The man of the moment nodded. “I agree with the legacy thing. I feel like I have a duty to shepherd this church, so that when my little boy is my age, he’ll be able to look around him and be proud of everything we did. So I vote the full slate.” Geoffrey Burns crossed his arms over his camel-hair topcoat and grinned like a lawyer tossing a winning piece of evidence in front of opposing counsel.

“Now, wait just a minute,” Robert Corlew began, pointing a blunt finger at the younger man.

“No.” Clare held up her hand. “Robert, I empathize with your concerns about cost. And heaven knows, as the only contractor among us, you have the best sense of what the bottom line will be. But we can’t keep going round and round on this thing. If the whole board can’t agree to accept the vote and move onward, I’m going to throw the question open to a vote by the congregation.”

Mrs. Marshall pursed her lips. “If we present the congregation a divided face, we’ll have considerably more trouble getting one hundred percent participation when it comes time to raise the money. If they think some of us don’t want the project to go ahead, it will encourage those who feel wishy-washy about it to sit on their wallets.”

“And while we’re talking about fund-raising,” Geoff Burns said, “let’s consider the selling angle.” He held up his hands to make a frame. “Donate generously so that American artisans can handcraft a living legacy for your grandchildren’s children.” He shifted in his pew and made another frame. “Or, donate generously so that Baines Roofing and Plumbing can stop the leak in the roof.”

“He’s got a point, Rob,” Terry said. “Everybody loves giving money for a new gym. Nobody wants to pay for a boiler.”

“Maybe we could have donors’ names etched into the slate,” Norm Madsen mused.