Sally and her desk were gone. Her office was empty. Inside his office, Eady was talking to a workman with his back to Klay. On his walls were dark circles and rectangles where his artwork had hung. Bubble Wrap spilled from half-filled cardboard boxes. His desk was bare. Lamps and end tables were gone.

Klay knocked on the door jam. “Spring cleaning, Vance?”

Eady looked haggard. He wore blue jeans, moccasins, and a plaid shirt. “Oh, Tom. Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Instead Klay walked to Eady’s window. It was raining. A cold winter rain. Eady dismissed the worker and closed his office door. His globe bar had not yet been packed up. “Five o’clock somewhere,” he sighed, and fixed them a pair of drinks. Klay crossed the room and sat on the old leather sofa. Eady’s wingback chair was gone. He wheeled his desk chair to the couch, handed Klay a scotch, and took a seat across from him.

“I have good news and bad news.”

“I like my good news first.”

“I have cancer.”

“Jesus.”

“Treatable.” Eady waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll get through it. We’re survivors, you and me.” He leaned forward and clinked Klay’s glass with his. “Lemonade of it is I finally get to retire. Always promised Ruth I would, then one of my wolves would bring home another terrific story, and round it would go again. Now the doctors tell me it’s this place or my wife.” He took a drink. “So, no contest at all.”

“I’m sorry, Vance.”

“It’s been a good life, Tom.”

“That bad?”

“No. It’s not over for me yet. Not by a long shot. Just time for the more important things now.” He sighed again.

They sat silently for a while. Klay assessing Eady’s appearance, taking in the idea of The Sovereign without him at its helm.

“So, what’s worse than cancer?” he said. A copy of the magazine’s current issue lay on the floor beside Klay’s boot.

Eady swallowed his whiskey and got up to retrieve the bottle.

“It’s The Sovereign that’s dying, Tom.” He poured them another round. “It’s been hemorrhaging for years while I was focused on other things. You know that, and the board has finally decided. We need to make a change, get a transfusion—”

“You’re not the reason this place is in trouble, Vance.” Everyone knew The Sovereign couldn’t manage its finances. The institution delivered the exceptional. And paid for it. At every level.