Page 19 of Unforgotten

Ryan could hear a smile in his father’s voice. “And one thing led to another?” he asked as he sat down on the barstool next to the kitchen counter.

“No. One thing led to my roommate taking her to a mixer. That led to me getting jealous enough to ask her out.”

“And the rest is history.”

“Darn right.” He lowered his voice. “That’s why, Ryan, when I tell you to keep an open mind, it’s good advice. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I guess you do. But Candace isn’t the one.”

“Her name is Candace, hmm? That’s a pretty name.”

“Like I said, she’s young. And she’s hiding something too.” Then there was the certain feeling he had about her that had nothing to do with his job or her adorableness and everything to do with her secrets.

“Of course she’s hiding something.”

Again, he was surprised. His father usually talked fish and football. Not love and romance. “Why do you sound like that’s not a bad thing?”

“Because everyone hides things, son. Especially with someone new.”

“True.”

“And if she’s not the one, someone else will be.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be patient and keep your eyes open. It’ll happen.”

“Dad, I don’t know when you became Dear Abby, but I have to tell you that you’re pretty good.”

“If you’d listened to me when you were fifteen, it would’ve saved you a lot of grief.”

Ryan had loved pushing boundaries back then. Every other weekend he’d been grounded—and forced to cleanhis father’s fishing boat. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to let you go. Love you, Dad.”

“Always, son. Always and no matter what.”

Ryan hung up with a lump in his throat. He was a lucky man. Blessed to have wonderful parents. True role models. But it wasn’t easy hoping to measure up to them. Their bar was set far too high to reach easily.

Moments later when he stepped outside onto his front porch, some of his neighbors were out walking. Others were working on their flower beds. His yard looked pretty spartan in comparison.

Thinking he needed a project to keep him occupied when he wasn’t working, he went into the garage and found a shovel, determined to expand the flower bed in front of his bay windows. But when he dug the shovel in, the ground barely gave way; it felt like he was digging into cement.

It seemed he had a lot to learn about his new town—the soil and the people.

After a few more haphazard attempts, he propped the shovel on the side of the house and sat down on the front step. He had big plans for a future in this house and in this town. He just hoped he could make a go of it.

When a woman about his father’s age walked by with her dog, she paused. “Hi there, Officer Mulaney. How are you?”

He stood up. “I’m just fine. And you?”

“Me and Trixi are out for our morning constitutional.” She chuckled. “Do you need anything? Are you eating?”

His neighbors had all brought him coffee cakes and lasagnas when he’d moved in. “Yes, ma’am. I’m eating plenty. Don’t need a thing.”

“We’re glad you’re here. Don’t be a stranger, hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a wave of her hand, she started walking again.

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