The wide, empty nave was dark except for the light coming in through the stained-glass windows. My footsteps had never sounded louder as I walked toward the little octagonal chapel at the back, where the Rev. Anne Fowler sat alone by the altar.
“Oh,” she said. “I guess it'll just be us tonight.”
I was the only one who'd shown up for the 5:15 service.
I would've understood if she'd apologized and said there weren't enough people to justify holding the service. But instead, Anne said, “We'll wait a few more minutes before we get started,” and then went to put on her vestments.
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