He had avoided us since Saturday morning.
Now he hesitated, then came down toward the fence.
“Gus.”
Dad looked up.
“Morning.”
“It’s afternoon.”
Dad glanced at the sky.
“So it is.”
Brent shifted awkwardly.
“I wanted to talk.”
I instinctively stiffened.
Dad noticed.
“Laura.”
One word.
A warning not to sharpen myself unnecessarily.
Brent rested both hands on the fence.
“I spoke to the county.”
“So did I.”
“They explained the exemption.”
Dad waited.
“I didn’t understand what you were doing here.”
Dad looked over the rows.
“You never asked.”
Brent absorbed that.
“No.”
It was not an apology.
Not yet.
But it was the beginning of one.
Brent glanced at Claire.
“I’m Brent.”
“Claire.”
He nodded.
Then his gaze returned to Dad.
“My wife says I should apologize.”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“What do you say?”
Brent actually laughed.
“I say she’s usually smarter than I am.”
