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however.”
    “I can do that.” She gave his face a searching look, then abruptly shut her laptop and smiled. “Want me to help you pack?”

FOUR

    One week later
    The eagle was back.
    Through the wall of windows of the great room, Cat spied the huge bird as he circled above the meadow. She grabbed her camera bag from a table beside the front door and hurried outside. Quickly, she switched to a long range lens while debating where to position herself to get the best shots.
    She scanned the valley and then the house. She’d get snowcapped mountains in the background if she shot the photos from the balcony off the master bedroom. Without hesitation, she turned around and hurried inside and up the stairs.
    Cat had explored most of Eagle’s Way since Jack left her here alone last week, but she’d stayed clear of his bedroom. Now as she entered it, she took a quick look around, noting dark woods and a peaceful palette of blues and grays and … whoa.
    She halted abruptly. A framed photograph of the two of them at their wedding sat on his dresser. Wow. Just wow. That was the last thing she would have expected to find in her ex-husband’s bedroom.
    She crossed to the dresser and picked up the photograph. How young they’d both been. How happy.
    They’d eloped to Las Vegas. He had no family and she’d never cared about having a big wedding. Presenting their marriage as a fait accompli had made it easier for them both where her mother was concerned. They’d honeymooned in a bridal suite over a long weekend and left the room only twice the entire time.
    Oh, Jack. Why couldn’t we make it work?
    Unsettled, she flipped the lock on the French doors leading out onto the balcony and tried to refocus her attention on the soaring eagle. He was a beautiful thing to watch, and once she brought her camera up and began framing shots, she was able to put the picture in Jack’s bedroom out of her mind. Mostly.
    She wanted to get a fabulous shot. She’d been inspired by the work of a wildlife photographer hanging on display at the art gallery in town, Vistas.
    Yesterday Sarah had invited her to a luncheon she’d hosted to thank everyone who’d assisted in the search for her mother. Ellen Reese had been found safe and sound the day Jack had left Eagle’s Way. At the gathering at Sarah’s bake shop, Fresh, Cat had met Sarah and Nic’s circle of friends: Celeste Blessing, the owner of Angel’s Rest Healing Center and Spa; Ali Timberlake, the owner of the Yellow Kitchen restaurant; and Sage Rafferty, professionally known as “the renowned artist Sage Anderson” and the owner of Vistas. It had been a fun, lighthearted gathering and Cat had enjoyed herself—as Cat Davenport. These friends of new friends who knew the truth could be trusted, Nic and Sarah had assured her, but it was easier and safer for everyone to think of her as Davenport.
    Easier for them
, Cat thought.
Not me
.
    When conversation turned to a painting Sage had recently completed, Cat expressed a desire to see it, and after lunch, Sage had taken her over to Vistas.
    Cat had liked all of Sage’s work very much, but forsome reason, the wildlife photographs had captivated her. One shot in particular had caught her fancy, a five-by-seven print of a nightingale perched on the limb of a cottonwood tree. She’d made a spur-of-the-moment decision to purchase it. Only after she’d paid for the photograph and was preparing to leave did she think to ask the name of the photographer. Sage had smirked a little as she told her, and Cat had felt her cheeks flush. Jack Davenport? Really?
    “I browbeat him into letting me hang his work,” Sage had told her. “I saw his photographs when my husband and I visited Eagle’s Way earlier this year. I’ve been looking for someone in that field to represent. We had a horrible incident with my previous wildlife photographer—turned out he was also into kiddie porn—so I was just thrilled to discover someone local who was also so