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got his father to grudgingly agree to his working at the church—with a pay cut—to make up for his lodging. They’d signed a contract, all proper and business like, for six months of living quarters and his trial work period for the church.
     
    “Welcome home, Mr. Heart,” Regina said, as he walked into his new offices. He’d moved everything in the previous weekend and was there to start work bright and early Monday morning.
     
    He smiled fondly at Regina before giving her a hug. The grandmotherly woman had been his father’s secretary at Blessed Union Church for as long as Bradley could remember. “Nothing here seems to have changed much.”
     
    “People just gettin’ older, sweet boy. We’ve missed you,” she said, patting his cheek, which was a feat since she was a good foot shorter than his six-foot-three.
     
    He held back the snort. His old man sure hadn’t missed him. In fact, they hadn’t seen each other since he’d pulled his U-Haul up to the ranch three days ago. His sister and her two teenage sons had been there to help him move in, but other than a welcome basket from his father’s house keeper, he’d heard not one peep.
     
    His father had even put him in an office in the bowels of the church, rather than close to the old man’s office upstairs. Granted, the bowels of Blessed Union were nicer than most. The multi-million dollar complex was what they in Texas called a mega-church. They had over two-thousand congregants who traveled from as far away as Austin, which was a good three hours. Their Sunday morning eleven o’clock service was even filmed for one of the Christian TV networks.
     
    They’d started significantly smaller, but when Bradley was just starting to head into his teenage years they’d signed the network contract; his father being catapulted to televangelist status after writing a few inspirational books. Between the TV contract and the books, the funding was provided for the church that many called the Blessed Union Compound.
     
    So while he was definitely in the basement, no windows to speak of, his office was shiny and new. White, with pristine new furniture. “This looks nothing like McFarley’s office.” Rodney McFarley had been the church accountant since before they’d grown to their current size, but with a new network contract and new wings being built onto the fellowship hall, he’d decided the workload was too much to handle and put in for his retirement.
     
    “No, it wouldn’t,” Regina said, primly. “He had a window.” Her disapproving expression spoke volumes as to how she objected to his office placement. “So your sister and I got together and had the boys make sure the walls down here were freshly painted and you got new office furniture.”
     
    She wandered into the room, turning on lights. They’d done a good job. They definitely hadn’t shopped at IKEA. He was warmed by their thoughtfulness. She flicked on the desktop computer. “Sorry the computer isn’t new, but it’s not old either. We’re all making due there, until construction on the east wing is complete.”
     
    “ Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “Thank you for making this look so nice.” He had been thrilled to have his own office, even if it was in the basement. But this was an actual office; other than the lack of a window, you’d never know it was in the basement. Someone, at least, appreciated the work he’d be doing.
     
    She waved him off. “You have a hard job keeping up with all the money. You’ll be at the treasurer’s beck and call. And she’s a piece of work.”
     
    He laughed loudly. “That’s not very Christian.”
     
    “Some people make you lose your religion when they walk in a room, and that woman is one of them.” She looked apologetic before starting her next statement. “I wouldn’t mention that you’re gay, honey. You know I love you, but some of the network people, and especially Debby Carter, the treasurer, are very