“I thought it’d be best if the boy wasn’t around when we hashed out the details.” Ryan tightened his grip on her arm as they navigated the steps to the front porch.
“You didn’t want him traumatized by the yelling and screaming?” Meg said with a wry smile.
“I’m not anticipating any of that.” Ryan reached around her to press the doorbell. “You and Cole are rational adults who want only what’s best for Charlie. Having you two at each other’s throats would only increase the child’s stress.”
Meg had to grudgingly agree. Although the image of being at Cole’s throat did hold a certain appeal.
Meg pressed her hand against her thigh as the wind whipped at her wool skirt. Thankfully she had tights and boots on today as well as a heavy sweater. “I’ve been looking for an apartment.”
Ryan’s finger jabbed the doorbell again before casting a curious glance her way. “How’s that going?”
“Could be better.” Meg wrapped her arms around herself for extra warmth. “Even the dumps are expensive.”
The attorney punched the doorbell and chuckled. “Welcome to Jackson Hole.”
A brisk breeze slapped Meg in the face. She shivered. “Are you sure Cole is home?”
“I called him on my way here. His knee has really been hurting him.” A frown furrowed Ryan’s brow. “I hope he didn’t fall.”
Remembering Cole’s unsteady gait and his determination to push his limits back in Ryan’s office made losing his balance a definite possibility. Meg’s heart picked up speed. “Since he knew we were coming, perhaps he left the door unlocked.”
She grasped the ornate door handle with her gloved hand and pushed. It opened easily. A flood of escaping warmth washed over them. She hurried inside with Ryan on her heels.
“Cole, are you okay?” Ryan called out, slipping off his cap and stuffing it into the pocket of his coat.
“Just moving a little slow this morning.” Cole hobbled into view on his crutches, the brace on his right knee. He’d ditched the suit he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him for running pants and a blue long-sleeved cotton shirt.
Meg let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She told herself her racing heart didn’t have a thing to do with him. It was simply that as a rehabilitation professional she saw the signs of a man in considerable pain and facing a long road to recovery.
Slipping off her parka, she placed it in Ryan’s outstretched hand before refocusing on Cole. “Have you been doing your exercises?”
“Exercises?” Ryan scoffed. “The guy can barely get around.”
“It’s important he starts strengthening his quads right away.” Although Margaret now spent her time working primarily with stroke patients, her first job had been at a sports-medicine clinic.
Cole’s chin lifted in a defiant tilt. “It’s been a busy week.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Margaret’s experienced gaze took in everything from the way Cole was standing to the lines of strain around his eyes. “Do you have a CPM machine?”
“What’s that?” Ryan asked Margaret, closing the closet door and picking up the briefcase he’d set on the marble floor.
“Hey, I’m right here,” Cole said a bit gruffly. “If you have anything to ask about my rehabilitation, ask me. Why ask her?”
“Because she’s the professional,” Ryan said.
When Margaret saw the blank look on Cole’s face she realized he had no clue what she did to earn a living, any more than she knew how he could afford a place as expensive as this one.
“I’m a physical therapist,” she said. “I’ve worked with my share of sports injuries. I’m guessing you had an ACL reconstruction. The surgery was somewhere between five and seven days ago—”
“Five.” Cole exhaled a breath. “Right before I left to come here.”
“And the doctor let you fly?” Margaret didn’t even try to keep the surprise from her voice. Most patients were told not to get on a plane for the first two weeks.
“I didn’t see another option,” Cole said. “I heard the news about Janae and Ty right after I’d gotten out of surgery. I wanted to be here for the funeral. Pay my respects.”
His eyes met hers and something unexpected passed between them. She saw her own pain reflected in his and for the first time she realized they shared a common sorrow. In that horrific crash on Route 22, both had lost dear friends.
“I understand,” Margaret said softly. Recent surgery wouldn’t have kept her away, either. “But I’m sure the doctor emphasized the first week is the most difficult and a critical time for—”
“He said a lot of things.” Cole maneuvered himself into a nearby chair and gestured for them to take a seat. “But we’re here today to talk about Charlie and his needs, not mine.”
Margaret stepped into the large family room, instantly taking note of the hardwood floor and the number of rugs scattered throughout the room.
Safety hazards. She frowned. If he was her patient, the rugs would all come up until he was steadier on his feet. But he wasn’t her patient, so she kept her mouth shut. She contented herself with admiring the rest of the house before taking a seat on a burgundy leather sofa.
From what she could see, the kitchen off to her right held granite countertops and pewter-colored appliances. Over to her left was a study with French doors, and straight ahead a large stone fireplace with shelves of books on both sides.
Despite being a large home, the place had a surprisingly homey feel. It was easy for Margaret to see Charlie playing with his plastic dinosaurs in front of a roaring fire or running up and down the staircase. Or God forbid, sliding down the banister.
But for Cole and his limitations, this home had to be a nightmare.
“How are you managing the stairs?” The question popped out of Meg’s mouth before she could stop it.
“I’m not.” Cole repositioned his leg on the ottoman by picking it up and moving it with both hands. “Thankfully everything Charlie and I will need is on this level.”
“You’re not driving yet.” It was a comment, not a question.
“I’ve found a good car service,” Cole said. “Very responsive.”
She wondered if he planned to use the car service to transport Charlie to school. Had he even begun to consider any of the dozens of things that had to be done to keep a household running? Duties and tasks which required two fully functioning legs? “I can’t imagine how you’ll manage—”
“How’s the apartment hunting coming?” he asked, cutting her off.
“It’s coming.” Margaret straightened in her seat and smoothed her plaid skirt with the palm of one hand. “I expect to find a place any day now.”
He smiled and it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds. “If anyone will try to make this work it will be you.”
A compliment? From Cole? Startled, Margaret wasn’t sure how to respond.
Thankfully Ryan stepped into the conversational void.
“We can get into those specifics in a bit.” The attorney lifted his briefcase onto the log-and-glass coffee table. “I’d first like to know what your respective attorneys had to say about the enforceability of the joint-custody stipulation in the will.”