“Oh,” Brooke said, still puzzled. “Look, we’re going to Aubry’s for brunch. Your family’s going, too. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“I thought we were going home for dinner,” Eric said.

“Change of plans?” Brooke said. “My mom asked your mom if she wanted to come and it sort of expanded from there. Anyway, that’s where we’re going. You coming?”

“Sure,” Eric replied.

“ ’Kay,” Brooke said, waving. “See you there.”

Aubry’s was a buffet style restaurant, a tradition in Crab Apple. It served “good ole time” food, which meant heavy on the gravy and “fixin’s.” As Eric filled up his plate he had to admit he’d missed it. Lord knows he could use the calories. And it was nice to see that one thing hadn’t changed.

“You can certainly put it away,” Mrs. Pierson said as Eric sat down with his second heaping plate.

“He needs it,” Amanda Bergstresser said. “He’s as thin as a rail. Probably because he goes out running every morning. How far did you go this morning?”

“Not far,” Eric said, taking a bite of meatloaf smothered in gravy.

“He told me he went ten miles,” Josh said. “I’m still not sure I believe him.”

“Like I said,” Eric replied, looking over at his brother, “not far.”

“Do you do a lot of running in the Marines?” Brooke asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eric replied. “In my unit we do, anyway. Most Marines don’t run as far, but everybody does morning PT.”

“What unit is that?” Mr. Pierson asked.

“Bravo Company, Force Reconnaissance,” Eric replied, automatically. Nobody outside the Barracks used the term Space Marines.

“I was in the Navy,” Mr. Pierson said. “A bubblehead. Ever been on a submarine?”

Eric froze with a forkful of green beans in mid-air, then nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he said, thinking about the cover for his unit. “I’m… well, I’m assigned to one of the new littoral boats. I actually spend a lot of time in a sub, sir.”