“Noah has cerebral palsy. He manages with leg braces and crutches. He’s in really good shape. He’s pretty strong and nimble. But, Cal, he can’t run away if someone is after him. He’s smart and happy and otherwise healthy but he needs health care supervision, physical therapy and a medical protocol. It’s amazing how well he’s doing after just losing his mother. He has his moments,” she added with a shrug. “His grief comes through, but Owen and Romeo help so much... The thought of him going to an abusive or uncaring home, even for a day or weekend, just fills me with panic.”

“Given the facts and Erin’s meticulous planning, I think we’re going to avoid that. Let’s save the panic for later. It might not ever become an issue. Are you still planning to stay the whole summer?”

“Of course. We’ll talk about the next steps in a couple of months,” she said.

“Are you considering adoption?” Cal asked.

“I am, but I don’t want to rush Noah. I want to be sure he understands he’s not giving up his mother. I also want him to know I want him forever. Before this complication, I thought we’d just take as much time as we needed to get to that conversation. Would it help if I—”

“I doubt it would make much difference. But unless you are subpoenaed or there’s a warrant and extradition, which is almost impossible, stay here. If you need something from your house, do you have a friend who can get it for you?”

“Yes. I wasn’t planning to go back before the end of summer.”

“Good. If there’s a court willing to hear Mrs. Addison’s case for custody or visitation, we should get Mr. Tamaris to step in, given he not only represented Erin, he’d known her for a long time.”

“And the court appointed an attorney ad litem to represent Noah,” she said. “The name is in the paperwork.”

“Excellent. Give me a few minutes to copy all of this. I’ll have a conversation with Mr. Tamaris, tell him that I’ve agreed to represent you and I’ll let you know where we are in a few days. I’ll also do a background on both Roger and his mother. Meanwhile, it might be best if you told your Minneapolis contacts not to share your current whereabouts with the Addisons.”

“Oh, believe me...”

“Try not to worry,” Cal said. “If Mrs. Addison had been involved in Noah’s life from the start, if she’d filed for her rights before the court granted your guardianship, she might have a case here, but if you’ve told me everything, I can’t imagine what leverage she would have.”

“Blood,” Hannah said. “She’s using the fact that she’s his only blood relative.”

“Hannah, the family court judge generally likes to keep families together when possible, but also does not hesitate to remove children from abusive or negligent homes to put them in foster care. How is Noah’s grandmother going to care for him? Is she gainfully employed? Independently wealthy?”

“There’s a trust,” she said.

“Is it large?” Cal asked. “Substantial?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Hannah said. “When you consider what college might cost in a dozen years, when you consider any special needs he might have because of his condition, it’s probably not enough. If I didn’t have to think about Noah’s future, it would seem huge. Over a million dollars.”

Cal sat back in his chair. “Hello.”

“That’s what terrifies me,” she said. “That she could somehow get custody, get control of that trust, ignore Noah’s needs and—” She couldn’t finish. “Over the years she’s given her son a fortune to help him get out of trouble and I’m afraid that’s all she wants. Erin used to say, ‘If you met my mother, you’d like her. But she isn’t really who you think she is.’ Please help us, Cal. Noah shouldn’t have to shoulder any more disappointment. He’s been through so much.”

“Don’t worry, Hannah,” he said. “We’ve got this.”

* * *

“Have you known Cal a long time?” Hannah asked Owen.

“I met him shortly after he and Maggie married. We run into each other sometimes. He hangs out at Sully’s with his daughter and I’ve seen him on the trail a few times. And in the way of this neighborhood, I know about him. People talk about him, about being helped by him, about helping him work on that barn. And there’s this understanding among the locals that Sully, while maybe the friendliest guy around, has an uncanny instinct about people and Cal wouldn’t be married to Maggie if Sully had a bad feeling about him.”

“He made me feel so much better,” Hannah said. “Do you think he’s actually a good lawyer?”

“There’s been talk that he’s a semifamous defense attorney from Michigan,” Owen said. “Maybe we should look into that.”

“After Noah goes to bed,” she said. “How about some dueling laptops tonight?”

He pulled her close. “You really know how to turn a guy on.”

After Noah had gone to bed, Owen and Hannah sat on the couch, each holding a laptop, researching California Jones. Before long Hannah was snuggled up against Owen, staring at his screen, and he was reading aloud to her. There was a bio online that either Cal or his firm had produced that listed his degrees and licenses, then there were a couple of articles written about him that were more human interest pieces. And there was an obituary—it seemed while Cal lived and practiced law in Michigan, he had been married to a woman, also a lawyer, who developed scleroderma and died. That had been about six years ago. There were no details to describe how he managed to meet and marry Maggie Sullivan a couple of years after his first wife’s death.

There were a few newspaper pieces about seemingly impossible cases he had tried and won in Michigan but nothing newsworthy in Colorado.

“I think we should have Cal, Maggie and Elizabeth to dinner,” Hannah said. “I’d like to get to know them better and learn more about how Cal landed here.”

“A couple of years ago when we first ran into each other at Sully’s, he mentioned that once when he was going through a lot of indecision in his life, he did a lot of hiking and things started to shake into place. I told him the same had happened with me. Like men will, we got away from the emotional aspect as fast as possible and started to discuss whether the altitude was healing.”

“Like men will,” she said, just shaking her head. She ran her fingers through the longish hair at his temples. It was threaded with a little gray. No wonder Cal and Owen took to each other, seemed to be ready friends. They’d plowed their ways through difficult losses and not only survived, they’d come through very well. “I would love to have them to dinner but I can only seem to cook hamburgers and mac and cheese.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re very good with salad. Maybe you can add that. And I’ll do the rest.”

Owen took it upon himself to choose a day with Cal that Maggie would be in Timberlake so the two families could get together. Until then, Hannah and Noah were resuming their schedule—four mornings a week. Twice they would go to Aurora to the physical therapist and twice to the counselor. With Hannah and Owen continuing the PT at home the rest of the week, the therapist thought Noah was in excellent shape for his condition. And the psychologist pronounced him to be very stable for a child who had just lost a parent a few months ago. Of course, he was still dealing with grief but he was doing so in a loving family.

It was not lost on Hannah that Owen was busy in his shop when she was returning with Noah. He always made time to play—to swim, hike, throw a ball, whatever activity Noah wanted. But clearly he had work to do.

“Let me see if I can help you a little, then we’ll play,” Hannah said.

“I don’t think there’s any way for you to help, but thanks.”

“You never know,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m transferring some photos onto other mediums for a gallery—canvas, wood, glass. And I’m going to try one large transfer that I’ll do in pieces.”

“Okay, I’ll empty trash, clean up and do whatever you want me to do. Noah, come over here a little out of the way and go through your pictures or color on your computer.”

“I’ve got a couple of transfers that are dry. I’ll show you what to do and you can rub off the backings. It’s very tedious,” he said.

“Sounds like work I specialize in,” she said with a smile.

At some point while they were working, Noah went to lie down on Owen’s bed and Romeo curled around him. They both fell asleep. Hannah cautiously and meticulously rubbed the paper backing off a photo transfer onto canvas while Owen was going through photo collections on his computer. He asked her opinion a couple of times and she fearlessly gave it. Once he said, “Yes, right,” and once he said, “Nah, not that one.” Whether or not he took her advice, she was thrilled to be asked.

Later that night when they were watching the moonrise over the lake from the front porch, she told him how much she enjoyed working in his shop, helping him. “You must promise to tell me if I’m in your way and less than helpful. You’re used to working on your own without anyone else in your way.”

Then she suggested transferring one of his trees onto a tall, slim pottery vase and he loved it. The tree was black, leafless, spindly with branches like long fingers and it was stunning when finished. It was easy, inexpensive and very artsy. He signed it in black ink.

“I think I’ve been working alone just about long enough,” he said.

And, with that, Hannah took her place beside Owen in his shop, helping. Not all day, of course. She had her own chores as well as tending Noah and his regular appointments. He brought her a picture he’d drawn in his counseling session—a very tall man, a woman, a child with crutches, an enormous dog and up in the sky, above a tree, a small, smiling angel.