He chuckles. “Maybe, but we are not going to find out. Nobody will ever hire you to do any legit computer work if you get caught doing something like that. I’m old enough to know not to take any stupid chances like that anymore.”

I already knew Luke was skilled with computers. But this is an interesting piece of information. I file it away in my brain for later.

“I bet you were perfect when you were a kid,” he comments. “I bet you were the kind of kid that every adult was in love with. A teacher's pet—am I right?”

“Not exactly.”

His left eyebrow arches up. “Is that so?”

“A lot of teachers don’t like you,” I say, “when you’re smarter than they are.”

Luke stares at me for a second, then he chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you were.”

I’m pleased that he found my assertion amusing rather than arrogant. It is, after all, simply a fact. Very early on, my intellect exceeded everyone who was tasked to teach me. And a lot of adults indeed resent a child who is smarter than they are.

A lot of parents do as well.

I brace myself for more questions about my childhood and family, but they never come. Instead, we sit quietly in my kitchen, chewing our saltine peanut butter sandwiches. Even if I wanted to make conversation, it would be hard with all the peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth. Perhaps that is why Luke stopped asking questions and not out of respect for my privacy. He looks around the house as we eat, a slightly amazed look on his face.

“Big place you got here,” he finally says.

“Yes, it’s just me.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t have to.” I drum my fingers against the kitchen table. “People look at this house and assume I must live here with a husband and children. And when I defy that expectation, it upsets them. People dislike when things don’t meet their expectations.”

“Well,” he says, “I want you to know that you exceed my expectations.”

I allow myself a smile. “Do I?”

“You do. And also, I’m pretty glad you don’t have a husband. Obviously.”

I shift my weight in the wooden kitchen chair. “How about you? You told me you used to be married.”

It’s amazing the way Luke completely shuts down when I bring up his previous marriage. That’s exactly what happened when I was trying to interview him earlier. His eyes wall off and his lips set into a straight line. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I see.”

He’s not being fair. He’s thirty-six years old and a widower. He must realize that such a revelation is enough to make people wonder. How do you lose your wife at such a young age?