? That happens a lot actually, more than you could imagine – items get mixed up, or the wrong things go into the donation pile.’
Greg quickly told him about the missing bracelet.
‘I remember the bracelet. She never took it off, as I recall.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I can see it in my mind’s eye as we speak. Lots of lovely little trinkets that tinkled as she walked.’
Greg nodded. ‘Yes, and we’re thinking it somehow got mixed up in a donation. The thing is, even though Maria insists she sent the stuff here, the bracelet somehow ended up in a charity store. You mentioned someone helps you with distribution. Do you happen to distribute donations to charity stores?’
‘Well no – the opposite actually. They often pass on clothing that doesn’t sell for whatever reason, usually because it’s in such bad condition that only the truly desperate would want it.’ He looked at Greg. ‘You’re saying the items your mother sent us ended up in a charity store? I can’t see how—’
‘Yes, a place called The Secret Closet. The reason I know is because—’
But Father Mike was shaking his head. ‘My dear boy, The Secret Closet isn’t a charity store, it’s avintagestore. Although I suppose that’s a common enough mistake … ’
Greg sat up straight. ‘You mean you know the place?’
‘Yes of course. Carole Greene’s spot. Just off Bleecker Street. I know them well. She and Holly often—’
‘You know Holly too?’ Now Greg was very excited.
‘Why yes, of course. Such a lovely girl. One of the loveliest you could meet actually.’ He looked at Greg and smiled. ‘Well, if Holly and Carole have somehow got hold of your mother’s precious bracelet, then you needn’t worry. They’ll take good care of it for you.’
Greg stood up, feeling elated. ‘The shop’s on Bleecker Street, you said?’ On the bike, Greg could be there within minutes.
‘Just off it. Three blocks down on the left coming from this direction.’
‘Are they open today, do you think?’
‘Yes, I would think so. Hannukah is over … Carole, the owner, is Jewish,’ he added by way of explanation.
‘Thank you, Father, you’ve been such a great help.’ Greg stuck his hand out. ‘I do remember seeing somewhere in the Village when I did a Google search, but for some reason I thought I was looking for a charity store.’
‘Don’t tell Carole that when you get there – she takes pride in stocking only the very finest!’ the priest joked.
Greg smiled. ‘Thanks again. I’m going to head down there now.’ He was about to turn and go when suddenly he thought of something. ‘I meant to ask, how do you know my folks? Were they part of the congregation here one time or … ’
Father Mike laughed. ‘No, I was a butcher at the A&P down the street from your grandparents’ deli, so I feel like I’ve known Cristina forever. After I got back from Korea, there were no jobs, so I signed up here.’ He winked. ‘Told everyone I had “the calling”, but the funny thing is, after I started here, Igotthe calling. Toughest job I've ever had.’
Greg decided he liked Father Mike. He was a kind man who probably had lots of interesting stories to tell. He took another glance around the little room, noting the pile of donated clothes in the box, the calendar on the wall with almost every square filled up with an activity or task, the side table covered with cans and dry goods - presumably for a food drive. Then his desk with the flashing phone messages and papers and cards piled high. ‘Do you think I could come back here someday and photograph you and your office?’
‘Sure,’ The priest was neither surprised nor daunted. ‘Anytime, just stop in, I’m usually free. Unless, of course, I'm counselling someone.’
‘Thank you, I will.’
