"Let me help you," Kate said.
"You get no dessert if you don't finish your meal, boy," Byron said. He rubbed his hands across his chest in post-Thanksgiving dinner fashion.
"Everything was delicious, Grace," Peter said. "It's just that I haven't had a very good appetite lately."
"That's all right. You can take home leftovers if you'd like."
"Too late," Byron said, spearing the remaining half of sausage from Peter's plate.
When Kate and Grace were out of earshot, Byron leaned across the table. "You're a lucky fellow," he whispered. "She's a pretty lady." He dropped a big wink.
"I know it," Peter agreed, looking out at the water. There was a stirring in his chest, and he quickly turned his thoughts to other things.
"Come on," Byron said, pushing away from the table. "Let's get some air while the ladies fuss and giggle."
Peter had to laugh at that one. The thought of Kate "fussing" about with Grace in the kitchen made Peter both happy and sad at the same time. It was what he wanted now, yet it was what she would not be for him. How could she be so sure they weren't ready to settle down? As far as children were concerned, they could adopt. Talking about kids, and knowing that there were none in his and Kate's near future, had turned his dark mood of late even darker.
As they headed out onto the deck, Byron pulled a small pouch from his pants pocket, and from his shirt pocket he produced a briar pipe. He filled the pipe in silence as they strolled along the dock. When they reached the end, Byron lit up. The glow of his match reflected back in the black water. That is just what I need, Peter thought, a spark to go off inside my head.