Page 1 of Paging Dr. VanRyan

CHAPTER 1

MATTHEW

Ipulled out of the hospital parking lot, heading toward my parents’ place. It was my mother’s birthday, and for once, I was able to be there for dinner. With my crazy schedule at the hospital, it was rare. During my residency, I had missed holidays, dinners, even family weddings, but that was the life of a doctor in training.

Having completed my residency, I was still the low man in the pecking order. I got the crap shifts, the doubles, the cases nobody else wanted.

But I was thriving. My father, Richard VanRyan, had instilled a good work ethic in all of us. He led by example, and now partially retired, he was still showing all of us up. My mom, Katy, laughed when people asked if he was ready to retire completely.

“The Energizer Bunny I’m married to? Give me strength. He’d drive me crazy in a month.”

My dad always grinned and agreed with her. Aside from golfing and us kids, he didn’t have a lot of hobbies. He enjoyed the gym, but it was really a good way for him to burn off some of his energy. He and I met when my schedule allowed it, and we sparred together in the ring on occasion.

I always assumed once he retired fully, he and Mom would move to Port Albany, where his best friend Maddox and their large, extended families lived. My parents had a house there in the “compound,” as it was affectionately referred to. I’d spent many a summer and holidays there—it was a fabulous place to be a kid. And I loved visiting all my “cousins,” but BC was my home—and where my parents were.

My phone rang, dragging me from my musings. I saw it was my dad, and I tried not to grin. I had a feeling I had won the bet. My father was meticulous with details—his job in marketing made it a good trait. But almost every year, he forgot one important item on my mother’s birthday. He remembered the date, flowers, dinner, and a gift.

But he often forgot the cake.

I answered his call, hitting speaker. “Hey, Dad.”

My father’s deep baritone filled the car. “Matthew. I need a favor.”

I chuckled. “And what might that be? You forgot the cake?”

“No, dammit. I got the cake.”

“Wow, color me impressed.”

“I was almost home when some idiot cut me off. I had to slam on the brakes in order not to hit him.”

I knew where this was going, and I had to hold back my laughter. “The cake fell over?”

“The damn cake exploded! It flew out of the box and is currently decorating the inside of my car,” he half yelled. “There’s fucking frosting all over me, the leather, the windshield, and the floor!”

I couldn’t contain my amusement. My dad loved his car and babied it. Regular washes, detailing, every service appointment was kept up-to-date. The thought of his Lexus covered in sticky icing, no doubt already melting with the warm day, would drive him crazy.

“Where are you?”

“On my way to the detailers. They are going to give me a loaner while they have it. I’ll wash up the best I can there. But I have no cake.”

I was at a light and glanced over to my left, spotting a bakery I had been to before. “I’ll get one, Dad.”

He sighed. “Thanks. By the time I get the car dropped off, most of the shops will be closed. If you can, get a vanilla one. You know Mom prefers white cake.”

“I will.”

“Chocolate is fine too,” he added.

I grinned as I parked my car. That was his favorite.

“I’ll see what they have at this late hour,” I assured him. “In fact, they close in ten minutes,” I said, spying the sign on the door. “I hope they have something.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” he noted. “Even pie. I can get a cake tomorrow to make up for it.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I walked into the bakery, inhaling the scent of sugar and spices. It was deserted, the shelves almost bare. The display case held a few donuts and one lonely looking apple pie.