Cynthia Byrne asked to talk to Randy again and Dean returned to the living room, his head in a whirl. Thank God it didn't appear she had been contacted by her husband, but something was seriously wrong and Dean was smack-dab in the middle of it.
Whatever relationship they had blooming was going south in a hell of a hurry. Dean could hear it in her voice.
He slumped down on the sofa in disgust, waiting for Randy to finish the conversation, his foot kicking open the bicycle magazine. With his brain still churning from the phone conversation, it took sometime before his eyes focused on a penciled circle on one of the articles. He reached down and read the notice. The story described an annual one-week bike tour of the Colorado Rockies and the address for information was circled and underlined. Dean recalled reading the same article in his copy. Wheels of understanding began turning but before he could collect his thoughts, Randy returned to the room.
"She's going to stay over until tomorrow," he said, looking only partially relieved. "I guess dad's dying and all finally caught up to her. She wanted to sort things out in her mind. I asked her about the envelope but she wouldn't say. She just told me not to worry." Then he added, "She sounded really pissed at you."
"It's been a tough couple of weeks for your mother. I'm going down to see her and try to straighten things out-a quick round trip." Randy just nodded and Dean felt helpless to add something more appropriate. He exited before more questions forced him to lie.
After a quick stop at home to change clothes and to leave a short note to Fred, Dean was on the road. Everyone in New Jersey was traveling to Pennsylvania while all the folks in the Keystone state were spending their weekend on the Jersey shore. Dean's initial hope that most travelers would have already reached their destinations proved foolishly optimistic as he crept his way toward the Atlantic seashore. Whatever beauty the day held was lost once he was behind the wheel, listening to a chorus of horns amid a blue haze of exhaust. His mind was awhirl with the pending confrontation, not to mention the magazine article with one more arrow pointing toward bicycling, the motor home, a trip west, the Rocky Mountains and Jeffrey Byrne, all rolled into one very plausible package.
It became obvious early on that Dean wouldn't reach his destination by 7:00 and in fact the sun was beginning to set when he finally pulled into the crowded parking lot of The Sea Mist restaurant.