Page 52 of The Pink House

Hannah rolled her eyes. Charlie was so easy to be around and so much, well, fun.

“Let’s go back to why you left MIT without graduating.” Hannah wasn’t certain why she was suddenly so curious about everything to do with Charlie Rogan, but this piece of his history had always puzzled her.

“I considered staying and finishing out my last two years. The coursework wasn’t difficult, and I had a full ride. But my mother had been diagnosed with MS and was struggling. My dad, well, some people step up during hard times. Some don’t.”

Sympathy rose inside Hannah. “You came back to support your mother.”

“Yes, but I was also bored in school. I was eager to work on my own designs. In my own time. In my own way.” Charlie’s expression turned serious. “The building out back is my studio, or my workshop—either term fits. I have an office out there as well as equipment for testing designs.”

“What exactly do you design?”

She listened as he took her through the capabilities of his first major success, a new and improved launch scan tool widely used by mechanics.

“The tool is sturdy and works with most brands of cars. It has a wide range of capabilities, including accessing and controlling modules, along with data reading and graphing.”

He veered into the technical and lost her.

Did Charlie know that his eyes snapped with excitement when he spoke of vehicle control module specifications and mobile intelligent terminals? Or how the words tumbled out when he relayed the particulars regarding patents?

Brian, she realized, had been right. Charlie was one brilliant guy.

“How do you make money off your designs?” Hannah pulled her brows together. “I mean it’s not as if you have a manufacturing plant making these tools.”

“I licensed the patent with one of the top manufacturers of automotive tools.” Charlie’s tone remained matter-of-fact. “The monthly royalty payments allow me to continue to work on my other projects. I love being on my own. No office politics. Or, if there are any, they’re with myself.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious. Ever consider doing stand-up?”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” He lifted his can of Mountain Dew. “I may give it a try if this design gig goes dry.”

“If I’m hearing you right,” she took a sip of soda, her gaze firmly fixed on his face, “a normal workday consists of planning and working out the kinks of your next latest-and-greatest.”

“A bit simplistic, but accurate.” He smiled. “The kinks are what takes time.”

“What you do…” She paused, trying to think of the right way to say this. “It isn’t confined to the hours of nine to five.”

Though it had initially appeared to Hannah that Charlie spent very little time working, she now realized he had no constraints. He could create late at night or early in the morning.

“It’s also not a straight line. Often—frequently—an idea needs to percolate. Sometimes I take fifty wrong turns before I find success. And that specific success may be only a small part of the larger project.”

Hannah idly picked up another cake ball. Was this her second or third? Did it even matter?

She closed her mouth around it and found him staring. Her lips tingled, and swaths of heat warmed her cheeks. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I work best without pressure, especially the kind of pressure exerted by someone focused on the bottom line. And because I genuinely enjoy what I do, it doesn’t feel like work to me.”

Hannah nodded. She understood this mentality far better than he realized.

“I don’t know if you remember my dad,” he said.

“I don’t think I ever met him.” She’d remembered his mother only because of knowing her through her job at the library.

“He worked at Siegrist. He was a tool-and-die man.”

Hannah brought her memory of the business into focus. “Siegrist is the place out on the highway.”

“That’s right. He worked there from the time he got out of community college until he left GraceTown.” For the first time that evening, the sparkle left Charlie’s eyes. “He complained about his job nonstop.”

“Why did he stay all those years if he hated it so much?”

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