he didn’t want to become a lawyer.”
All right—maybe some things weren’t so simple. “Are those the only two choices a person has? Either you become a lawyer or you work at a marina in Sitka?”
“In my family, it comes down to that, more or less.” He took another long sip of wine, draining his glass, and then set it down and shifted his weight back to both his elbows. “Elliott’s the firstborn. He was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps, become the next hot-shot attorney, find his place in the loop and rub elbows with the power people. He was the oldest son. The crown was waiting for him. But...” Luke shrugged. “He abdicated. And I’m next in line.”
Jenny would have laughed at the absurdity of Luke’s statement, except that he was apparently quite serious. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to live like royalty,” she pointed out. “I mean, primogeniture seems a bit archaic, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter what it seems,” Luke argued somberly. “That’s the way it is in my family. I’m the heir-apparent now that Elliott’s given up his place in line for the throne. I’m the one who has to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“Why? I mean, what’s to keep you from doing what your brother did, getting a job at a marina in, say, Key West?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed, suddenly darkening with turbulent emotion. “My father loves me,” he said, his voice low and intense. “I’m not going to disappoint him.”
This was definitely not simple. “If your father loved you,” she said gently, “he wouldn’t want you to go to law school if you didn’t want to.”
Luke responded to her observation by growing tense. His jaw stiffened, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyes lost a good measure of their warmth. Jenny acknowledged that she’d gone too far. Some things seemed so obvious to her—for instance, a father’s accepting a beloved child’s aspirations without quibble—that she blurted them out without considering how people might take them.
Luke clearly didn’t take her remark well. “I’ve been presumptuous,” she said contritely. “I’m sorry, Luke.”
“Forget it.”
“Maybe I should skip teaching and become a family therapist,” she muttered. “I could recite all sorts of platitudes and spend my whole life making people angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” he insisted, giving her a crooked smile. “If you want to make a career of reciting platitudes, you ought to consider running for Congress.”
If she’d offended him, he seemed to have recovered. She was relieved. “Tell me about Princeton,” she said. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s a beautiful campus.”
“It is,” Luke confirmed, his smile widening and his eyes regaining their earlier warmth. She suspected that his pleasure had less to do with Princeton than with her having changed the topic. If his father’s love truly depended on his attending law school, it was a very sad situation—and he didn’t need Jenny to point that out to him.
She listened to his descriptions of the ivy-covered stone buildings with their sloping roofs and latticed windows, the stately shade trees and rolling lawns, the charm of the town surrounding the school. He made Princeton sound so pretty, she privately vowed that she’d visit the school someday, even if not as Luke’s guest. She barely knew him, after all; she had no idea whether their fledgling friendship would survive the summer.
Still, it was a glorious dream: that she and Luke would continue to see each other, that they’d grow closer, that he’d forgive her for being so blunt and frank—that he’d even like her for it. That their relationship would evolve, that in time kissing him would feel right, that she would look into his eyes and see nothing but warmth, heat, love. That, come autumn, the love wouldn’t evanesce into a fond memory but would endure, and she’d go to Princeton
All right—maybe some things weren’t so simple. “Are those the only two choices a person has? Either you become a lawyer or you work at a marina in Sitka?”
“In my family, it comes down to that, more or less.” He took another long sip of wine, draining his glass, and then set it down and shifted his weight back to both his elbows. “Elliott’s the firstborn. He was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps, become the next hot-shot attorney, find his place in the loop and rub elbows with the power people. He was the oldest son. The crown was waiting for him. But...” Luke shrugged. “He abdicated. And I’m next in line.”
Jenny would have laughed at the absurdity of Luke’s statement, except that he was apparently quite serious. “Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to live like royalty,” she pointed out. “I mean, primogeniture seems a bit archaic, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter what it seems,” Luke argued somberly. “That’s the way it is in my family. I’m the heir-apparent now that Elliott’s given up his place in line for the throne. I’m the one who has to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“Why? I mean, what’s to keep you from doing what your brother did, getting a job at a marina in, say, Key West?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed, suddenly darkening with turbulent emotion. “My father loves me,” he said, his voice low and intense. “I’m not going to disappoint him.”
This was definitely not simple. “If your father loved you,” she said gently, “he wouldn’t want you to go to law school if you didn’t want to.”
Luke responded to her observation by growing tense. His jaw stiffened, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyes lost a good measure of their warmth. Jenny acknowledged that she’d gone too far. Some things seemed so obvious to her—for instance, a father’s accepting a beloved child’s aspirations without quibble—that she blurted them out without considering how people might take them.
Luke clearly didn’t take her remark well. “I’ve been presumptuous,” she said contritely. “I’m sorry, Luke.”
“Forget it.”
“Maybe I should skip teaching and become a family therapist,” she muttered. “I could recite all sorts of platitudes and spend my whole life making people angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” he insisted, giving her a crooked smile. “If you want to make a career of reciting platitudes, you ought to consider running for Congress.”
If she’d offended him, he seemed to have recovered. She was relieved. “Tell me about Princeton,” she said. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s a beautiful campus.”
“It is,” Luke confirmed, his smile widening and his eyes regaining their earlier warmth. She suspected that his pleasure had less to do with Princeton than with her having changed the topic. If his father’s love truly depended on his attending law school, it was a very sad situation—and he didn’t need Jenny to point that out to him.
She listened to his descriptions of the ivy-covered stone buildings with their sloping roofs and latticed windows, the stately shade trees and rolling lawns, the charm of the town surrounding the school. He made Princeton sound so pretty, she privately vowed that she’d visit the school someday, even if not as Luke’s guest. She barely knew him, after all; she had no idea whether their fledgling friendship would survive the summer.
Still, it was a glorious dream: that she and Luke would continue to see each other, that they’d grow closer, that he’d forgive her for being so blunt and frank—that he’d even like her for it. That their relationship would evolve, that in time kissing him would feel right, that she would look into his eyes and see nothing but warmth, heat, love. That, come autumn, the love wouldn’t evanesce into a fond memory but would endure, and she’d go to Princeton
Similar Books
