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She nodded her thanks and I headed for the back door. But she cut me off.
“Luke,” she started, “what would you do? You know, if you could be anything. Dream world. No obligations. No family, no legacy. Anything’s possible. What would you do?”
The question blindsided me. The truth was that from the moment that Emmeline told me that she was pregnant, my future was sealed. I was going to be a husband and father. Then when, suddenly, I wasn’t, I was thrust into the role of the good son, taking over the family business and stepping up to care for my mother. I wasn’t allowed to think about what I wanted.
The path I’d wanted was sealed in a desk drawer and only came out when I wanted to torture myself thinking about a life that could have been.
“I have no idea,” I answered.
“Well then, maybe think about it.”
I spentthe day checking in on the various jobs that Kane Construction had going on, including the one at the Blue Creek Motel. Carter and Kieran were there, having just finished the rewiring in the lobby, talking to the Mr. Buford, the owner, rather animatedly. I drew in a shaky breath, getting nervous. Carter was a great carpenter and electrician, but his people skills were questionable. He and Kieran often sounded like overgrown frat boys when they spoke to clients, and I hurried over there before they invited him out for a night of beer pong and hitting on women at Rook’s.
“Mr. Buford,” I said, inserting myself into the conversation.
“Luke,” he replied. “Good to see you.”
“Hope my brother here isn’t talking your ear off.”
I shot Carter astand downlook. But instead of backing off, he just looked pissed.
“Carter was just telling me something very interesting,” Mr. Buford.
“Sorry about that. We normally don’t pay him to talk,” I said. “Come on, guys. We should get back to the office.”
“No, please. I want to hear the end of the story,” Mr. Buford said. “I love hearing stories about Hank. He was a good friend.”
I blinked a few times. I didn’t expect Carter to be talking about our father.
“I was just telling Mr. Buford about that year the high school did that musical where everybody was supposed to be on that big boat. But they didn’t have the money for the set and the theater kids were all disappointed and shit,” Carter told him. “So Dad and his crew came in and built them the whole thing, like, in the middle of the night. The cast said it was like Broadway Christmas. They walked in and were like, ‘Whoa. The boat’s here.’ And he didn’t take credit for it or anything.”
I chuckled. I remembered a few nights during spring of my senior year when our dad had come home in the early hours of the morning, covered in paint and sawdust, humming the title number fromAnything Goes.
“I remember that. My daughter Sophie was in that play,” Mr. Buford said. “I’m no theater buff, but that rinky-dink high school auditorium looked like a damn Broadway stage. He made her senior year.”
Mr. Buford took a step back and admired Carter’s handiwork. The lobby looked beautiful. It retained a lot of the charm from the original design, but now could rival any modern budget hotel in the nearby area.
“And it looks like you guys are living up to his example,” Mr. Buford said proudly. “Thank you.”
He nodded before returning to his office, and I looked at my brother and Kieran.
“Nice job, guys,” I told them.
Carter rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“What do you meanwhatever?” I asked.
Carter ignored me and left the motel. I turned to Kieran, hoping he’d explain, but Kieran just followed his friend out to the van and they drove away.
“You’re two for two this morning, Kane,” I whispered to myself.
I foundCarter in the office break room. I approached cautiously. He still looked pissed.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
“Why?”
“You’re pissed and I know it’s at me, so I’m apologizing.”
