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If Grace didn’t give you the answer you wanted, you hounded me until I signed you up for whatever activity or outing you had your eye on.”

“I liked going places and trying new things. Then I could forget, just for a few minutes, that I didn’t have a mom. You were always so busy, anyway.” Britt raised her eyes to meet his, a fresh wave of tears blurring her vision.

Dad knuckled away a tear of his own. “You clung to Grace. Most days you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I tried so hard to be really great at everything, so you’d be proud of me.” She glanced at the trophies that lined the shelves. “If you couldn’t have Mom, at least you’d have an exceptional child.”

“I do,” Dad said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Only this time, his touch was genuine, caring, unhurried. “I have four exceptional children, actually. Also a daughter-in-law that I adore and sweet little grandchildren that I’m crazy about. I will always miss your mother, but life is good. God has really blessed me and my family abundantly.”

Britt rested her head against his shoulder, the starched material of his dress shirt rough against her cheek. “Yes, He has.”

“Allison, your brothers and I, even Grace—we worried all the time if we were doing the right thing. You were so headstrong and fearless. I’m sorry for all

the ways I failed you.”

“Stop.” She lifted her head. “You didn’t fail me. I’m ridiculously impulsive.

Believe it or not, that’s why I need some advice now, Dad. I’ve spent so much time worrying about being perfect at work that I ruined a relationship when it barely got started. I’m embarrassed that I completely left God out of the equation, too.”

“Is this that Scott fella?”

“How’d you know?”

“I read the newspapers.”

Britt sat up straight. “We’re still in the papers?”

Dad chuckled. “I only saw the headline once. Allison and Kristi keep me updated, though. I wasn’t aware there was a problem.”

“A recent development.” She got up and snatched a tissue from the box on her dresser.

“Give it a day or two. God works wonders, even when we’ve tried our best to mess it all up. Things have a way of falling into place with a little time and distance.”

“I’ve got plenty of both.”

Dad arched an eyebrow. “Senators are in town tomorrow to play the Giants. Aren’t you calling the game?”

“Hardly.” Britt flopped back down on the bed. “I’ve been placed on the DL, so to speak. Apparently my issues with Caleb were affecting my work.”

“Even the best in their field need a vacation now and then.” Dad patted her knee. “Enjoy the time off. Why don’t you come see the game with me?”

Britt thought about all the hours she’d spent in their suite. That was one place where the grief didn’t seep in.

There wasn’t anything better than watching a baseball game with her family. “Seven o’clock?”

“You got it. You ride with Kristi and the kids. I know she’s planning on bringing everybody,” Dad said.

“I’ll call her. Thanks, Dad.” Britt sat up and climbed off the bed.

Dad stood and linked his arm through hers. “You’re welcome, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Britt’s heart expanded, his words a soothing balm for the chronic ache she’d carried with her for so long.

“Come on. Hughes sent dinner. He said you were starving.” Dad headed for the stairs.

Britt laughed. “He’s so perceptive. I tried to play it off, but he wasn’t fooled.”

“He’s a good egg, that one.”

In the kitchen, Dad uncorked a bottle of white wine from his collection. Britt enjoyed a salad and Lobster ravioli from Bocci and told Dad Caleb’s story, leaving nothing out.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Caleb stood in the hallway outside his tiny new office at Coors Field and ran his finger over the name plate mounted on the door.
Caleb Scott, Special Assistant to the General Manager
. This was it. The next chapter. A basic desk occupied most of the space. One wall held a blank whiteboard, with two black folding chairs underneath it. Metal bookshelves sat underneath the small window. It wasn’t quite the corner office with a view he’d imagined, but at least he could catch a glimpse of the broad, blue Colorado sky from time to time.

He went in and sat at his barren desk. His phone chimed, reminding him that he had a meeting with the GM himself in a few minutes. Reaching into his backpack, he took out the Liberty Bell and set it on the desk. Then a framed picture of his family, followed by another one of him and his Seibu Rays teammates—one of the many parting gifts he’d received when he left. This was the only one that fit in his carry-on, though. The rest would come later in a shipment from Tokyo. Last but not least, he unpacked his mitt and slipped it onto his left hand. He punched it with his fist, kneading the leather with his knuckles. The familiar smell of rosin wafted toward his nose. A pang of regret tightened his chest.

Someone rapped on the door. “Knock, knock.”

Caleb glanced up. Garrett Kline and Brock—somebody or other—from player development filled the doorway. He’d have to figure out a way to keep all the names straight. This was like the first day of spring training all over again.

“Good morning.” Caleb took off the mitt and pushed it aside, wiping his sweaty palms on his khaki pants. Was he supposed to dress up? Garrett’s suit and tie were a little intimidating.

“Caleb, welcome to the Rockies organization. Officially, right?” Garrett came forward, extending a hand.

“Thanks, I’m happy to be here.” Caleb leaned across the desk and shook his hand, then Brock’s, too. “Nice to see you again, Brock.”

“You too, Caleb.” Brock had the brightest red hair Caleb had ever seen and a tight smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sorry to pounce on you right away, but something’s come up and we need your help,” Garrett said.

He motioned toward the two empty chairs. “Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“Well, we’ve had our eye on a young man pitching for St. Mary’s College out in California.” Garrett hitched up his pant legs and smoothed his tie as he sat down. “He’s having a record-breaking season this year, but each time we’ve sent a scout, he’s really struggled.”

Caleb lowered himself into his new chair. He knew where this was going.

“We know it’s, uh, an unusual request for your first week on the job.” Brock cut his eyes at Garrett, knee bouncing incessantly up and down.

“We’d like to send you to watch him pitch tomorrow,” Garrett said. “Keep a low profile, no need to speak to him or anything like that. Just give us your take on whether or not we need to pursue him in the draft.”

Caleb rubbed his hand across his chin. “California tomorrow night?”

“If his team doesn’t advance beyond a super- regional in the NCAA tournament, this might be our last chance to see him on the mound.”

“It’s an afternoon game,” Brock said. “One or one-fifteen start.”

Caleb nodded. If he was headed for California then he definitely wasn’t traveling with the Rockies to Atlanta. “I’m assuming this is in lieu of going with the team for the Braves series?”

Garrett and Brock exchanged glances.

“Yes,” Garrett said. “Is that a problem?”

Caleb shrugged. He knew better than to refuse a proposal from the GM. Wasn’t this what special assistants were for? Dropping everything to do what was best for the team? “Not a problem, just wanted to clarify my role here. So I’ll meet the team in Tampa Bay for the next game, then?”

Brock’s knee stopped bouncing and he stared at the floor.

Garrett uncrossed one leg and recrossed it over the other. “Well, we’re hoping to have you back in a day or two to evaluate a couple of pitchers down in the Springs.”

“Really?” Caleb asked. He hadn’t anticipated spending much time with the Rockies’ minor league organizations. Didn’t Brock have somebody on that already?

“Normally we’d send someone from player development,” Garrett explained. “But there are two pitchers on the verge of being called up. We think they could benefit from your mentoring right now.”

“Mentoring. Of course,” Caleb nodded, his head spinning at the unexpected trajectory of his first week on the job.

“Of course, if you’d like to catch another game while you’re out that way, I can snag a ticket to the Giants and Senators.” Brock arched one carrot orange eyebrow. “I’ve got a few connections there.”

Caleb’s heart lurched at the mention of both teams.
Britt
. Couldn’t he go one hour or even one conversation without his thoughts circling back to her?

“Caleb?” Garrett asked. “Can we book your flight?”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Caleb shoved aside the disappointment that threatened to weigh him down. He wasn’t a scout, but he was more than capable of assessing a college pitcher’s potential for the big leagues. Plenty of personal experience there.

“What’s your email?” Brock reached for his phone. “I’ll send you the file on him: stats, profile, projections … the works.”

Caleb rattled off his email address and made a mental note to Google this kid as soon as possible.

Garrett and Brock stood up, all smiles and well wishes. “My assistant will provide an itinerary with flight info, hotel and car rental. I imagine she’ll have you on an evening flight, if you’d like to run home and throw a few things into a bag.”

“Right, of course.” Caleb stood to walk them to the door. Throw a few things into a bag. He was getting good at that.

“Thanks, Caleb. Way to be a team player.” Brock clapped him on the back like Caleb was doing him a huge favor.

“Safe travels. I look forward to hearing your feedback.” Garrett shook his hand one more time and disappeared into the hallway.

“Thanks,” Caleb mumbled, leaning against the doorframe and rubbing his elbow. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was a test, to see if he could hack the transition from player to management? Well, he’d deliver. This was the best opportunity—the only opportunity—that presented itself and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.

Britt smoothed the skirt of her new turquoise sundress across her knees and glanced at the time again. One fifty-five. Only three minutes had passed since the last time she looked. So far today she’d run four miles on the treadmill, shopped for the dress she was now wearing and taken herself out to lunch. With nothing else to do, she’d stopped by to visit Kristi and the kids. They’d laughed when she said she was ready to go to the game. Kristi reminded her that there was no way they could show up six hours before the first pitch.

Sighing, she stood up and walked to the open living room window. Lucas and Kristi’s new nanny, Gwen, was out in the back yard with Lexie and Carter. Lexie was on one of the swings, pumping her legs as she glided back and forth. Her endless chatter spilled into the room. Carter and Gwen were kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the grass.
Don’t let your dad see you with that ball,
Britt thought. Bowen men played baseball and that’s all there was to it.

Wandering back to the couch, she picked up the remote and clicked on the flat screen television mounted above the fireplace.

There had to be a baseball game on. She surfed through the channels and stopped when she found the Tigers versus the Twins. It was the top of the fourth inning. She slipped off her peep-toe wedges and then propped her feet up on the coffee table. The analysts providing the color commentary were both former professional players. As she listened to their easy banter and the confident way they slung baseball minutiae around, she wondered if being a woman trying to break into baseball wouldn’t always be an uphill climb.

“Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?” Kristi came in and perched on the arm of the couch.

Britt shrugged her shoulders. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Whatever. Give me that.” Kristi pried the remote from Britt’s hand and turned off the television.

“Wait a second.” Britt tried to grab Kristi’s arm. “That pitcher was working on a no hitter.”

“Excellent. You can catch the highlights later. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Britt grabbed one of the orange chevron striped throw pillows and clutched it to her chest. She already knew what was coming.

“About what you’re really doing here.” Kristi slid from the armrest down to the corner of the couch, narrowing her gaze.

“I told you, I was given a leave of absence.” Britt examined her fingernails. Maybe she’d get a fresh mani-pedi now that she had all this extra time. That always cheered her up.

“The season just started,” Kristi said. “What happened?”

“Marne said I needed to regroup. She thinks I lost my mojo or whatever.”

“Is she right?”

“Maybe. I was running on adrenaline after Japan. Completely exhausted. But the show must go on, right? Most people slave away in obscurity for years and never get a broadcaster’s role like this. I couldn’t say no. Then LA happened.”

“By ‘happened’ you mean you saw Caleb again?” Kristi tapped an index finger against her chin.

“I panicked, Kristi.” Britt squeezed her eyes shut. She’d crushed him with her words. Running out of that coffee shop was a huge mistake. One she might not be able to rectify.