Once, while I was doing a crossword beside his bed, a man in a dark suit appeared in the doorway.
Nathan’s face changed immediately.
“What do you want?”
The man held up a folder.
“Your signature.”
The man glanced at my coffee, then at the crossword book between us.
Nathan took the papers without introducing us.
The man glanced at my coffee, then at the crossword book between us.
For one second, something hard crossed his face.
“This is Eric,” Nathan said. “He handles my paperwork.”
Eric gave me a restrained nod.
I remember thinking Nathan treated him like an employee who had stayed too long.
Then Nathan dismissed him without another word.
I remember thinking Nathan treated him like an employee who had stayed too long.
One rainy evening, Nathan reached for my hand.
“I have one last wish.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
My mother had raised me alone.
