“So you went into real estate.”
“Yep. I was looking for a profession where I thought I could make a decent living and one that I would like. One summer, my best friend’s parents put their house on the market, and I just happened to be there when their realtor came to talk to them about listing it. I remember thinking she was so pretty, and so professional. But what really impressed me was that she was driving a BMW.” Madeline laughed.
He smiled. “There are worse reasons to choose an occupation.”
“What about you? Why did you choose architecture?”
“Same kind of thing,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t good enough at football to go pro after college. And I hated English.” He laughed. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Then my mom got sick, and college became a hit-or-miss kind of thing. I would go one semester, drop out the next. Enroll again. It took me almost six years to finish as it was.” He tossed a crust onto his plate. “If that doesn’t focus you, nothing will. I landed on architecture and didn’t look back. I couldn’t afford to look back. And I’m struggling for time,” he added with a shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish the semester because I’ve missed too much. I have to redeem myself next week on a test, or I have to drop the class.”
“Oh no.” Madeline would be beside herself if she’d paid for a class and couldn’t finish it. She looked at Luke’s hands. They were strong hands, with thick fingers, a scar across the back of one, calloused across the pad of his right hand. He’d built his life with his hands.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Luke said. “If I have to, I’ll just take it again.”
“Are you glad you chose architecture?” Madeline asked.
“Yeah, I am. I discovered that I really liked the math and puzzle of it. You know, putting things together, making different designs work.” He suddenly smiled at her, and—whether it was the beer or the moment, Madeline was dazzled by it. Truly dazzled. Warm and fuzzily dazzled.
She smiled, too, took another swig of her beer. “I would love to see your houses and designs sometime. Houses are my thing, you know.”
“I know,” he said watching her. “Ironic, huh?”
She smiled. “A little.” They sat gazing at each other. Madeline could feel the tension swirling around them again, but then the lights over the bar suddenly flickered. She and Luke looked up at the same moment, and in the next, the power went out.
“Great,” she said.
“It happens a lot in the spring. Hold tight,” he said, and got up from the bar, disappearing into the living room. Madeline shivered; the kitchen and dining area were awash in the green, murky light of the storm. All around that little bungalow, the wind howled, and flashes of lightning illuminated the room for a few seconds before the rain swallowed up the light and made the room murky again.
A moment later, Luke reappeared. He had a flashlight. “Grab the beers, okay?” he said, and held out the light, pointing it on the floor where Madeline was to walk. He led her into the living room, where he had propped two floor pillows against his couch, just before the hearth.
“Fabulous!” she said. It was warmer before the fire. They could hear the storm raging, could still see the flashes of lightning, but the fire seemed to form a barrier between the storm and them.
Luke’s legs stretched long in front of him, his arm casually draped across the couch behind her. “So who is Trudi?” he asked. “You’ve mentioned her a few times.”
“She’s the sister I never had,” Madeline said airily, before she realized what she’d said. She smiled sheepishly. “I mean, until now.”
“That must be strange, finding out about siblings at this stage of the game.”
“It’s surreal,” Madeline agreed.
“What about your mom?” he asked. “She didn’t know about them?”
Madeline snorted and settled deeper into the cushion. “No.” She felt warm and fluid after two beers, and uncharacteristically trusting. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said sagely. “My dad wasn’t the only bad parent in my life. My mother…” She took a breath and let it out, slowly, thinking how best to describe her. “She’s not very responsible. No, wait, let me rephrase that. She’s totally irresponsible,” she said, pointing with her beer bottle for emphasis. “I’ve always had to take care of her.”
“I gathered,” he said. He put his hand on her leg and squeezed softly. “Sorry.”
“I’ll break it down for you,” Madeline said, feeling safe. “One, lots of stepfathers and stepfather wannabes. Two, she never held a job more than a couple of months. Three, she squanders everything anyone ever gives her, and four, she’s kind of self-centered.”