Another man who has been unfaithful, how utterly shocking, Astor would have grumbled it aloud if he had not known it would be unacceptable of him. Instead, he let his mind drift. Berkley would be in soon, back from her work with the choir. They adored her, the children, the sisters, the whole damn town. It was no wonder why with the long, soft waves of hair that fell over her back or the mole on her right cheek. She might have been a saint; Astor would not have been surprised to hear it. It wasn't until Astor realized he had entirely forgotten the man sitting across from him in the confession booth that he forced out a, "Twenty Hail Mary's and three days of fasting. Your wife must be made aware of your unfaithfulness. I pray God will illuminate your way."

With that, Astor pushed himself out of the booth and into the humid warmth of the church. He was accosted by a few mothers, all speaking about some Christmas celebration. Distracted by the sight of Berkley standing near the altar passing out loaves of bread to the little ones, Astor gave a brief, "Yes, of course. A wonderful plan," and rushed off to approach Berkley.

"Miss Berkley, you were wonderful during the sermon," Astor praised, coming to stand by her side and smile to the side at her. Was it too late to beg the bishop to permit him to become a pastor instead? Too late to make Berkley his? The moment of eye contact was interrupted as a little boy tugged on Astor's hand with a wide grin and asked for another loaf of the bread.

"Why do you not ask our chef here?" Astor asked, bending down to scoop up the little boy and present him to Berkley, "Say, please, now, Matthew."