Hannah rose and took the child's mitten-grimy white with purple X's and O's st.i.tched across the back-up to the judge's desk.

"You'll be busy over the holidays, won't you?" she asked. Foster care placements often fell apart during the week between Christmas and New Year's. Children who'd been promised a long overdue Christmas visit from Mom or Dad went to pieces when the visit never happened. Domestic violence on Christmas Eve was second only to the mayhem on Super Bowl Sunday.

"No busier than usual." Trent remained where he was, his big briefcase on the table before him.

Hannah didn't return to the counsel table, but took a seat on the front pew, which was about as cold and uncomfortable as a place to sit could be.

"Where does this leave us, Trent? I know you are unhappy because I don't like being a lawyer and you do. I suspect you're still angry because I didn't tell you about foster care or Grace's father, and those are serious problems. I'm sorry for my part in them, but if you can't be civil to me, then just admit it, and I'll give you as much s.p.a.ce as I can."

He sat beside her when Hannah expected him to get up and walk away.

"It's not as simple as you not liking to be a lawyer," he said. "I've trained new attorneys before, and everyone goes through a period of disillusionment. Usually, I can be enough moral support that a balanced perspective results. In your case..."

"In my case?"

"How can we become more, become closer as people, when you've gone through what you have, and I have no intention of changing my job? I love what I do, Hannah. I go home every night knowing somebody's life is better because I was a good lawyer. Somebody gets to see more of their kids, even if they don't get custody. Somebody gets a lighter fine and has more money left to pay the bills. Somebody gets into rehab because I tell them their case requires it. The work I do matters to me."

"I'm listening," she said, pushing his hair back over his ear, possibly for the last time.

"I can't reconcile what I do with who you are, Hannah. How can I expect you to continue to work with a system that almost took your child?" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "You can't do it, Hannah. I know you that well, and you can't."

"So if I can't love your legal system, I can't love you?"

He stared at the empty judge's bench for a long moment, while Hannah marveled at what she'd just admitted to him.

Cross-examination was h.e.l.l.

"Trent, I don't have any answers right now. I have a rattled daughter and an aching heart, also two parents who doubtless want a place in my life. I can't fall in love with the American system of justice, and I don't want to."

She went silent, drawing in a breath at what she'd almost said: I don't want to fall out of love with you.

But Trent could hear only the words she spoke aloud.

"You can transfer to corporate in the spring, Hannah, but it won't solve anything. Tee times can still drive dockets; some days attorneys are more interested in their gossip than their cases; and other days, the best judge can come down with a migraine. Sooner or later, if I'm what's keeping you tied to the practice of law, you will hate me. I could not abide that."

Maybe he was talking himself into dumping her, or talking her into dumping him. Either way, Hannah didn't like the verdict.

"Trenton Knightley, you are deciding a lot of things based on incomplete information. I have said I won't leave you in the lurch, and I am not your former wife, to go merrily on my way when we hit some rough sailing. I am not close to many people, but I'm loyal as h.e.l.l to the few people I have, and that, too, is a result of spending years in foster care."

He took her hand. "You need to know something."

She needed to know a lot of things, like how to pay the bills after she'd finished serving her sentence as a domestic relations attorney. Like how to mend a heart she'd thought couldn't ever break again, because she wasn't merely loyal to Trent Knightley, she was in love with the guy.

"Just tell me, Trent. As long as Grace is OK, I can cope." Having Trent's hand to hold helped too.

"Anonymous calls provoked the Department's attempt to shelter Grace," he said. "Yesterday afternoon, I got one of those anonymous calls from a woman who claimed that Gerald Matthews set you up with DSS. She gave me the times he'd called Child Protective Services, and described what he'd threatened that kid Larry with to get him to pick on Grace. I didn't ask for details beyond that, and she a.s.sured me Gerald wouldn't be bothering you again."

Hannah slid over so she could lean against Trent. "Gerald did this me? Did this to Grace?" Did this to the Knightleys too, and most especially to Trent. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"The story doesn't end there. Mac was listening to the scanner last night, and a team of EMTs responded to a call from a convenience store downtown. Gerald was in the alley out behind the store, having suffered multiple contusions, as the saying goes. The EMTs did a routine drug test. It seems Gerald's family will put him into rehab somewhere on the West Coast, once he's out of the hospital." Trent's arm came around Hannah's shoulders. "You still OK?"

"Multiple contusions?"

"Several possible fractures, including the middle fingers of both hands, which Mac says is some kind of gang signature. The alley was dark, and Gerald never saw his attackers. Maybe there's bad karma in store for people who abuse their anonymous calling privileges."

Which Gerald had apparently done in spades. "Will he return to the practice of law?"

"No, Stark, he will never return to the practice of law. Your own dear mother threw him upon the mercy of the ethics folks at the state bar a.s.sociation. She learned he'd been, ah, bartering his legal services for retainers of a variety we won't mention in these hallowed halls. h.e.l.l hath no fury like the legal system when one of its own breaks bad."

Trent had called her Stark, and he'd kissed Hannah's temple.

She kissed his cheek. "This is the nicest Christmas present you could possibly have given me." And he'd already given her so many.

Trent held her hand when he walked her out to her car and waited while she stashed her briefcase in the backseat. He had afternoon cases, while Hannah did not.

"Are we OK, Trent?"

"What are you doing Christmas Day?"

Not a yes. "I'm stuffing wrapping paper into the woodstove, probably watching Rudolph and Garfield for the zillionth time. I should ask Louise and Dan if they have plans." She also needed to thank her mother for her judicial activism.

Maybe Hannah should call them Mom and Dad? Another lovely Christmas present, and yet, Hannah needed Trenton Knightley for Christmas too-for the rest of her life.

"Let's plan a playdate for the girls, and you and I will talk further. Don't worry, Stark. I'm loyal to the people I love too."

He kissed Hannah a right smacker on the mouth, there in the courthouse parking lot. He loved her, and he'd said so. The joy of that gift was infinite and scary and wonderful, and yet, as Hannah drove back to the office, she did worry.

"Disney Studios should be named in the will of every single parent," Trent said. "What are you having? I have Earl Grey, green tea with jasmine, hot chocolate, some orange and clove stuff that Mac's partial to, this blackberry hibiscus woo-woo concoction, and peppermint."

Hannah sat at his kitchen table in jeans and a green V-neck sweater, while Trent babbled about tea to stop himself from kissing her.

"Peppermint will do. What are the girls watching?"

For all he knew, they were watching King Kong Versus G.o.dzilla.

"Yet another princess, I'm sure. Mac tried to get Merle interested in The Quiet Man, but once the horse race was over, she fell asleep."

"Shouldn't you be in the office?" Hannah asked.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Stark?" They'd spoken by phone every day since the Christmas break had started, but Hartman and Whitney had the d.a.m.nable policy of giving the employees the week between Christmas and New Year's off. The accountant had come up with that bright idea, and it meant the partners manned the oars over the holidays.

"James and Mac say I should be with Merle over Christmas," Trent replied, "and they're right."

"They are. I'd have Merle over tomorrow, but Grace and I are going into the school to talk about a peer mediation session with the guidance counselors. Larry's mom asked for it."

The tea water began to boil, the kettle whistling as Trent got down two mugs-Pooh and Eeyore.

"You'll subject Grace to a confrontation?" he asked. "After what that little creep put her through? What do you hope to accomplish?"

He and Hannah needed to confront a few issues, such as the fact that she was walking away from a profession that desperately needed her skills. Trent couldn't help but see that as a step away from him too.

"I'll see if my daughter is interested in attempting nonviolent conflict resolution, Trent. It's a novel concept. Popped up after the ducking stool and trial by ordeal went out of fashion. It can also involve courtrooms and judges and juries. People need to solve their problems without bloodshed if they can, and most schools have peer mediation programs as a result. You don't like the idea?"

She thought advocacy wasn't her calling? Trent poured the boiling water in the mugs and nearly scalded his knuckles in the process.

"Don't be obtuse, but what will having two kids talk accomplish?" Trent asked.

"Here is what the counselor told me: the schools encourage kids to solve their own problems in a peer mediation format. Merle probably got the same raft of paperwork in her backpack on this stuff as Grace did."

Trent dunked two peppermint tea bags into the mugs, recalling something about school mediation, but what dad kept track of everything that came home in the grubby confines of the almighty backpack?

"Larry knows he's done something really, really wrong, and he feels bad about it," Hannah went on. "He and Grace will share a playground, possibly for the next several years. He wants to apologize, and he wants to explain to Grace that Gerald threatened to kill his dog if he didn't push her around."

"He more than pushed her around."

"And we know Gerald would have at least killed the boy's dog, don't we?"

For that alone, twenty years in jail was less than Gerald deserved-Gerald, whom Trent had hired.

"Grace wants to make sure Larry wasn't picking on her because of something she did," Hannah explained. "She wants to feel safe, and she wants to make sure Larry knows he caused a very big problem. I think Grace should tell the little booger off. She's too reticent, or she used to be. What is wrong with this happening with the a.s.sistance of a trained counselor?"

Trent stared at the two steaming teacups, the scent of peppermint wafting to his nose. "Nothing."

Was there a peer mediation program for lawyers whose views of the courthouse could not be more opposed?

"It's complete information, Trent. Two people who have different parts of a story fitting them together to solve a problem. Judge Stevens mentioned this at Grace's hearing, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. It's basic to problem solving, and on my worst day, I will still admit the legal system tries to solve problems for people."

He squirted agave nectar into both mugs, though he didn't want Hannah throwing him a bone. The legal system was flawed, true, but every human system, from the family to the interstate highways, was flawed.

Hannah came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. "I don't want Grace to grow up the way I did, thinking she has to solve every problem on her own. I want her to know she can make friends and allies, that she doesn't have to face every battle as if it's single combat."

When had Hannah initiated an embrace? Trent tried to think back but was too befuddled by the pleasure of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his back. He turned and wrapped his arms around her.

"You're not alone now, Stark. You have me. I can't accept that your law degree is so much effort and money wasted, though. You have a legal mind, you get the issues, you could fit in almost anywhere in the company, and when you do go to court-"

"When I go to court, I get the uh-oh feeling," Hannah said. "I hate the uh-oh feeling, and you can't argue me past it. I get mad, cranky, and very oppositional when I'm trying to avoid the uh-oh feeling. I'd rather be smart and helpful, or smart and creative, or smart and-"

Insight clobbered Trent between one nibble on his chin and the next. Hannah wasn't afraid of messy problems. Her entire childhood had been one big messy problem, and she'd waded through it. Adulthood had presented more problems for her, and she'd dealt with those too. Lawyers solved problems, but not all lawyers solved problems in courtrooms.

He kissed the daylights out of her, sat her up on the counter, and kissed her some more.

"Can you watch the girls for a while?" Trent asked.

"Of course."

"I need to pop into the office, and then, Stark, we're having a sleepover."

"Bring home pizza," Hannah said, a slow smile illuminating her features. "Black olives and pepperonis are fine, but no dead fish."

"And no pineapple."

Trent did not kiss her again, lest he be late for an important, as yet unscheduled partner's meeting. He found James and Mac in the office kitchen, making popcorn and looking lonely.

"We're smart guys, right?" Trent said, tossing his jacket and briefcase on a table. "Good at coming up with creative solutions to life's hardest problems."

"So smart we're in here, while our loyal minions are all home, sleeping off excesses of fruitcake and wa.s.sail," Mac said. "Which you ought to be too."

"I have more important things to do." Trent got a hand on each brother's nape and propelled them toward the chairs at the nearest table. "I'm calling a meeting of the partners, right now, and you two geniuses had better be listening, because I have a proposal to make."

"Does Hannah know about this proposal?" James asked, snagging the popcorn while Trent pushed him along.

"No, but if you two like it, she'll know soon."

"You've heard of Alternative Dispute Resolution," Mac said. "We've been sending parents to custody mediation for years, but now all the big firms are trying to get in on the action. Mediation and collaborative law are the family law faces of ADR, but in the criminal arena, we're seeing victim-offender conferencing, and in the corporate world, mediation and arbitration have become standard contract clauses to head off litigation wherever possible."

Mac and his opening arguments. Hannah looked across the conference table to Trent for some clue regarding the meeting's agenda, but his expression gave away nothing.

"What has this to do with me?"

"District Court is clogged with petty squabbles between neighbors," Mac went on. "Barking dogs, encroaching tree limbs, and landlord-tenant disputes. The judges would kill to have a civil mediation resource available to sort out the cases truly in need of judicial attention."

"We think it's time we had a collaborative law and ADR department," James said. "It's a market opportunity, and the good old boys and girls practicing out here in G.o.d's country don't see it staring them in the face. We're willing to put some effort into being the first on the block to have this service, this resource, in as many areas of law as possible. We figure if we're good enough, the DC and Baltimore cases will come out here because we can be much cheaper and more responsive than anything available to them in the city."

Some of the firms Hannah had temped at had these capabilities-or some of them-but those were big companies with deep pockets.

While the Knightleys had big hearts.

For the first time in weeks, Hannah felt a fluttering of hope that her law school education might not have been the biggest mistake of her life. She again looked to Trent, but he was flipping his tie while Mac was still holding forth.

"The judges are meeting in January to decide which firm will get the bulk of their family mediation cases, and Trent says we already have the inside track, because he typically sends his a.s.sociates to at least eighty hours of mediation training in their first year. Lee and Ann are both already up to speed, as is Trent."

"I have some of that training," Hannah said. "I took negotiation and arbitration in law school because it interested me, but they offered only the basic forty-hour mediation course."

"We've scheduled you for advanced mediation training in January," James said. "In case you're interested."

"Interested?" Why wouldn't Trent look at her?

"In the position," Mac said. "We could advertise, but you're a known quant.i.ty, you have excellent academic credentials, and we run a family business. So what do you think?"

"Of what?"

James smiled the way Grace would have smiled if Santa Claus had brought her a pony.

"We're offering you the newly created position of head of the Alternative Dispute Resolution Department, Hannah. You'll have to build your practice from the ground up, choose your staff carefully, and work long hours to make it profitable, but you were highly recommended for the position."