Bryce arrived at Houston a few minutes past noon and a middle-aged woman with hair as raven black as Dani's was there with a signboard. Her name was Elaine, wife of Eddie, and she drove Bryce to an industrial park in Sugar Land where Eddie ran his HFS head office.
They entered Eddie's well-appointed waiting room and could hear Eddie doing two things: using an exercise bike (Bryce was familiar with the sound from his times at the IBM House gym) and talking on the phone. He seemed to be arguing with someone, who was on speaker. Elaine offered coffee or iced tea and Bryce, having tasted the old Texas heat anew, asked for the latter.
While sipping, he couldn't help but listen to Eddie's conversation. The speaker sounded top-of-the-line and the woman's every word was clear: " . . . they serviced the A-C just three days ago and I checked it myself this morning. They did a good job, and the new filters look perfect. It's not an allergy, I can tell you. It's the fastest spreading cold I've ever seen."
Eddie said, "If no one's running a fever, then keep all who are willing to stay on the job, on the job. Uncle Sam didn't make his country great by sticking his head in the sand every time folks around him caught the sniffles."
"It's not just us, it's the customers too. Three out of five seem to have some sort of little bug."
"I've said it before and I'm saying it again, America didn't get powerful by letting little bugs send us to bed."
"Understood, Mr. Warfield."
"I'm bringing a friend over to Braintree this afternoon. Based on what we observe, I might give new orders. Monitor your store and the local radio. If you want to close, call my car phone or leave a message here."
"Yes, Boss."
Eddie hung up and stepped into sight through the doorway. He smiled on seeing Bryce but it was his expression just before, all downturned mouth and thousand-yard stare, that stuck in Bryce's mind. It was the look of a leader who, having made a command decision, doubted that he'd made the right decision.