As dinner went on, Jack couldn’t deny that Nick was strangely endearing. Maybe part of it was that he reminded Jack a little of Chase: something in the set of the mouth, the corners of the eyes, the way he held his shoulders. Jack wondered if his mother had noticed it, whether that was why Wilma seemed to like him so well. She certainly seemed to melt before the kid. When Nick had blurted that he’d never before eaten with a golden fork, she had grinned, her eyes alight; Jack couldn’t recall the last time he had seen her smile like that.

Jack’s father, on the other hand, seemed suspicious, asking Nick many of the same questions that Jack had asked, wanting to know all about Nick’s family and origins.

“Well, my daddy was from Wisconsin, if you can believe it,” Nick said.

“Is that so?” John said. “And your mother?”

“Born and raised in Dover, just like me.”

John narrowed his eyes. “How did your parents meet?”

“Well, my daddy was a photographer. He went down to take pictures of the battlefield at Fort Donelson. His daddy had fought there on the Union side. He wanted to make a picture book, my momma said. But instead, he met my momma, because he stayed at her momma’s boardinghouse. He’d go out making pictures and taking notes all day, and then come back home at night and there’d be my momma waiting for him. She said she was bedazzled by him, because she’d never met a Yankee before.”

Elissa giggled.

“Is that right?” John said, sawing at his venison.

“Yes, sir. Course, when she set her mind to marry him, her momma about had a conniption. Because my momma’s daddy fought at Fort Donelson, too, only on the Confederate side. He got taken prisoner and suffered terrible. Never was the same, and died young. So momma was marrying the enemy, far as everyone around home figured it.”

“Oh, dear,” Wilma said.

“How do they feel about Yankees now?” Jack wanted to know.

“Well, sir, they’re still not fond of them in general,” Nick said, with a little smile over at Elissa. “But they haven’t met Lissa yet.”

“We’ve got to send him away, by God,” John said, as soon as he’d closed the door behind him. “He’s going to break Lissa’s heart.”

After dinner, John had called Jack away from the table and into his office off the living room. Nick was still charming the women with stories about the horses he’d encountered in his work with the Dover veterinarian, as they lingered over the last of the coffee they’d had with apple pie.