My phone rang just as I climbed into my car. Christoph. He wasn't happy.

"Where are you?"

"Just getting out."

"Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"Meetings," I lied. I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.

"I tried your office phone and left a message with your pitbull."

"Please don't call her–"

"Your secretary. Are you going to Linny's game? You said you'd be home early enough to ride with us to the game. I don't know what good being an attorney is if you can't set your own hours."

"Shoot." I didn't think I'd said it loud enough for him to hear.

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot."

"Nope. I'm on my way. Kessle Field. Be there in just a few."

"Camden."

"Who?"

"The game's at Camden Park."

I grimaced and turned my blinker on to make a u-turn. "That's what I meant. Camden. I'm on my way."

"Daddy?" Andilynn's high-pitched, six-year-old voice was in my ear.

"Hey, Linny. Did you have a good day at school?"

"It was school, Daddy. Are you coming to my game?"

"I sure am, sweetheart. I'm on my way."

"Okay."

The phone went dead.

I had spent most of the afternoon researching heavy metal exposure and cleanup, and I still couldn't quit thinking about it. Hegle had laughed aloud when I mentioned Sinclair's name and then asked if I had been invited to the barbeque of the century. He hadn't liked Sinclair's hyperactive personality, but he had pointed me in the direction of some resources he thought might help. When I asked if he was available to assist, he laughed again and asked how I was going to get the penny-pinchers to agree to that. I told him I'd bring him in as a consultant on my dime and bill it back to the residents without a mark-up. I had also found some news I couldn't wait to share with Sinclair. I just didn't think I'd be sharing it so soon.

I was still thinking about Sinclair's matter when I got to the game. Linny was chasing after a brightly colored ball in a cluster of squealing six-year-old girls. I admired her determination to steal the ball, unsure whether the two-handed shove was legal or not, but enjoying her spark and sparkle. If I didn't know Linny better, I might have thought Christoph had put the glittering headband on her to blind the competition, but Linny had a style of her own. Anything with glitter was fair game, and opening her closet was like turning a light on a disco ball. Rainbows everywhere.

Christoph had wedged himself amid the "in" group of moms where I knew he pictured himself the rose among poppies. Dressed to the nines and laughing over some joke in the crowd, I couldn't tell which glowed more, his joyful smile or his polished Oxfords. When my people were happy, I was happy, but schmoozing with the in-crowd really wasn't my thing. In my opinion, a good soccer game is one played in the rain.

My phone went off in my pocket as I angled up the bleachers toward Christoph who had slid closer to one of his neighbors and was patting the bench for me. The call was an unknown number, and if Wellington's words from this morning weren't still ringing in my ear, I would have ignored it.

"Hello?"

"Trev! It's me, Dave. Listen. I talked to my neighbors and–"

My phone slipped. Christoph was tugging on my arm and I fumbled to catch my phone before I lost it under the bleachers.

"Look! Look! Look!" He was pointing to the field. Linny was battling for a ball at the centerline.

I waved Christoph off and brought the phone back to my ear.

"–money to do that," Sinclair finished.

"About that," I said. "I think I have some good news for you. Your island isn't one of the recorded conservation easements."

"What's that mean?"

"It's not officially protected as a wetlands area. Oh! And Tri-County is going to help us out with–"

"Tri-County! Wow, yeah, that sounds great. But did you just hear me? We can't afford Tri-County and you to–"

Christoph jumped up, crushing my foot, and clapping wildly with the crowd. Linny was running past the net with her forefinger in the air and looked right as us. Bad news. How was I going to tell her I'd missed her very first goal ever? I pinned the phone to my ear and clapped along with everyone else, but she had already turned to get set for kickoff, and my heart sank. I needed to work on my superhero status at home.

"Hold up!" I interrupted Sinclair, gave Christoph my best look of regret, which wasn't forged but earned a glare anyway, and stepped off the bleachers. "Listen, Tri-County is the best in the area for planning the sort of clean-up you need to do. The residents need them. And it's going to be expensive. Really expensive. And there's really no way around it. But, look, I did some–"

"We can't. I guess we'll just have to scrap the–" Sinclair started, but I didn't let him finish.

"–research, and I found a grant." I paused. The phone was quiet on the other end, and I wondered if Sinclair had hung up. I even pulled my phone from my ear to check the display. "I'm going to send you a link. It's called the 'Williams Watersports Endowment For Cleanup.' It's a local grant. And I think there will be enough money to clean up a lot of the lake, maybe even turn that island into a park for the lake association members. I've already started working on writing the grant proposal, but there are a few questions I need answers to. When can we meet?"

When I hung up the phone, I opened my billing app and typed a few keys before I met Christoph's glare head-on. I was probably going to be snubbed for the rest of the game, but I was riding the high of a happy client and another half hour of billable time. Take that, Wellington.

Later that evening, I was reading Linny a bedtime story when my phone chirped with a Twitter notification.

"You got a message, daddy," Linny said, holding her hand over the words in the book. "It could be important."

"It's just a tweet, honey. I can read it later."

"Can I see?" The queen of stalling the bedtime routine strikes again.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, and we read the message together.

"@TrevEnviroLaw rocks! Found Lake Henry peeps a grant to clean up pollutants and make a park too! Call him!!"