AFTER MY HOSPITAL VISITS and Noon Mass, I settle into my office to put the finishing touches on my homily for the coming Sunday. Anna seems to have gotten over being upset over the entire issue of the article and is acting a lot more pleasant.
I’m in the middle of rewriting my conclusion—they always give me trouble—when the Rectory doorbell rings. A moment later, Anna knocks on my office door.
Peeking inside, she says, “Tom, Steve Austin from the Hoot-n-Holler is here to see you.”
I lean back in my chair. “Really? Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, he just asked if you had a few minutes.”
“Sure, send him in.”
Anna steps back and Steve walks into my office. Instead of what he usually wears when tending bar—a tight t-shirt and jeans—today he’s wearing trousers, a button-up shirt, and a l
