Chapter 97 Hidden Talent

Chapter 97 Hidden Talent
I’d thought Dad would start me off with something simple, swinging a hammer, carrying lumber, maybe learning to weld. Something where I could use my hands, where nobody cared about what I knew, only what I could do.

Instead, he led me into a sun-drenched drafting room and handed me a blueprint the size of a small table.

I stared at the maze of lines, numbers, and symbols, feeling my stomach drop. The paper was crisp, the ink clean, elevation views, cross sections, measurements, and little icons I’d never seen in my life. I could make out the title block in the corner: Second Floor Plan, Office Project #3127.

My hands felt clumsy as I leaned over the drafting table. “Dad…”

He folded his arms, watching me with that unreadable look. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t know how to read these.” The admission felt like failure.

He just smiled. “I know.”

I frowned. “Then why are you giving me one?”

He tapped the table. “Because I want to see how you think.”

That threw me. Around us, a few supervisors drifted over. Carl from fabrication, Frank from estimating, Mike from welding. They leaned on benches and toolboxes, pretending to be busy, but really just watching.

Dad slid a mechanical pencil across the table. “This project was completed three months ago.”

I glanced back down. “It’s already built?”

He nodded. “It is.”

“So… I’m supposed to find mistakes?”

“If you can.”

I laughed, nervous, uncertain. “Dad, I’ve never looked at a blueprint before.”

“I know.”

“So…” I waved helplessly at the mass of lines. “How am I supposed to find anything?”

He just grinned wider. “Use your eyes.”

I took a breath and tried. At first, all I could see was chaos. But then, slowly, I stopped seeing lines on paper and started picturing the real thing, steel beams rising from a concrete pad, the slow rhythm of framing, the hiss and flash of welding torches. I imagined myself on the job site, trying to build this place from the inside out.

Then, as if a switch flipped, the drawing started to make sense. Not all of it, but enough. I could see where workers would haul beams, where concrete would pour, where windows would catch the sun.

My finger hovered over a section. “Huh.”

Dad waited.

I frowned. “That support column… shouldn’t it line up with this beam?” I traced across the page.

Frank raised an eyebrow. Dad just said, “Why?”

I compared the marks. “Because otherwise, the weight shifts onto this smaller span. That beam would be overloaded.”

Carl straightened up, suddenly paying attention.

“And here,” I went on, “the loading dock corner... it’s too tight. Trucks would have trouble backing into Bay Three.” I mimed a trailer turning. “You’d have to widen this corner. Otherwise, big rigs would clip it.”

Mike muttered, “Holy...”

My confidence grew. “The employee entrance. Look... the parking lot’s over here, but the entrance is all the way across the loading zone. Nobody’s going to use the sidewalk. They’ll just cut through traffic.”

Now all three supervisors were listening intently. Dad’s face didn’t change, but I could tell I had his full attention.

“What about here?” Dad prompted, pointing at a narrow stairwell.

I measured the width with my thumb. “If you’re moving equipment upstairs, this is too tight. And—” I tapped another spot, “—there’s not enough clearance for wheelchair access.”

Dad’s eyebrows climbed. The others exchanged glances.

“And this emergency exit,” I said, tracing the door, “it opens inward. If there’s a panic, people could pile up and block the exit.”

The room fell silent. I looked up, uncertain. “…Did I miss something?”

Carl barked a laugh. “No way.”

Mike shook his head. “That’s insane.”

Frank looked at Dad. “He found all five.”

Dad finally broke into a real smile, proud, warm, the kind I’d only seen a handful of times. He stepped up beside me. “This drawing cost us almost forty grand.”

My jaw dropped. “…Seriously?”

He nodded. “Seriously. Carl, how many of those mistakes made it into the build?”

Carl grimaced. “…All of them.”

Dad squeezed my shoulder. “You found every one.”

I stared at the table, stunned. “I’ve never… I don’t know how.”

Dad’s eyes softened. “I do.”

He spoke quietly, voice just for me. “All your life, you’ve fixed things. When the apartment flooded, you traced the leak. When the heater broke, you took it apart. When Xavier’s toys snapped, you figured out how to mend them. You learned to see how things work.”

Frank crossed his arms. “That’s more than we can teach.”

Carl nodded. “Some folks just have the eye.”

Dad smiled. “I figured he might.”

I looked at him, startled. “…You knew?”

He laughed. “I had a suspicion. The way you rebuilt those shelves. The way you measure distances in your head without even thinking.”

Mike chuckled. “You count your steps, kid.”

I blinked. “…I do?”

“You paced off thirty-two feet earlier,” he said, grinning.

I tried to remember. “…Huh.”

Dad chuckled. “You’ve got an engineer’s brain.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. An engineer. Me? 

Dad glanced at the blueprint before rolling it up. “I wasn’t sure where to put you. Now I know.”

I swallowed. “…Where?”

He tucked the blueprint under his arm. “Estimating. You’ll learn blueprints, project planning, bidding, logistics. Frank’ll teach you the ropes.”

Frank puffed up a little. “My department. Welcome aboard.”

Dad grinned at me. “And someday, you’ll probably be teaching me.”

The whole room burst out laughing, and I joined... even though the idea was ridiculous. Me, teaching John Marrow? Still, as we walked deeper into the heart of the company, for the first time in years, I wasn’t wondering if I’d be good enough.

I was wondering just how much I could become.