“He did a nice job,” she said. “He’s quite the carpenter, your brother.” Never mind that it had taken forever to get it done.

Brody sank into the waiting-room chair with a sigh. “I know.”

Kate wondered what had brought him here. She set her elbows on the swivel chair’s wooden arms and leaned back against the plush leather. Brody crossed his legs, propping his right ankle on his hairy knee. Gravity pulled at the heel of his worn flip-flop.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Kate teased.

“I was wondering if you’d help me with something.” His eyes darted around the room, settling nowhere.

“I’d be happy to help in any way I can.” Kate felt sorry for him in his awkwardness. “Is it a girl problem?” That she was accustomed to. People often sought her advice—not just in letters, but on the street sometimes.

“No, not girls. I got a handle on that.” His cocky smile lasted a short second. “It’s . . . school.” The word dropped like a fifty-pound bag of sand.

“Ah,” Kate said. “The switch in majors?”

“Yeah.” He shook the bangs from his eyes. “I can’t decide what I want to do. I mean, I’m three years into college and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.” He tucked in the corner of his mouth at his joke.

He was still young at twenty-one, but Kate understood his frustration. “What was your major when you entered college? University of Massachusetts, right?”

“Yeah. I started as an education major. That lasted for a year and a semester.”

“What made you decide on education?”

“I thought I could come back here and teach high school. Maybe middle school. I don’t know. I did well in school and I thought it would be fun to teach.”

“What did you change to?”

“Art.” He rolled his eyes. “I know—it’s like, what am I going to do with a career in art?”

“Are you good at it?” Kate watched his face, looking for some sign of passion.

“Sure, I guess. My professors thought I was.”

Outside the front window a truck braked, the squeal piercing the wall. “What made you change?”

“Does the term ‘starving artist’ mean anything to you? After a couple semesters, I realized how hard it would be to support a family with an art degree. Megan—she was my girlfriend at the time—thought I should switch to computer science.”

“Is that what your major is now?”

“Yeah. I like computers and everything. I get good grades, and I know it would be a good career, but . . .” He punctuated the sentence with a sigh.

Kate waited. She had yet to see him talk about anything that ignited a fire in his eyes.

“So now you’re thinking of architecture?”