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"I don't remember her. I wish I did. I barely remember my dad talking about her."
"Do you have any photos?"
"No."
"That seems odd."
"I'm sure there were some around at some point, but I didn't end up with any."
She still thought that was strange, but she let it go. "So, it was just you and your dad."
"Just us," he said, sitting back as the server dropped off their meals. "That was fast."
Too fast. She'd wanted more time to talk to him, but he was now focused on his food. Since she was hungry as well, she dug into her steak salad, thinking about the very little he'd told her so far. She shouldn't pry into his life any further, but she really wanted to. She waited until they were done with lunch before turning the conversation in a more personal direction.
As the server removed their plates, she lingered over her coffee, unwilling to call an end to lunch just yet. "Tell me a little more about yourself," she said. "If I'm going to hire you, I'd like to know more about you."
"Do you want me to give you a resume?"
"Just an idea of who you are, what you've been doing. You live in Los Angeles, right?"
"That's where I'm currently based, but my jobs take me all over the country. I don't like to stay in one place too long."
"Why the need to keep moving around?"
"It's a big world. I want to see as much of it as I can."
"Like your dad."
"Yes."
"How did you get into construction?"
"When I was sixteen, a friend of a friend's dad told me I could do some labor for him during a school break. I enjoyed working outside, and the money was decent, so I picked up a hammer. The rest is history."
"You're glossing over a lot of years," she complained.
"If you're concerned about my level of experience, I'm more than capable of doing your job. I'm sure Joel will vouch for me."
"I'm not concerned. I just like to know who I'm working with." She paused, thinking about his unusual upbringing. "Does your father still travel a lot?"
"No. He passed away when I was twenty-one," he said tersely.
Her jaw dropped. "Oh, my God! What happened? He must have been so young."
"Thirty-nine. He was on a research trip in Africa, and he got struck by lightning and died."
She stared at him in astonishment. "Are you serious?"
He nodded, a grim set to his mouth. "Yes. The odds are like a billion to one, but it's what happened. While it was a freakish way to go, in some ways, it was exactly right. My father lived on his own terms. He did what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. Not that he was selfish; he wasn't. He was very generous and kind and interested in people. Everywhere he went, he became the center of attention because he was funny and genuine. But he couldn't live according to anyone's idea of structure or purpose. He had to be free, and he was. He was perfectly well until he wasn't. In fact, he had told me a day earlier that trip was the trip of his lifetime. He wished I'd gone with him, but I was in college then and trying to find my own life rather than follow him around in his." Decker paused. "His words were more prophetic than he knew."
"That's awful, Decker."
"I'm glad he didn't suffer. I couldn't imagine him getting sick and having to be trapped or stuck somewhere. He would have hated that."
She had a feeling he needed to think that to feel at peace with a death so sudden and so tragic. He'd been through a lot in his life. She never would have guessed, because he appeared lighthearted and carefree, but there was deep pain somewhere. "You've lost both your parents," she murmured. "That's not right."
"It is what it is," he said pragmatically. "I had a great childhood. Growing up with my dad was amazing. It was one adventure after the next. Our time together was short, but it was good. He always told me to move forward, never look back. That's how he lived his life and how I try to live mine."
