Page 11 of Summer Love

"I have to be concerned about safety. I'm in charge of everyone working in this house. If someone gets hurt, it's on me."

She tipped her head slightly to the side. "That's commendable. Not every employer feels that same way."

"Why do I get the impression that you're interviewing me, even though it feels more like conversation?"

She grinned. "That's my superpower. I'm really good at getting information out of people. I've always been like that. Grams used to mention it like it was a good attribute."

"Tell me about her." As much as I wanted to get her focus off me, I also wanted to know more about her. I couldn't remember the last time I met anyone and had this sense of curiosity.

"She's lived her whole life on the island. Grew up in the cottage that she lives in now. She took walks on the beach and collected seashells. Her and my grandfather were high-school sweethearts. They lived together until he died a few years ago." The light in her eyes dimmed.

"I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. It was a while ago now, and she's okay. She's content living in her cottage and getting her walks on the beach. Mom and Dad were worried about her, talking about putting her in an assisted-living facility closer to them, and I didn't want that to happen. Grams needs to be near the sand; it's a part of her soul."

"I think I know what you mean. I couldn't move away. I'd miss the salt in the air."

"I hadn't realized how much I missed this place, and how much the sand and salt water are in my blood."

"So many of the kids leave and never come back."

"There aren't a lot of job opportunities here."

"Those of us who get to live here are the lucky ones," I said, hefting my screwgun in the air to drive in the next set of screws.

"Can I quote you on that?"

I winked at her. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

I pushed the trigger for the screwgun to drown out further attempts for her to respond. Listening to her talk about her grandmother with so much love in her voice made her more real. She wasn't just an opportunistic journalist that wanted to know my secrets. She was a person with wants and desires, hopes and dreams.

Would I have given up a career in another city to come home and take care of my family? I'd like to think so.

When the next board was secure, I turned off the screwgun.

"Have you ever thought about leaving? Maybe when you went to college?"

"I went to the University of Florida, so I wasn't far away, but no, I never considered another path."

"Did you need to go to college?"

"My dad is big on education. He wanted us to study business and finance so we could continue to run the business. He said we missed the education we would have gotten had we built the company ourselves. He wanted us to understand what it takes to run a business. He was worried that we won't be able to handle it when he's gone."

"Your dad wants the best for you."

I felt her gaze on the side of my face, but I refused to look at her. "Yeah."

"Did you ever have other dreams?"

I tried to think back to when I was a kid, and I couldn't think of any other hobbies. "I enjoyed school, sports, and working alongside my dad. Those are my favorite memories."

"When did you start working with your dad?"

I thought having her ask questions would be difficult, and I'd feel invaded, but she asked them in a way that felt like a natural conversation, like I was talking to a friend. "As early as I can remember, I was walking around on jobsites, asking him questions. I had my own set of tools, and he'd let me help him, just like you're doing now. He never acted like I was in his way."

"He was a good father," she said matter-of-factly.

"The best."

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