Dear sweet Evie was like a breath of fresh air. Her eyes reminded him of his mother's eyes, dark and flashing, as when she'd greeted him at the door, excited, bouncing on the tips of her toes, in an attempt to welcome him with a hug. Spontaneous, that was the word that best described her. He was never sure how to respond to spontaneous. He was like his father, in that respect. Everything planned and organized.
Yes, he thought, Evie was perfect for Richard. Even her career choice would blend well with his brother's quiet, patient, see-the-goodness-in-all personality. And her spontaneity would shake his complacency and awaken his need for a keen enjoyment of life at its best. Joie_de_vivre, he thought with enthusiasm.
"Social Services is a good choice, Evie," he said. Turning to his brother, "Don't you think, bro?" he asked.
"Yes, a very good choice. Especially for Evie. I remember her in high school. Always into charitable activities — collecting clothes for storm victims, or helping out with charity benefits anyway she could."
"Yes, I recall," Henry said. "In fact, you both were on the team that decorated the school hall for my senior prom. You guys did a fabulous job!" Memories were flooding back. "And didn't you take her to your senior prom, a couple of years later?" he asked Richard.
His brother shook his head. "No. Not that I didn't ask her, but she had someone else in mind."