“Your mom mentioned that.”
I play with the straw in my soda cup. “It’s funny, being home, watching you restore the gazebo to its former glory… it’s made me think about her more. She and your Aunt Maggie probably would have gotten along. Meema was kind of larger-than-life too. She traveled a lot… I wish I had asked her more questions while she was alive. I actually think… in some ways she’s the one who made me dream of having… I don’t know… a bigger life. That probably sounds childish.”
“Not at all.” Nate offers me a soft smile. “But yeah, I know what you mean. Losing my mom when she was so young… it makes you realize how short life is. That’s why I try not to get too bogged down in petty stuff. Well, except for when my dad talks through movies. But I think that deserves a certain level of rage in response.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I agree with a grin. “What’s it like working for him? I mean, I love my mom, but I think if she were my boss, one of us would definitely murder the other with a tomato knife.”
Nate laughs. “Is there a specific type of knife that’s just for tomatoes?”
“Actually, yes. It’s serrated. I’ll show you our stash sometime.”
He smiles and takes a fry. “Well, no homicides on my end yet… but it is a little weird sometimes. Dad’s a very old-school guy. Has some quirks that can make doing business together a challenge.”
“Like?”
“Like, he never trusts the accountants—even though he himself is terrible at math. And he always wants paper receipts foreverything. That’s why I have all that crap in my truck,” he says, a little sheepishly.
“Ahh, I see,” I say with knowing smile. “Sohe’sthe master of the mobile filing cabinet.”
“Yep. But if I’m going to work for him, I gotta do things his way,” Nate says with a shrug.
“Do youhaveto work for him?”
“I guess not…” Nate leans back in the booth. “This might sound lame, considering we’re just talking about a small, father-son carpentry business, but I kind of like the idea of a family legacy.”
“That doesn’t sound lame at all,” I say.
“I mean, maybe someday I’d like to expand to do more contractor work—actually help people build homes from the ground up. Put that year-and-a-half’s worth of architecture classes to good use.” He gives a little smile, but I can tell it’s half-hearted.
“You left school after a year and a half?” I ask gently. I don’t want Nate to think I’m judging him; I’m just curious.
“Yeah,” he says, looking down at the table and lining up his knife and fork on their paper napkin. “Honestly, I knew after freshman year it wasn’t for me, but Dad made me go back. I stuck it out for one more semester, then withdrew. He and I had a big fight over it actually.”
“Really?” I can’t imagine Nate—or his soft-spoken father—having any kind of fight.
“He said I was letting my grief make decisions for me. He didn’t want me to miss out on an opportunity because I was homesick, you know? Especially since the person I was homesick for was gone.”
I let my foot find his under the table—a simple gesture of comfort. “Seems like his heart was in the right place?”
Nate nods. “I eventually made him see that this life is actuallysomething I want—not just something I was defaulting to. And besides, he was being a hypocrite. He’d fallen apart just as badly, if not more. He desperately needed the help.”
“Well, you’re a good son. To be there for him like that. To be there for each other. Even if you had to give some things up.”
“Honestly,” he says, “Cara’s always been the ambitious one in the family anyway. She had this vision for the jewelry line and just—made it happen.”
I give a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, I know.”
“You’re pretty ambitious too.” Nate shifts in his seat, tracing the rim of his glass with a finger, eyes flicking up to mine before dropping back down. There’s a pause, like he’s weighing the words, and then he finally leans slightly forward. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… why did you go on the show in the first place?”
“My friend Emma nominated me,” I say, stuffing another fry into my mouth with a shrug.
“Didn’t mean you had to agree.”
I look out the window for a beat, trying to gather my thoughts, before returning Nate’s gaze. “I didn’t really know what I was doing with my life,” I start. “Honestly, I’m jealous that you’ve always been so clear about what you want. I had a degree in marketing, but I didn’t feel passionate about my job. Plus, I thought I’d find my future husband at college—like all my friends back home did—andthatdidn’t happen…” I give a little shrug. “I probably sound naive, given how everything played out, but I actually did kind of think maybe this was my path to finding love.”
“We’ve all had our delusions,” Nate says, and I want to laugh it off, but I feel the joke like a thud of disappointment in my chest. Maybe itwasa little delusional. But somehow, it feels different when he says it.
“Are you talking about me, right now? Or you?” I ask quietly.
