I’m not sure if it’s an agreement they have with the placement service, but nine times out of ten they end up with those named Maria. Maybe it’s part of their contract. Perhaps they feel closer to God by employing someone who shares a close relation to His earthly mother’s name, though I doubt if the entire crop could claim virgin status. Either way they save the congregation some money because they don’t have to buy a bunch of new nametags every few weeks. Personally, I think it’s so they have more left over for Mary Jo’s designer shoe collection. And for the weekly new handbag, though these days it more likely goes toward Botox injections. After a shower and third change of clothes for the day, this week’s Maria escorted me to the formal living room before trudging up the winding staircase to locate Bobby. The living room – or Blue Room as Mary Jo preferred, as if her home was the White House and she the First Lady – reflected the heights of gaudy extravagance. Silver-gray paper adorned the walls while the windows were swallowed by heavy brocade gray-blue drapes.
