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The Deacon Threw Her Sweet Tea at the Potluck, Then the Count Sheet Showed His Own Initials

"A thief in this room — right here." Deacon Boyd says it loud enough for the whole fellowship hall to hear, and then he throws Marla's glass of sweet tea across her face.

Marla has counted the offering at this church for six years without a single incident. Now her name is on the membership roll next to the word thief, and Boyd wants the board to vote her off the count rotation Wednesday night.

She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand and says nothing louder than: "That glass was mine." Then she sets her folder on the folding chair beside her, the way she always does, and stays at the table. Six years of quiet Sundays, and one deacon decides all of it was a cover.

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