She’d heard about Miles Ryan.
Not much, but she knew that people for the most part both liked and respected him and that more than anything, he seemed to care about his son. That was good. Even in the little while she’d been teaching, she’d met parents who didn’t seem to care about their children, regarding them as more of a burden than a blessing, and she’d also met parents who seemed to believe their child could do no wrong. Both were impossible to deal with. Miles Ryan, people said, wasn’t that way.
At the next corner, Sarah finally slowed down, then waited for a couple of cars to pass. Sarah crossed the street, waved to the man behind the counter at the pharmacy, and grabbed the mail before making her way up the steps to her apartment. After unlocking the door, she quickly scanned the mail and then set it on the table by the door.
In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of ice water and carried the glass to her bedroom. She was undressing, tossing her clothes in the hamper and looking forward to a cool shower, when she saw the blinking light on the answering machine. She hit the play button and her mother’s voice came on, telling Sarah that she was welcome to stop by later, if she had nothing else going on. As usual, her voice sounded slightly anxious.
On the night table, next to the answering machine, was a picture of Sarah’s family: Maureen and Larry in the middle, Sarah and Brian on either end. The machine clicked and there was a second message, also from her mother: “Oh, I thought you’d be home by now…,” it began. “I hope everything’s all right.