Before he could answer, a visitor popped up next to Connor. The intrusion cut off the uncomfortable topic, and he appreciated that. The older man stood there in a flannel shirt and down vest, both in shades of brown. Connor hadn’t met the older man yet and tried to pin down his age. It proved impossible despite the snowy white hair and slight hint of a bend in his shoulders. He could be anywhere from sixty up.

He nodded his chin at Connor. “Are you Hansen’s brother?”

“His name is Connor,” Maddie said as she lowered her fork to the side of her plate and made the informal introductions. “This is Paul.”

“Hi, Paul.” Connor assumed the other man would leave after the brisk handshake but that didn’t happen.

“My back steps need some work.”

Not the usual greeting and not one Connor could maneuver through without some assistance. His gaze traveled from Paul to Maddie and back again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Paul shoved his hands in his vest pockets. “It started as a squeak but now the board gives when I step on it. Could crack at any time.”

Connor peeked around the man’s slim build to take a quick look at the rest of the dining room. He couldn’t be the only one who thought this was odd, but the lack of response from the other diners suggested he might be. “Okay.”

“Between the step and loose railing . . .” Paul demonstrated . . . something . . . with his hands before giving up and shrugging. “Well, you get it.”

He really didn’t. “Do I?”

“Paul, I’m not sure—”

Paul waved off Maddie’s comment and kept his gaze locked on Connor. “You’re handy like your brother, right?”

He and Hansen ran and were part-owners, along with their parents, of a lucrative design firm back in Washington, D.C. They handled engineering, building design, and construction. Multimillion-dollar contracts. He supervised crews and job sites. Won awards and was responsible for more than a hundred employees. People tended to think of him as a desk guy, the one behind the scenes, making sure every deadline and regulation was met, but yeah. “Related, yes. Handy? Only sort of.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed as if he didn’t like the tone or how long it took Connor to answer. “What does that mean?”

Fair question. “What kind of work are we talking about?”

“Come over tomorrow and take a look. You can work while I make some coffee.”

Connor thought he’d be giving more of a diagnosis of what needed to be done than doing it. He didn’t have so much as a hammer with him on Whitaker. “I’m not actually a handyman.”

Paul made a strangled sound. “What are you?”

“An engineer.”

“There you go.” Paul snorted. “They build stuff, right?”

“Paul.” Maddie’s tone sounded like a warning.