Covering Home (21 page)

“Ma’am? I need you to bring your seat forward. We’re landing shortly.” The flight attendant’s voice came from a distance.

Britt grunted and tried to rise through the murky fog of fatigue that shrouded her. She lifted her eye mask, squinting against the sunshine streaming through the windows of the airplane. The plane banked slightly, affording her a familiar view of the bay and the city of Oakland in the distance.
Home.

Britt pressed the button and raised her seat, then slipped her arms into the sleeves of her hoodie. She caught the faintest scent of Caleb’s cologne and her chest tightened. Touching her nose to her shoulder, she breathed in. There it was again, lingering in the folds.

Her seatmate, an American man not much older than her, looked up from the Sudoku he was working on and smiled. “Welcome back. You were out cold.”

Britt straightened, zipping the hoodie closed. “Thanks. I guess I needed it.” Staying up half the night talking and cuddling with Caleb had left her equal parts giddy and exhausted. She turned toward the window, hoping to end the conversation before it even got started. Her mouth felt dry, her tongue thick.

She wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Besides, her father would be waiting on the other side of customs. She’d need all of her energy reserves to process the complex, intense litany of questions he would fire at her on the ride home.

“Do you live here?” Sudoku man asked.

“Not anymore.” Britt stuffed a magazine and her phone back into her briefcase. Her phone. Caleb. She’d text him as soon as they landed.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” He flipped the puzzle book closed, his blue eyes bright behind dark-rimmed glasses.

“I don’t believe so. Do you watch baseball on TV?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Britt fiddled with the toggle that kept the tray stowed in the seat back in front of her. There was no point in being rude, but the terminus of this conversation was inevitable. “I’m the co-host of
Covering Home
on the Epic Sports Network.”

His countenance brightened. “Yeah, maybe that’s it. Are you in town for the Giants game?”

She bit back a smile. “No.” It was true. Sitting in her family’s suite didn’t count. She was on vacation, anyway.

His shoulders slumped. “Dang it. I thought maybe you could get me free tickets.”

Britt frowned.
Nice.
Suddenly she was very thankful she’d slept through most of the flight. “Sorry, can’t help you there.”

The captain came over the loudspeaker, sharing the local time and expressing his gratitude for choosing this particular airline. He announced they’d be on the ground in seven minutes. Thank goodness.

“So, um, what are you doing this weekend? Maybe we could grab a drink?” His gaze flitted over her.

Britt shifted toward the window, grateful for the extra space afforded business class passengers. “I’m sorry, I flew in to spend Easter with my family.”
Not to mention there’s an incredibly hot baseball player in my life who’d probably clobber you if he knew you were hitting on me right now.

“Oh, right. Of course.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

Britt turned and stared out the window as the runway rose up to meet the wheels of their airplane. They touched down with a slight bump and she clutched the arm rest as they roared down the runway. No matter how often she traveled, it always felt better to be back on the ground. The familiar curve of the airport’s modern gray and glass roofline came into view as they taxied toward their gate. Sudoku man was already on his phone, chatting away. Good.

The seatbelt sign went off and the passengers jumped from their seats and opened the overhead bins. Britt was at the mercy of her rebuffed seatmate now. She waited for him to gather his possessions and claim a space in the aisle.

Passengers began the delicate dance of inching toward the exit, suitcase handle in one hand and smartphone in the other.
Back to life, back to reality.
Those lyrics to an old song echoed through her head as she tapped her toe impatiently and waited for her turn to leave the plane.

Once she was walking up the jet way, her phone emitted a burst of chimes. She tugged it from her bag while she walked and scrolled through the text messages. Only a brief text from Caleb, inquiring about her flight.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. She’d call him when she was home, settled in her room where they could talk without all the distractions of a busy airport.

The rest of the messages were from her brothers and sister, updating her on the events of the weekend. A new message from Allison appeared on the screen while she was reading.

Dad and I are waiting by the escalators. Hughes is outside with the car.

Britt tapped out a quick response and sent it to Allison. She knew better than to ignore her older sister. If she didn’t respond, Allison would just keep texting until she got an answer that satisfied her.

Dozens of smells overwhelmed her as she made her way toward customs and baggage claim. The usual aromas of airport food—coffee, cinnamon rolls, pizzaB,B,—that she normally welcomed as an indicator she’d arrived home, turned her stomach now. Flying for nine hours across multiple time zones wrecked all sense of normalcy. Even though she’d slept for most of it, she felt like she could sleep for nine more.

The process of clearing customs went surprisingly well. But the closer she walked toward the escalator that would take her down to meet her family, the harder her pulse pounded. If only Lucas would pick her up today. He’d let her relax, turn up the radio and say absolutely nothing all the way home if that’s what she wanted.

But not Dad and Allison. Britt spotted them before they noticed her. Dad wore a crisp white shirt under a navy pinstriped suit, with a baby blue and silver striped tie. Hands behind his back, he cut an imposing figure, standing in the airport like a granite boulder in the middle of a stream. People were forced to alter their course because he certainly wasn’t going to move. His thinning hair was almost all white now, but he still kept it impeccably groomed.

Allison stood next to him in a red skirt and fitted blazer with mile-high heels. The ultimate power suit. Her glossy brown hair curved toward her chin in a sleek bob. Not a single hair dared to roam out of place. She looked up, her brown eyes landing on Britt. Allison nudged Dad in the ribs with her elbow, and he scanned the escalator until he found her. Britt tipped her chin, squaring her shoulders and wishing she’d slicked on some lip gloss. She always felt the need to strike a pose under his discriminating gaze. The escalator carried her to the lower level and she was forced to step off and into Dad’s open arms.

“Hi, Daddy.” She dropped her bags on the floor and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffened in her embrace, offering an awkward pat, pat, pat between her shoulder blades.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He surveyed her appearance. “My, you look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep on the flight?”

“Almost the whole time. How are you? How’s the new restaurant?” Asking about his business ventures, particularly when he’d opened a new restaurant, usually distracted him.

“We’ll talk business in the car. Let’s go.” Allison took control of the situation, as usual, and herded them toward the door.

“What’s this I hear about Joe Caswell and meningitis?” Dad asked, the heels of his Italian loafers clicking on the tile floor.

“How do you know you didn’t contract it, too?” Allison’s perfectly sculpted brow furrowed.

Here we go
. Those taxis idling outside the airport were looking better and better.

“Joe was already sick when he arrived in Tokyo, it just took a day or so to get a diagnosis.” Britt towed her suitcase behind her, falling in step behind Allison.

“But how do you know you weren’t exposed?” Dad asked. Without waiting for an explanation he swiveled toward Allison. “Get Dr. Buckley on the phone. We need to schedule a consultation.”

“Dad, no. I was in Tokyo, not a third-world country. I don’t have meningitis. Please. Let me relax. It’s Easter, for Pete’s sake.”

Dad’s green eyes gave her a careful appraisal.

Allison already had her smartphone in hand. “I don’t think you should take any chances, Britt. Kristi has a newborn. What if you make them sick?”

Great.
Play the newborn card. Who could trump that? Still, she was exhausted and didn’t relish being poked and prodded for an illness she didn’t have.

“I’ll tell you what, at the first sign of a fever, you can cart me off to the ER.”

Their well-orchestrated agenda for the afternoon didn’t allow for an unscheduled visit to the Giants’ team physician. She was banking on that.

Dad pursed his lips. Britt could almost see him calculating his options. Why did everything have to be analyzed and re-analyzed? She wasn’t an earned-run average or an on-base percentage, she was an adult. A woman capable of making her own decisions. Right now, she just wanted to crawl into bed.

“Let’s take it one day at a time. But we’re keeping a close eye on you.” Dad winked and led the way through the automatic doors and out into the California sun. Britt drew a deep breath and lifted her face skyward, savoring the warmth on her skin. The sunshine in Tokyo didn’t feel the same.

It felt distant somehow, crowded out by the endless noise and neon light pollution.

“Does it feel good to be home?” Allison asked.

Britt opened her eyes and turned to answer, but her sister was already marching toward Hughes and his black Lincoln Town Car waiting at the curb.
Sheesh.
No time to stop and smell the proverbial roses with these two around. She hurried to catch up, her purse bobbing against her shoulder.

Hughes, Dad’s long-time driver, already had the trunk open by the time Britt got to the car. He smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his leathery, tan skin. How he managed to chauffeur her father around and still have time to work on his tan, she’d never know. Grace said he was quite the surfer back in the day, but Britt had never witnessed it with her own eyes.

“Miss Brittany, welcome back.” He hoisted her suitcase into the car as though it were a feather, his muscles flexing against the cuffs of his short-sleeved button-down. Hughes was the only one who called her by her full name.

“Hughes, so nice to see you again. What’s new?”

“Another day in paradise.” Hughes slammed the trunk closed and addressed Dad. “Mr. Bowen, are we headed home, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you, Hughes.” Dad opened the door and slid across the back seat. Allison followed him, and Britt climbed in last, pulling the door shut. She sank into the plush, velvet seat. Even though it had only been a week, she forgot what it was like to ride in a car with only her family members as passengers. The trains in Japan were efficient, but she’d never adjusted to the phenomenon of packed cars and bodies pressed tight together.

“So are you glad you got that out of your system?” Dad asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Britt stilled. “Got what out of my system?”

“This notion of yours to run off and interview that has-been from the Phillies. Carson? Chris? What’s his name again, Al?”

“Caleb Scott.” Allison and Britt spoke in tandem.

“He’s hardly a has-been, Dad. They’ve put him in the starting lineup for one of Japan’s premier teams.” She bit the inside of her cheek. Was she really defending Caleb before they even left the airport? This did not bode well for future discussions.

“We saw that picture. It practically went viral.” Allison’s voice dissolved into laughter.

“What picture?” Dad’s forehead creased.

“Oh, didn’t you see it?” Allison swiped her finger across the screen of her smartphone. “Let me pull it up.”

“Allison, I don’t—” Britt reached for Allison’s phone but she swatted her hand away.

“No, Dad will want to see this.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.
Britt gnawed on her thumbnail as Allison scrolled to the picture of Caleb’s hand on her cheek. Had that really only been a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime.

Dad removed his glasses from the inside pocket of his suit coat and perched them on his nose. “What in the world were you thinking?”

Britt’s cheeks warmed under his admonishment. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He snatched the phone and lifted it closer. “I told you this was a bad idea, but you insisted on chasing this rabbit trail.”

“It’s not a rabbit trail. Caleb has an incredible story, one not many people have paid attention to.”

“Well who’s going to pay attention now? This is a total conflict of interest.” He handed Allison the phone and turned to stare out the window.

Britt resisted the urge to fire off a snide reply. Dad didn’t respond well to emotional pleas. Measured, analytical response was the most effective approach. “I think they’ll pay attention when he has a phenomenal season.”

“And I suppose you’ll break the story on your show?” Allison chimed in. “How’s he going to feel about that?”

“We’ve already talked about it. He’s not ready yet. But he’ll come around.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dad grumbled, arms linked across his broad chest.

“Your perspective is a little skewed, don’t you think?” Allison asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Britt twisted in her seat and glared at her only sister. She could handle the attitude of superiority Allison wielded most of the time, but she would not let her win this one. Caleb’s story was too important to be forgotten.

“It’s obvious by your expression in this picture that you care about him. How could you possibly be objective?”

“The facts will speak for themselves, regardless of our … friendship.”

“Friendship?” Allison quoted the air with her fingers. “Is that what you call it these days?”

Britt sat on her hands to keep from smacking her sister. Grown woman or not, sometimes she reverted to childish behavior to convey her point.

“My advice to you would be forget about this story and focus on making a name for yourself at the network,” Dad said.

“You’ve got a whole season ahead that will either make or break you.”