"Well? Is everything all set?"
He nodded.
"Good, Matthew," she said. "I can't wait for you to be able to relax once this all settles down." She thought of the time she would have with him after tomorrow's meeting and smiled, more at this thought than to comfort him.
Matthew frowned. "He says I don't know what I'm doing. That I don't have a clue." He stared into the bottle. "He says I don't have instinct. No vision, guts. Unless I'm wrong, I don't think he realizes what's going down tomorrow." He met his wife's eyes. His expression soured; then half resentfully, he sought her reassurance. "Have I been wrong? What if I've misread everyone's loyalties? What if he has his own plan to spring on me tomorrow?"
A voice inside Greta's head roared No! No matter what Peter Jones had up his sleeve - yes, certainly he had something - her husband's well thought out plan was more powerful. It was too late now, anyway, to start worrying about the enemy's strategy. That she never seriously considered it probably meant that her instincts about Peter were correct. He was blind to what was coming.
"No sweetheart. Don't think that way." She gently pushed back some hair from Matthew's forehead. "You're doing exactly the right thing. And after tomorrow, everything will be fine."
He offered her a dim smile, then closed his eyes.
For the briefest instant there she had felt his need for her. It had been so long since he'd called to her for help. However cursory, she had served him nevertheless. And now it was her turn, tit for tat. "Let's go for a walk down by the stables. What do you say?" She grasped his hand as she rose.
Too weary to protest, he rose to his feet and let his wife lead him off.
* * *