Her best friend, Reverend Marianne Maculyea, was standing on the sidewalk, grinning at her. “Hey,” she said when Joanna opened the window. “Your eyes were open, but you were a million miles away.” “I was,” Joanna conceded. “It’s been a tough couple of days.” “You are going to the gala tonight,” Marianne said, “aren’t you?” “How’d you know that?” “A little bird told me. One of our parishioners bought tickets and now can’t attend, so she gave her tickets to Jeff and me. I called out to the house, hoping to hire Jenny to come babysit, only to be told that she’s already taken.” “Sorry,” Joanna said. “Did you find someone else?” “Yes, Jeff called one of the ladies from church. Is Butch really going to wear a tux?” Joanna nodded. “My mother would wring his neck if he didn’t.” “I told Jeff that since he doesn’t own a tux and since the invitation says ‘black tie optional,’ he should take them at their word and do optional. Is there assigned seating?”
