“It’s nothing to do with two weeks,” Christine said. “I’m not giving you notice. I’m quitting. I’m quitting now. Right this minute. I’m leaving my book on my desk and then I’m going home. I’m not going to be a party to this anymore, Mr. Wackford, I really am not. I gave my life to Jesus Christ when I was eleven years old and I’ve never regretted it. Not for a single minute. I can’t go on helping you persecute Christians the way you do.”
“I don’t persecute Christians,” Henry said. “What are you talking about? It’s the Christians who are persecuting me. Shoving their prayers down my throat. Hell, going to a school board meeting these days is like listening to an official town pronouncement that I’m not even an American citizen. One nation under God, for God’s sake.”
“It is one nation under God,” Christine said, “and I like it that way, and I’m not going to help people like you ruin it and turn this into—I don’t know what you want to turn this into. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to put this folder on your desk and then I’m going to leave and I’m not going to come back. I don’t care what you say. Get that Edna Milton woman to help you if you need help. She’s just like you. She hates God, too.”
Henry watched her back out of the room. Why was she backing out of the room? You’d think she thought he was King of England, or something equally ridiculous? She was ridiculous. He’d never seen anybody so ridiculous. He jumped out of his chair and ran over to her.
“You’re the one who’s ruining the country,” he barked at her. “You and all the people like you—superstitious, petty, stupid, racist—oh, yes, you’re all racist as Hell. You hide behind religion but what you really care about is keeping the black people out of here and out of everywhere. And don’t I know it. Religion, my eye. None of you cares any more about God than I care about butter pecan ice cream, and I’m allergic to ice cream.”
“I’m going,” Christine said.
She had left her coat lying across the top of her desk. The outer office was deserted except for one young man in a black blazer and a black T-shirt. Henry was vaguely aware that this was some kind of media look. He thought it might have been out of date.
“You’re the one who’s ruining the country,” Henry said. “Doesn’t that religion of yours teach you any responsibility? Doesn’t it teach you to abide by your obligations? You have an obligation here. You can’t just leave me in the lurch. There’s work to do.”
“It’s evil work that you’re doing,” Christine said, “and you can get somebody else to do it for you. There isn’t anything in the world that could make me stay here.”
She was out the door a second later. Henry stood watching her go, watching the door swing open and shut, listening to the sound of the street door open and shut. The man in the black blazer had put down his magazine and was looking up expectantly. Henry thought he was far too interested in what he was seeing.
“Mr. Wackford?” the young man said.
Henry gave another long look at the door. “Welcome to Snow Hill,” he said. “That’s what happens when you run your life on superstition instead of reason. The whole world goes to Hell. If we let these people win, we’ll all be back in the Dark Ages. The Dark Ages. That’s what we call the time when religion ruled the world. Come in and tell me what I can help you with.”
2
The note was waiting on the shelf of her cubby when Alice came in to work, and that was impossible, because the diner had been closed all night, and she was just opening up. She was so tired, what with staying up with Barbie half the night, and taking phone calls from everybody she knew, she almost didn’t see it. She was just putting her coat onto the hook when a breeze coming in from the back door made the note flutter, and she put her hand up to touch it. It was an ordinary note. It wasn’t anything like she’d seen in movies. There were no words cut out of magazines. It was just a plain piece of lined white notebook paper, cut in half and then folded, and the words on it said:
I saw what you did up at Annie-Vic’s.
Lyman was over on the other side of the room, fussing with the grill. He always fussed with the grill first thing in the morning. Alice put the note in her pocket and told herself there was nothing to worry about. She had been up at Annie Vic’s, yes, but she’d been alone. Somebody must have seen her go in or come out. That was a problem, a bigger one than her brain could really get around, but it was not a catastrophe. It was not the kind of thing that deserved an anonymous note. It was nothing to worry about. And the note might not even be for her. It didn’t have her name on it. She could drop it on the floor in the dining room and nobody would know who it belonged to. Maybe that was what she would do, later. Maybe she’d just let it fall next to one of Their chairs, if one of Them ever came in for a cup of coffee. They almost never did. They preferred the Starbucks out at the mall. They didn’t want coffee so much as they wanted coffee-flavored milk shakes.