Eric Stern stood behind thefront desk at the Motel, looking through the newspaper, the victims of the accident were listed. Dead, one Jackson Morgan.
There would be no comeback.
There was no Jack Morgan to come, demanding his job. There was just him, Eric, the pretend Jack Morgan.
For extra safety he tossed the paper into the garbage, just in case Mr. Wagner might see it.
As Eric stood in the vestibule waiting for guests, he marvelled at fate. Surely some Hand was writing new scenes in a life that had congealed for fifteen years.
For the first time in so many years, he felt calm, easy, almost happy. He had no stress. He had no clock to punch, no deadlines to meet. He did not have to contend with a rebellious daughter and a wife who often took whatever the other side of an argument was.
Being Jack Morgan was the most pleasant life he had ever experienced.