It looked like a London pub with its brass and wood. There was a long bar across from a mirror the length of it, but there were also round dark walnut tables spread evenly throughout the establishment. A set of faux-leather and dark wood booths were all in the back, where the lighting was a bit more subdued. There was the aroma of something delicious being prepared in the kitchen. Four young men in sport jackets, ties loosened, were at the bar and turned to look at me. The bartender was a curly-gray-haired man with a face that had the kind of deeply etched lines that people would rationalize as giving him more character. There was a waitress sitting on the farthest stool at the bar. I saw no other woman in the tavern. Two older men were at a table on my right, and three men who looked a bit older were at another table down from them. One of the men had a golden retriever sprawled at his feet. Everyone stopped talking for a moment to look at me. I waved back at Sam and started toward him.
