Thirty
SINCE SHE’S AN OLD friend of Chad Hudson, Gladys offers to come with me to his office. We arrive a little before 3 p.m.
I start to knock on the door, but Gladys pushes in and calls, “Hey!”
The door to the inner office flies open. “Gladys,” says the man about my age who strides into the outer office. He gives her a hug, then extends his hand to me.
“Chad Hudson,” he says, introducing himself. His firm handshake and winning smile are those of a politician. This is not surprising since much of his work no doubt involves maneuvering in the highly political world of modern academia.
“Father Tom Greer,” I say. “Thanks so much for helping out with this.”
“Well, Gladys is a dear old friend of Richard’s and mine,” he says with a smile. Looking at her, he says. “We had lots of good time
