Crosses, plaques, and awards hung on every wall of Greg’s home office. The desk was an oak antique, the worn tartan chairs were plush, and the rear side of the two-story stone fireplace occupied one entire wall. A small fire was going on both sides, tonight, and Nathan watched the flames, waiting for Greg to finish making the drinks.
“Here you go,” Greg said, passing Nathan a soda water. He patted Nathan’s shoulder and took the chair next to Nathan’s, not the one behind the desk. He had on a blue sweater and slacks. Casual, for Greg.
“Thanks for seeing me,” Nathan said, swirling the drink and sipping at it.
“Of course, of course. You still on the mend?” Greg asked.
Nathan nodded. “Getting there, I think.”
“Good, good.” Greg crossed his legs and rested the glass on his knee. “What’s on
