Ryan heard kids' voices and veered in their direction, hoping maybe Flint was with them the way he had been the previous Saturday. It turned out they were playing a game of tag around one of the picnic tables, under the watchful eye of a parent.

He continued down the street, weaving his way through the festival-goers. Nothing. Discouraged, he turned around to walk back to the booth.

Suddenly the crowd parted and he saw Flint leaning against the wall of one of the shops across the street from his parents' restaurant, his camera to his eye. Apparently he was taking photos of a team of entertainers dancing in the center of the street.

He moved cautiously toward him, not wanting to interrupt what he was doing or upset the large dog seated at his side.

* * * *

"Guess maybe he's not working today," Flint said to Tank, feeling a mix of unhappiness and relief.

They had gotten to town half an hour earlier, he'd parked on one of the residential streets, which was a close as he could get to First Street and the Oktoberfest activities, and they walked the rest of the way. As they approached the Hartman booth, Flint had an idea. If he stationed himself down and across the street from it he could take photos of the festivities, using that as a cover while he also looked at the booth through the viewfinder in the hope Ryan would appear.

Revelers steered clear of him because if they came too close Tank would growl, especially if they approached on Flint's blind side.

As a result, Flint didn't pay attention when Tank gave another low, warning growl. That is until he heard someone say, "It's okay, dog. I just want to way hello to him, honest."

Not recognizing the voice, Flint turned to see who it was and almost dropped the camera. "You," he whispered.

Ryan smiled shyly. "Hi. You don't know me but I've seen ... I saw you last weekend I mean and I wanted to meet you and ..." His words petered out.

"Why?" Flint asked curtly, regaining a modicum of self-control.

"Why not?"

"Because." Flint briefly touched the eye patch. "If you're nosy and want to know why I wear this," he said angrily, "forget it."

"Not at all!" Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm Ryan Hartman. I live here, or rather moved back here recently."

"I know."

"You do?" Ryan said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. I may not be around town all that much, for obvious reasons, but I do keep track of what happens here."

"And get defensive if someone wants to talk to you? Well, don't be when it comes to me," Ryan retorted. "I'm harmless. All I want is, okay maybe this sounds stupid but I'd like to be your friend if you'll let me."

"Don't you have enough of them already?" Flint spat out. "Growing up here and all?"

"I've been gone for ten years, which you probably aware of, knowing the rumor mill around here. As I said, I haven't been back long and most of the people I was friends with have moved on or they're married and don't have any use for me, or, well, you get the picture."

Flint nodded, replying snidely, "So you decided to pick me because you've been told I'm reclusive and you want to see if you can be a hero and change that."

"Are you always this much of an asshole?" Ryan asked. He sounded hostile, but Flint saw his lips turn up in a tiny grin.

Flint pretended to think about it before replying, "Only on my good days." He really didn't want to alienate Ryan after finally meeting him.

Ryan smiled slowly. "And on your bad days?"

"I hide out at home with Tank." Flint put a hand on the dog's head. "Or go into the mountains with him to get away from people."

"That's where you took the photos I've seen in a couple of magazines?"

"You have?" Flint was definitely surprised by that bit of information.

Ryan shrugged. "After you vanished last Saturday, and Dad told me who you were, I decided to check it out. You're pretty damned good at what you do."

"So I've been told," Flint replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You know you are, so quit with the false modesty."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. That was sort of snotty of me but still ..." Ryan took a fast glance at the Hartman booth and sighed. "I'd better get back to work. Things are picking up again. Look, if you're not busy later on, I get sprung around eight. Maybe we could go get coffee?"

"You and me?"

Ryan laughed. "No, me and Tank. Yes, you and me, and him, too, since I heard he's your sort of like your service dog."

"I ..." Flint blew out a sharp breath. "I guess. Where?"

"The Coffee Corner on Ash and Second Street is pretty good."

"Okay. I'll see you, say around eight-thirty?"

"Great." Ryan chuckled. "Oh, and please don't stand me up."

Flint nodded. "I'll try not to, and don't you stand me up."

"Wouldn't dream of it."