and when she glanced at Sean, she saw that his scowl had deepened, which she knew meant he was working hard to suppress his curiosity.
“Oh, how darling,” she said. “Sean, look! It’s a baby owl!”
Sean moved dramatically away, sighing to communicate his boredom. But he remained angled, so that he could still glimpse the little bird out of the corners of his eyes.
Of course he was fascinated. How could he not be?
The owl was so cute Nora had to laugh. About six inches long, it fit neatly in the palm of Logan’s large hand.
And then the hand itself was almost too much of a distraction. It was definitely not a rancher’s hand, with its graceful, long lines. She was surprised to see the elegant fingers tipped in calluses.
Sean made an impatient sound as he toyed with the instruments on the counter.
“I thought,” he said, “that you weren’t supposed to let them see people much, so that they don’t imprint on humans.”
Nora gave her son a hard look, and she was glad to see that he flushed, obviously aware that his tone had been out of bounds. What made him think he could teach Logan his own business?
“Been reading up?” Logan nodded, as if he approved. “You’re right. For a baby, we’d have to wear the puppet, or even the whole outfit. But Gulliver here isn’t a baby. He’s a fully grown Eastern screech owl, and unfortunately somebody already let him imprint on humans before he got to us.”
“But he’s so small,” Nora said. “He’s fully grown?”
“I know.” Logan scratched the side of the bird’s head. The owl seemed quite content to lounge in his hand, blinking its large, shiny eyes at him sleepily. “They don’t get much bigger than this. And they don’t screech, either. Weird, huh?”
Sean was no longer pretending not to watch. His hands were fisted at chest level, as if he had to force himself not to reach out and touch the intricately patterned feathers.
Nora met Logan’s gaze over her son’s head. She wondered if he knew how embarrassed she was by Sean’s behavior.
Or how worried.
But she couldn’t read anything in Logan’s blue eyes except a polite patience.
“I should probably get going,” she said.
She should. She had a million things to do, and she was postponing the moment when Sean would have to adjust. Maybe, when the safety net that Mommy provided was gone, he’d settle down and behave.
If he didn’t, she knew it wouldn’t be long before Logan kicked his surly attitude out of here. Two Wings wasn’t occupational therapy for bratty boys. This was, as she’d observed earlier, a mission.
Logan Cathcart cared about this place and these birds. He wouldn’t waste much time on a nasty kid who didn’t understand that.
So she needed to let them get to work.
She moved toward the door.
“I’ll be back at eleven, Sean, all right?” She put her hand on the knob.
“I guess.” Sean stood stiffly.
She opened the door, looking over her shoulder. To her surprise, Logan was watching her, his hand gently holding the ball of fluff in place on the scale.
When she hesitated, his eyes softened, and he nodded briefly. The gesture was oddly comforting.
It’ll be okay, that nod seemed to say. I’ll take care of him.
She might be imagining it. God knew she’d imagined a lot of things about Logan Cathcart over the past eighteen months. Things that weren’t real, and never would be.
But, as she let the door shut behind her and made her way back to the parking lot, she realized she felt a whole lot better anyhow.
SEAN’S FIRST WEEK was a disaster.
It was a battle to get him to Two Wings every time. He complained bitterly, inventing a hundred obstacles. A test he absolutely had to study for. A blistered finger. An extra Little League practice.
Somehow, Nora held her ground, though when she presented him to Vic Downing, who seemed to have taken over nanny duty, she felt as if she were handing off a piece of dynamite, set to blow at any minute.
She never saw Logan, though she would have liked to thank him, and get his read on Sean’s chances of settling in.
Logan’s absence had to be deliberate. She assumed he didn’t want to have to say things that would hurt her. And he didn’t want to have to lie.
Every day when she picked Sean up, then drove him home in sour silence, she expected a call from Logan before the night was over.
He might try to gloss it over, if he felt kind. He might create some excuse that didn’t sound as if he were rejecting her son.
Or maybe he’d just tell it straight. They couldn’t handle Sean’s tempers or his arrogance.
Either way, she couldn’t blame him. Sean’s behavior had never been worse. He obviously hated the menial tasks Logan assigned him, and he resented being bossed around by the senior volunteers.
But, amazingly, the call never came.
The following Monday, when the boys were at school, she headed into town to proof the programs she’d designed for Jolie’s spring concert.
Because Harrison had insisted she stay at home with the boys instead of working, Nora had always been vigorously involved with the PTA. Over the years, she’d become fairly decent at designing flyers, newsletters, brochures and concert programs. The other parents considered her the go-to person for such things, and she welcomed the creative outlet.
Jasper’s was the only printer in Eastcreek proper, so she knew she might have to wait in line.
But she hadn’t expected to see Logan Cathcart standing at the counter.
She spotted him through the window as she fed the parking meter. In the past, she probably would have walked on by, and come back for the programs another time. Avoid those butterflies, whenever possible.
But she’d waited too long to find him, to thank him for giving Sean a chance. She pushed open the door. The tinkling sound of the bell caused both Logan and Jasper, who were studying something on the counter, to look up.
“Hi, Jasper,” she said. And then there were the butterflies, right on cue. She took a breath and smiled. “Hi, Logan.”
Though Logan smiled back, he looked oddly tense. She advanced toward the counter, telling herself not to take it personally. She didn’t know what had put that stiffness in his posture. It might have nothing to do with either her or Sean. Maybe something had gone wrong with his print order.
“You here to proof the programs, Nora?” Jasper, ordinarily the most laid-back of men, looked a bit distracted, too.
“That’s
