bottle and handed Jenny one of the two glasses he’d filled. “Where, the Reflecting Pool?”
“Washington,” she clarified. “This city. It’s so beautiful.”
Luke eyed her warily, although a smile teased the corners of his lips. “You aren’t going to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, are you?”
She chuckled. “I know I’m a cornball,” she admitted without apology. “But if you ask me—you didn’t, of course, but I’m going to say it anyway—if you ask me, the biggest problem with this country is that people aren’t corny enough. They’re all so busy hustling. That was your word, wasn’t it? They’re too busy hustling to stop and think about how magnificent this city is—not just this city but everything it stands for.”
Luke stretched out his legs and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you want to know what goes on inside that magnificent building behind me?” he asked, angling his head toward the Capitol. “People talk too much without saying a damned thing. They cut deals. They focus on the next election instead of the next century. They worry about how to get onto a TV news show, and then, if they’re lucky enough to land a booking, they worry about how to handle the show’s host. That’s what the Capitol stands for.”
Jenny had seen enough cynicism in her peers not to be taken aback by Luke’s claim. What did take her aback her was the strange wistfulness in his voice, as if he honestly wished things were different. “If that’s the way you feel, why on earth do you want to become a lawyer and join the hustle?” she asked.
“Who says I want to?” he let slip, then shot her a quick, tenuous smile and looked away.
She studied him for a moment. Refusing to meet her gaze, he gazed steadily at the Washington Monument towering above the Mall amid a circle of flags. She could exercise tact and refrain from questioning him on the little bombshell he’d just dropped, but that would be out of character. He knew she was a busybody, and he’d told her the night they’d met that he didn’t mind.
“Why are you planning to become a lawyer if you don’t want to be one?” she asked.
He shifted his weight onto one elbow so he could free the other arm, which he used to lift his glass to his lips. He took a long sip of wine, then lowered the glass and continued to look at the Monument. “Things aren’t always so simple, Jenny,” he said cryptically.
Most things seemed extremely simple to her—not advanced calculus or foreign languages, but the essential things: love, work, responsibility, hope, trust, knowing right from wrong. If a person didn’t want to become a lawyer, he shouldn’t become one. There were so many equally worthwhile professions to choose from, so much equally important work to be done. “You aren’t just doing it for the money, are you?”
He let out a wry laugh. “You’ve already figured out I’m rich,” he answered. “Making lots of money isn’t an issue.”
“Then why are you going to law school?”
At last he turned to look at her. His eyes were piercing, his smile poignant. She realized she was nosing around in sensitive territory. Yet Luke could have told her to shut up; he could have scolded her for her busybody tendencies and sent her on her way. “If you really want to know...” he began, then drifted off.
She urged him on with a solemn nod.
He contemplated her for a moment more, then said, “I’ve got to become a lawyer because my brother’s in Alaska.”
His brother? Alaska? Jenny frowned. “Is he in jail there? Have you got to go there and defend him or something?”
“No, he’s not in jail. Last I heard he was working at a marina in Sitka.”
“That must be exciting,” Jenny said, meaning it. She loved exploring marinas and fantasizing about the millionaires who owned the yachts. And Alaska seemed wonderfully exotic.
“He’s not doing it for excitement,” Luke corrected her. “He’s doing it because
“Washington,” she clarified. “This city. It’s so beautiful.”
Luke eyed her warily, although a smile teased the corners of his lips. “You aren’t going to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, are you?”
She chuckled. “I know I’m a cornball,” she admitted without apology. “But if you ask me—you didn’t, of course, but I’m going to say it anyway—if you ask me, the biggest problem with this country is that people aren’t corny enough. They’re all so busy hustling. That was your word, wasn’t it? They’re too busy hustling to stop and think about how magnificent this city is—not just this city but everything it stands for.”
Luke stretched out his legs and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Do you want to know what goes on inside that magnificent building behind me?” he asked, angling his head toward the Capitol. “People talk too much without saying a damned thing. They cut deals. They focus on the next election instead of the next century. They worry about how to get onto a TV news show, and then, if they’re lucky enough to land a booking, they worry about how to handle the show’s host. That’s what the Capitol stands for.”
Jenny had seen enough cynicism in her peers not to be taken aback by Luke’s claim. What did take her aback her was the strange wistfulness in his voice, as if he honestly wished things were different. “If that’s the way you feel, why on earth do you want to become a lawyer and join the hustle?” she asked.
“Who says I want to?” he let slip, then shot her a quick, tenuous smile and looked away.
She studied him for a moment. Refusing to meet her gaze, he gazed steadily at the Washington Monument towering above the Mall amid a circle of flags. She could exercise tact and refrain from questioning him on the little bombshell he’d just dropped, but that would be out of character. He knew she was a busybody, and he’d told her the night they’d met that he didn’t mind.
“Why are you planning to become a lawyer if you don’t want to be one?” she asked.
He shifted his weight onto one elbow so he could free the other arm, which he used to lift his glass to his lips. He took a long sip of wine, then lowered the glass and continued to look at the Monument. “Things aren’t always so simple, Jenny,” he said cryptically.
Most things seemed extremely simple to her—not advanced calculus or foreign languages, but the essential things: love, work, responsibility, hope, trust, knowing right from wrong. If a person didn’t want to become a lawyer, he shouldn’t become one. There were so many equally worthwhile professions to choose from, so much equally important work to be done. “You aren’t just doing it for the money, are you?”
He let out a wry laugh. “You’ve already figured out I’m rich,” he answered. “Making lots of money isn’t an issue.”
“Then why are you going to law school?”
At last he turned to look at her. His eyes were piercing, his smile poignant. She realized she was nosing around in sensitive territory. Yet Luke could have told her to shut up; he could have scolded her for her busybody tendencies and sent her on her way. “If you really want to know...” he began, then drifted off.
She urged him on with a solemn nod.
He contemplated her for a moment more, then said, “I’ve got to become a lawyer because my brother’s in Alaska.”
His brother? Alaska? Jenny frowned. “Is he in jail there? Have you got to go there and defend him or something?”
“No, he’s not in jail. Last I heard he was working at a marina in Sitka.”
“That must be exciting,” Jenny said, meaning it. She loved exploring marinas and fantasizing about the millionaires who owned the yachts. And Alaska seemed wonderfully exotic.
“He’s not doing it for excitement,” Luke corrected her. “He’s doing it because
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