"How did he hold everything together?"
"He had the presence. The charisma."
"Like a fascist dictator,"
Glen pauses, as though seeing or knowing something for the first time. "You're right. Why didn't I see that?"
"Because you were too busy coping."
"Doug had us all in his thrall."
"I imagine he throve on it."
"But so did we", says Glen. "Only the women seemed immune. Maureen, Sarah, Jennifer. And Sheila. She's Michael's mother. I don't imagine you've met her yet. I don't imagine you even know Michael."
Glen takes another sip of coffee, and stares out the window. "It looks like it could rain today."
"It's in the forecast anyway."
"We were his slaves. And then Francois, poor father Francois..."
"He's okay now. He's with us"
"Are you a member here already?"
"I'm here less than a week. Not long enough for a novitiate."
" Not even a postulancy. What do you think of your hosts?"
"Wonderful people. "They want me to make my home here with them. "
"Why don't you?" Glen says, smiling.
"And that is a very good question..."
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