Steve curled his fingers into tight fists. Was that an observation—or had his wife talked to Charley about the circumstances of Jonathan’s death? Filled him in on more than the facts everyone knew—that he’d died from a congenital coronary artery defect on a father-son hiking trip to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and that his grieving parents had separated eight weeks later?

Why not feel the man out, see how much he knew? Perhaps even seek a bit of advice. Charley often had a few nuggets of wisdom to offer, whatever the subject.

“I haven’t talked to Beth in a while. Her choice—and I can’t blame her.” Steve checked on Noah. The boy was on the other side of the room, intent on his work, and the music would mask a quiet conversation. “She wanted to give Jonathan an immersive art experience for graduation. I insisted on a father-son Grand Canyon trip. A strenuous hike in the heat of summer.” He shook his head in disgust.

“From what I understood, no one knew he had heart issues.”

“That’s true. But I knew what was in his heart—art, not athletics. The trip was for me, not him. Jonathan went because he always tried to make both of us proud—and happy.” Steve’s voice choked, and he picked up his coffee, willing his vision to clear.

“If you had it to do over, would you plan such a trip again?”

At Charley’s quiet question, he looked at the man. “Of course not.”

“Sometimes the most important lessons we learn are the hardest.”

“But what’s the point in learning them if it’s too late?”

“Is it?”

“Jonathan’s gone.”

“Other people can benefit from your change of heart, though. Like Noah—and Beth.”

Steve let out a slow breath. “I won’t disagree with you about Noah. Beth’s a different story. I haven’t been able to breach the wall between us. Her anger and hurt and grief go too deep.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“She wants space, not conversation. But I’ve sent notes and cards on a regular basis.”

“Powerful as words can be, you know what they say about actions.”

Steve gave a helpless shrug. “What else can I do? She asked me to keep my distance while she thinks about what she wants going forward, and I’ve tried to respect her wishes. If I show up at her door, she’ll probably kick me out.”

“You never know. People’s perspectives can change—and she’s not in a position to do any kicking right now anyway.” Charley picked up a small, half-finished seascape that was leaning against the wall at his feet and examined it.

Steve frowned at the man’s odd comment. “What does that mean?”

“I wish I could figure out why this painting isn’t working.” Charley angled the canvas toward him. “What’s missing here?”