Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“I remember overhearing a conversation between my parents,” Kirk says. “Dad was saying that he didn’t think that working on buses was worth the time, and Mom said that the universe was leading him that way for a reason. I suppose that’s why he kept at it. And the skill he learned and the connections he made looking for parts and that sort of thing—he changed his life and mine too.”
“Can you imagine what would’ve happened if he didn’t open Skoolie’s?” I grin. “I probably never would’ve met you. Or Burt.”
Kirk laughs. “Before you get off on a tangent, let me make my point.”
“Then you better hurry because I’m ready to tangent.”
He shakes his head at me. “The point is that you can’t force fate, Palmer.”
“With all due respect, I’m not sure that baseball is my fate.” I make a disgusted face. “Let’s hope not, anyway.”
“Maybe it’s not baseball. Maybe . . . maybe it’s what baseball will lead you to.”
Kirk pauses and lets me take the steps first up to the trailer we use for offices.
“I think baseball is going to lead me to a bottle of wine,” I joke. “And probably a headache.”
We step inside the office and change from our boots to tennis shoes.
“I’m going to make a couple of phone calls,” he says, grimacing as he stands up straight.
“I have a few emails to return, and then I’m leaving right at four. I need to get to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles on my way home before they close.”
He nods. “Sounds good. Have fun at baseball.”
I head to my desk and feel a spark of energy rush through my veins. “I’m sure I won’t. Hopefully Ethan will.”
“Just be open to it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become a baseball mom. You can keep the book for the coach and bring snacks.”
“Ha.” I sit at my desk. “I’m many, many things, Kirk. But a baseball mom isn’t one of them.”
“You don’t know that. The universe is leading you to the ball diamond for a reason.”
I reach for my water bottle. “I’d definitely like to be led to a diamond, but not that kind.”
Kirk laughs, waving a hand through the air like he’s done with me, and closes his office door.
I get to work, happy to have something to take my mind off this new thing in my life that I’m going to have to manage.
Ugh.
CHAPTER NINE
PALMER
Oh crap.”
Ethan glances at me while continuing to pound his right hand into his baseball glove. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me you grabbed your water bottle.” I squint into the rainy sky and wish I’d had time to stop at the Quick Stop and squeegee the windshield. There’s an oily residue coating the glass from following a semitruck to work this morning. “You got it, didn’t you?”
“Which do you want me to answer?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to tell you that I grabbed it, even if I didn’t? Because that’s what you said—‘Tell me you grabbed your water bottle.’ Or do you want me to answer your question—”
“Ethan.” I throw him a look so pointed that he flinches. “Did you get it or not?”
“Yes, Mother. I got it.”
I’m this close to telling him to watch his mouth, but I don’t. I can’t quite read between the lines. His words didn’t actually sound sarcastic, even though that’s how I heard them, and the entire exchange wears on my already gray mood.
I lean forward and peer at the darkening sky. Secretly, I prayed for rain this afternoon. There wasn’t a line at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, and I managed to renew all of Skoolie’s business-vehicle tags in about ten minutes. That would’ve left me with a long evening at home to pay bills, run the damn vacuum on the steps, and make a homemade dinner that doesn’t involve chicken nuggets.
But we have baseball.
The only thing dissolving my irritation is the sparkle in Ethan’s eye.
Bud promised me when we checked out last night that spring baseball is more of a learner league. He assured me that Ethan will be in great hands and will have a lot of fun.
I hope so. I hope there aren’t a whole heap of kids who are already experienced and make Ethan feel bad for not knowing how to play. I worried about it all night.
I pilot the car onto Cardinal Lane toward the baseball complex.
Maybe this will help him form a framework of men he can go to for help and advice.
It’s the one thing in life that I really can’t give him. That drives me nuts.
“Mom . . .”
I slow down for a set of speed bumps leading into Cardinal Park, named after the local high school mascot, and then look at Ethan.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Um . . .” His chin dips. “Do you think there’s any chance that Dad will be here?”