Wow, now that brought him back. His mind drifted to the memory of a young girl with warm hazel eyes and a million-watt smile...a girl who had once made him feel as though just being with her was a home run.
He wondered if Jessica was still living in Parker Falls. Last he’d been back, she’d been newly married to Davis Idle—a rocker whose idea of athletics was chasing after whatever groupies followed his local band around. Chase had never liked the guy. Still, Chase hadn’t reconnected with Jess on that or any of his few subsequent visits. Truthfully, he’d made it a point to not reconnect. He’d slunk in and out of town quickly so he wouldn’t run into her. He’d thought it might be awkward, since she’d been married.
Thinking of Jess made him remember their breakup, and that didn’t improve his mood. Now he needed something to keep his mind off current problems and old flames. More distraction. He tried the radio, but every station was country music. There was a tractor taking up a good portion of the road ahead, and he accelerated further and drove around it, tapping his horn with a wave before swerving back into his lane. Chase had a few minutes before he would arrive at his destination. He made a call on his car’s speakerphone.
The line rang and then clicked as the other party answered.
Chase didn’t wait to be greeted. “Spencer. How’s my favorite agent? You promised me something soon.”
“And I’ll deliver, buddy. I got feelers out to a dozen teams. But this is going to take some time.”
Chase could picture Spencer, thirty and slick, as he took Chase’s call at his bustling agency, sports photos on the wall of the sleek, modern office behind him. Chase remembered being impressed by Spencer’s office and fancy suits. How glamorous the inner workings of pro baseball had seemed to Chase fifteen years ago. Chase had tried to call earlier this morning, but Spence seemed to be dodging him a little.
Chase drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, accelerating a bit more as he rounded a soft bend in the road. “Spencer, spring training started without me! If a team doesn’t make me an offer before the season begins, I’m finished.”
Spencer paused. “Look, the memory of game seven still hasn’t quite settled down. And when I talk to owners, you have a reputation for risky moves. When you’re on top, people forgive some ego and swagger. But lately, your arm isn’t what it used to be.”
“My arm’s fine. It’s my ego that’s taken a bruising. That Channel 10 news piece was a real hatchet job.” Chase hadn’t turned his TV on in ages, knowing that the replay of that night was on a near-constant loop on the station. He might have dated and dumped one of their programming execs, but that was no call for such a gleeful vendetta against him. And as for his arm? Well, Spencer wasn’t saying anything that Chase himself hadn’t worried about constantly for the last six months.
“Look, buddy. Just lay low for a while. Stay out of sight and let me do my magic. Okay?” Spencer sounded concerned, and Chase respected his advice.
He sighed. “Well, I found a good place to lay low while things sort themselves out.”
“Great! Gonna hit the beaches of Maui with that gal of yours?”
“She’s on a perfume shoot in Paris this week,” Chase lied. “But I’m headed home to good old Parker Falls, Ohio. You just get me an offer before I’m toast, okay? My fate’s in your hands, bud.”
“Ok, pal. I’m on your side, remember?” Spencer’s tone was reassuring. “And, fingers crossed, I’ll have good news soon. There’s still time.”
As he tapped a button on his steering wheel to hang up the call, Chase caught the reflection of police lights flashing in his rearview mirror.
“Great. Welcome home,” Chase groaned, throwing on his blinker to pull off to the side of the road. He put the Mercedes in park and waited as a police officer slowed to a stop behind him, exited his patrol car, and strolled up to the convertible.
When the officer reached the side of the car, Chase explained, “Sorry, officer, I was on a call. Hands-free, of course.”
The police officer, all business as he flipped open his ticket pad, said, “License, please.”
Chase handed over his license, and the guy eyed it for the briefest second before looking up and breaking into a wide smile. “Chase Taynor?” he said, chuckling.
Chase prepared for another fan run-in. He’d been hoping to avoid those by coming back home.
“Jake!” the police officer said. “Jake Miller. I was a freshman when you were a senior, remember?”
Chase had no clue, but he played along, relieved to not have to rehash the game-seven debacle with yet another fan. “Right. Yeah, Jake!”
Jake said, “Man, I haven’t seen you in, what, fifteen years now? Well, except on TV.” The officer lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Sorry about that one pitch.”
Chase nodded. So much for escaping the replay in Parker Falls.
Jake looked at Chase, a puzzled expression on his face. “Figured you’d be in spring training by now.”
“Yeah, well. I just wanted to come back home and relax a little bit, you know?” Chase was starting to get uncomfortable. If this was a prelude to a ticket, it was just the extra kick in the teeth he didn’t want to happen right now.
“Well, good timing,” the officer said. “Spring Fling kicks off in a few days.”
“Oh? Lucky me.”
Jake seemed to hesitate but then forged ahead with the question that nearly everyone Chase had crossed paths with had asked since the night of the flubbed pitch. “Say, Chase, I gotta ask…” Jake paused a moment. “In game seven—”
Chase interrupted as politely as he could. He really wasn’t in the mood, but he didn’t want to be rude to Jake.
“Jake, weren’t you gonna write me a ticket or something?”
“Oh, nah, nah,” Jake said. “I’m going to let you off with a warning—for old time’s sake. See you around.”
Jake handed Chase his license and reverted to law mode, his voice serious. “And keep that speed down.” With a wink, the officer started to walk back to his car.
Old time’s sake. Spring Fling. Chase couldn’t shake the nostalgia. He glanced at the clock, glowing from his dashboard. It was still lunch, more or less.
Chase leaned out the window and shouted back at Jake, “You bet. And thanks. Hey, is there still that old diner in town? Still a good place to get a bite?”
Jake paused at the door to his cruiser. He seemed to know where Chase’s thoughts were going. “Yeah, Wesley’s. And Jess Parker is running it.” With a knowing look, Jake climbed into his patrol car and pulled back out onto the highway. Chase, relieved that he’d escaped a ticket, was definitely feeling hungry.
Ten minutes later, Chase had made it into town and parked outside of Wesley’s. It looked exactly as he remembered, down to the tiniest detail: burgundy trim, whitewashed stucco, canvas awnings over the entrance emblazoned with the namesake. What was he hoping for—a hometown reunion to soothe his bruised sense of confidence? With a girl who’d probably forgotten him? That an old high school girlfriend would even still care about him enough to give him that boost? Sad, Taynor.
He wouldn’t be so insecure if Heather really was on a photo shoot in Paris—instead of dodging his calls like his agent had been. His stomach growled. He’d been on the road for a while, and he knew that his parents wouldn’t be back from their bridge club for an hour or two, so, feeling a little apprehensive, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got the courage up to get out.