“Smiling doesn’t make someone look like a fool.”
His brows arched. “Harry Grovsner.”
She laughed louder than she meant to. Harry Grovsner was the president of the CCC—the Colony Citizens Committee—and everyone knew who he was. The man never stopped smiling, and, honestly, it did make him look like a bit of a simpleton. “Okay, point made. Do your kids live close?”
“Half-hour or so.”
She’d yet to see anyone visiting him. Maybe she should avoid that topic. She went in for another bite of cake. “This really is good. Your wife must have been a phenomenal baker.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She looked up, sensing he wanted to say more but might not know if she was interested in hearing it. “Tell me about her.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Doesn’t matter what. Tell me your favorite story about her. What you loved about her. A memory. Anything.”
That seemed to set Brick back. “You want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. If you don’t want to talk about her?—”
“No. I do.” He took a breath. “She was…good at everything she tried. House was always neat. Meals better than arestaurant. Kids looked after. She could sew anything. Knit. Bake. Managed the household budget. Cut the boys hair. Gardened. Canned.” His eyes had taken on a faraway gaze. “She taught Home Economics, so made sense.”
Blaise nodded. That was the most she’d ever heard him say. He’d obviously loved his wife very much. “No wonder her cake tastes like this. How did you meet?”
“Friend introduced us.” He sliced off another bite of cake with his fork but didn’t eat it. “She didn’t like me at first. Thought I was too quiet.”
“I can’t imagine.”
He shot her a look, realized she was teasing him, and his expression softened. “I grew up with deaf parents. Didn’t talk at all until school made me. Didn’t need to talk much being a Marine.”
“You were a Marine?”
“Still am. You never stop being one.”
“I see.” She smiled. “I’ll remember that. You’ve led an interesting life, haven’t you?”
“Not more than most. Bet you have stories.”
It was the first time that night he’d reminded her that he knew who she was. Or rather, who she’d been. She appreciated that. “Your wife sounds incredible.”
He nodded solemnly. “She was.”
Beau got up, stretched, then put his front legs on Brick’s thigh.
Brick looked at him, then at Blaise. “What’s he want?”
“To get up on your lap. It’s okay, just tell him to get down.”
“No. I don’t mind. Okay if I pick him up?”
“Absolutely.”
With great care, Brick bent and got his hands on Beau. One under his backside, the other supporting his body. He lifted the dog and gently placed the animal on his lap. “There you go, boy.”
Beau looked extraordinarily pleased with himself.
“Watch he doesn’t eat your cake. He’s sneaky like that and it’s too rich for him,” Blaise said, smiling. It was such a sweet scene, she wished she could take a picture, but she doubted Brick would like that. Something told her he didn’t go in for photos.
