Finally, I came to the house number posted on a beautifully-painted sign that hung on a piece of timber from the mailbox post. So far so good. I'd found the right place anyway. I pulled up the car to the three-car garage next to the rambling home with a neat and tidy patio set out on a large deck that wrapped around the front of a beautifully-stained home. This had to be the place. Everything was clean and trim, the lawn perfectly mowed. Even the flag out on a pole in the middle of the yard seemed to lay in a perfect arrangement. I wondered if he'd starched the flag to get it to do lay straight. It made me smile.
From the house, a lean, tall, blond man with a trim goatee came out, all smiles.
"Hi, I'm Dean. You've gotta be Renee," he said, leaning into my open car window.
"I am. It's gr
