“But I should have—”
“Don’t suppose you want to get married, do you?”
Lesley seemed taken aback at first, but then a smile spread across her face.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
EPILOGUE
Rob returned the silver tray to the buffet table. With the small number of guests at the intimate affair, it had not taken him long to distribute the groom’s cake. Lesley was still moving among the tables with a tray piled high with slivers of white cake. Rob smiled broadly. Even after the ceremony and an excruciatingly long photo session, the sight of Lesley in her gown still made him stare in wonderment.
“It’s too much,” Shayna said.
He turned to find her at his elbow. She practically glowed in a peach maid-of-honor’s dress.
“What’s too much?” he said.
“This.”
She opened her clutch purse and pulled out a pair of plane tickets. Boston to Nassau, return. Four nights, all-inclusive.
“Lesley said this was your doing.”
Rob grinned at her. “Did I mention you look positively radiant today?”
“Don’t change the subject. Just because we’re almost family now don’t mean I can’t box you round the ears if I need to. Now you two can’t afford this sort of thing. You got a wedding to pay for.”
“You helped give us our life back. We could send you on a trip every week for the rest of your life and it wouldn’t be enough.”
Shayna leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Lesley’s a lucky girl,” she said.
“Now that I happen to agree with.”
“But there’s one thing you better understand.”
Shayna had a hand on one hip and her head cocked at a don’t-mess-with-me angle.
“When the two of you start poppin’ babies, I’m the first one gets to hold them. Okay, after the proud momma and papa, and maybe after the grandparents, but that’s it. Then it’s me. And I’m going to hold you personally responsible for that.”
Rob laughed. “It’s a deal.”
She gave him a wink and wandered off into the crowd.
Rob started to head for Lesley, but Stan Dysart caught up with him first.
“Welcome to the family,” Dysart said, shaking Rob’s hand.
“Thanks.”
“It was a beautiful ceremony. All the hustling the ladies did over the last few weeks paid off.”
“Yeah, it was a push,” Rob said, “but after everything Lesley and I went through, we didn’t feel like waiting.”
“Can’t say I blame you.”
“So are things back to normal at the bank yet?”
Dysart grimaced. “I don’t even know what normal means anymore, but enough of our customers stuck with us so it looks like we’ll be okay.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Are you sure you won’t consider coming back to the bank?”
“I’ll do all right where I am,” Rob said. “It’s only a small consulting company, but we’ve got potential.”
“That’s too bad. I still think you could have a great career in banking.”
“There was a day when that sort of offer would have been impossible to resist,” Rob said, “but now it feels like it’s time to stand on my own.”
Dysart shrugged as if to say: Can’t blame a guy for trying.
“One thing still bugs me, though,” Rob said. “That FBI agent — Steeves — he called me a couple of weeks ago. They found out the guy who kidnapped me was named Landry. Used to work for the CIA.”
“Really?” Dysart said.
“Yeah, but they have no idea who hired him.”
“Oh, you can’t worry about that sort of thing,” Dysart said. “Just be happy it’s all over.”
He put an arm around Rob’s shoulders and started walking him toward the others.
“After all,” Dysart said, “you’re with your family and friends now.”
The walk from the bus stop winded the old man. His pace had slowed considerably by the time he left the sidewalk and entered the cemetery. He plodded with grim determination, though, along the paved drive and across the grassy expanse covered with gravestones, careful never to tread on any space directly in front of a stone. When he reached his destination, Eldon Whitlock placed a small bundle of flowers on Tim’s grave.
This was Eldon’s first visit since the funeral. Knowing that Tim would have attended the wedding today was hard for him to bear. After much restless pacing in the desolate apartment, Eldon had donned his overcoat and ended up here.
He stared at the tombstone as a chilly breeze riffled through what remained of his hair. The dates inscribed on the stone’s surface increased the ache inside. No one should have to die at such a young age.
“I should’ve helped you,” Eldon said.
He paused as if he expected a response, but the only reply came from the wind and the fallen leaves rustling at his feet. After a moment he went on.
“A better father would’ve been there for you, but I didn’t understand what you were going through.”
Eldon lapsed into silence again. He stared at the grave, remembering, thinking about what might have been. Then, before turning away and heading back to the emptiness, he said, “I love you, son. I was always proud of you.”
With that moment came the painful realization that his son might still be alive if he had offered these words sooner. Eldon lowered his head and walked away from the gravestone. As if offering feeble comfort, the blowing leaves followed him back to the bus stop.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ANDREW MCALLISTER, PH.D. writes both fiction and non-fiction, including the relationship advice blog To Love, Honor, and Dismay. He has a psychology degree and over twenty-five years of experience in the IT industry as a professor, consultant, and software company executive. In other words he can fix your computer software … but only if it really wants to change. He lives with his family in New Brunswick, Canada, where he is busy working on his next book.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my colleague and computer security expert Rod Cooper, who helped me understand how a cyberattack on a modern bank might conceivably occur. Any factual errors are mine, not Rod’s.
I owe an immense debt of gratitude to my early reader group. A big thank you to John Ball, Mary Ann Casey, Rob Doucette, Rik Hall, Linda Labine, Ted Logan, Stephen McAllister, Greg McCarthy, and David Perry. You helped improve the story in countless ways and your enthusiasm gave me the energy to make it to the finish line.
Thanks to Norb Vonnegut for his promotional support during the early days, when it mattered the most.
This book might still be sitting in a drawer if it weren’t for my friend and critique partner Tom Matthews. Thanks for never letting me lose sight of the dream. Tom also designed the book cover.
Thanks to my children Scott, Katie, and Alex. Your encouragement means more to me than you’ll ever know.
Finally, and most importantly, this book would not exist without the support of my wife Brenda. Thank you for believing in me.