Greg’s eyebrows jumped into his hairline. “Transferred?”
Maree nodded. “To the sixth floor,” she added, as if they hadn’t understood the first time.
“Thanks for the heads up.” Sarcasm dripped from the words.
His stepmother’s hand waggled. “The nurse said she’d call you.”
“Well she didn’t.”
“Huh. That’s strange. I gave her your number and everything.”
Time to intervene. Jenn squeezed Greg’s hand. “The nurse’s station was empty. Maybe she’s dealing with an emergency.”
“Maybe,” Greg agreed. His voice was far from cheerful, but at least he wasn’t still in the middle of an emotional meltdown anymore. “So where is he?”
“I told you already. Sixth floor.”
A growl rumbled in his throat. “I know that. What room?”
****
After his bubble-headed stepmother finally gave up Big Jake’s room number, Greg dragged Jenn back to the elevator.
“I’m sorry.” He was too embarrassed to look at her, so he stared at the “Fight Flu” poster on the wall.
“Don’t apologize to me. You had a perfectly normal reaction.” A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. “You were a little hard on your stepmother, though.”
“Her inconsiderate behavior is infuriating.” He finally met Jenn’s eyes. “I find it hard to believe anyone is as brainless as she acts.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Now, Greg, we can’t all be mental giants.”
“Says the lawyer.”
This time, her laugh was hearty. “Speaking to the MBA.”
He laughed, too. It was a relief to joke around after the harrowing scene they’d just been through. Thinking his father was dead… Shit. His day had had more ups and downs than the tourist-schlepping elevator at Sears Tower.
The mood in Greg’s father’s new room was a lot more cheerful. Maybe it was because less medical equipment hovered beside the bed. Or maybe it was just the wide grin that lit Big Jake’s face when he walked through the doorway.
“Dad, you’re looking much better.” Without all the machines surrounding his bed, he no longer appeared two steps from death.
“I told you it was merely a temporary setback.”
Pure relief made him blunter than usual. “Didn’t look so temporary to me when you were hooked up to life support.”
“Good to see you, too, Greg.” His father’s soft chuckle indicated he took no offense.
“Based on your more jovial than usual mood and the fact that you just called me Greg and not Two, I should assume you’ve already heard my news?”
Big Jake nodded. “Been fielding congratulatory calls for about an hour now.”
An hour? Puzzling.
A quick glance at Jenn told him she shared his confusion—and she beat him to the question. “Jake, with all due respect, how is that possible? The press conference ended just forty-five minutes ago.”
His father’s smile didn’t waver. “Arizona’s GM is a former teammate of mine.”
“I should have known,” Greg grumbled.
“Yes, you should have,” was his father’s less-cheerful reply. “Kid, you signed with Arizona. My territory. You can’t swing a bat in this state without hitting someone I played with or for.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I realize that, Dad. But I thought that, given your…health, I’d be wiser to take a job near the Foundation.”
“Smart decision.” His father’s nod was brisk. “I always knew you’d be a good man, once you got past all that damn adolescent rebellion.”
Greg’s mood started another elevator ride downward. If he didn’t put the brakes on soon, the cable would snap and he’d plummet to the cement and smash into a thousand pieces. Not on his agenda today. Or ever. He preferred to hold onto his temper, thank you very much. When he didn’t, he usually ended up chatting with cops, down at the station.
He took a deep breath and then let it out. “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you dealt with Stringfellow. He’s a nice guy. Cute kids.”
Greg shrugged. “Matt had an in with Sam. He’s the one who recruited Matt.”
His father’s eyes narrowed and his face turned red. “Wait just a damn minute. Are you telling me you asked Thatcher to put in a good word for you?”
He didn’t speak. Couldn’t, really. He should have known the old man would seize on that. He nodded. “I told you once already.”
Big Jake glowered. “I must have been out of it, because I don’t remember.”
“Well, I did.”
“You mean after all your talk about not wanting my help you went out and got it from someone else?”
Impotence and rage coiled together in his gut. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me, Two.”
“No thanks.” His father would never get his need to make his own way. He whirled around and stalked toward the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Jenn’s happiness dissolved into dismay as she watched the two angry men. Both were red-faced and equally unable to say what needed to be said. And if Greg stalked through that door, the moment would be ruined forever. He’d always think of what should be one of his happiest days with sadness or anger. She refused to watch it happen.
“Greg, wait.”
Her voice rang out, clear and persuasive. It was her most authoritative courtroom voice, and he listened. He froze with his hand outstretched, palm flat, ready to push open the hospital room door and flee.
“Come back here, please.”
He grumbled something that sounded like “Don’t press your luck.” But he did return to her side, like a kid dragging his feet on the way to somewhere he didn’t want to go.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. Then she went up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Trust me.”
A ghost of a smile teased his mouth when he whispered back. “Didn’t someone say ‘Never trust a woman who says trust me?’”
“Actually, it was ‘Never trust a man who says trust me.’ From the movie Blaze. About Governor Earl Long and his stripper mistress.”
“Why am I not surprised you know that?”
Now she was perpetuating the stripper charade without even trying? Great. “Paul Newman elevates it to a classic.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Jenn.”
“I would.” She had to. She couldn’t exactly tell him it was one of her sister’s favorite movies—not right now.
“Hey now, what’s with all the whispering?” Jake’s belligerent tone interrupted their tete-a-tete. “Two, I know I taught you better manners than that.”
“You’ve taught me a lot of things, old man.”
Jenn squeezed his hand again. If she was lucky, he’d take it for the “hush” it was meant to be. Two alpha males butting heads wasn’t conducive to an air-clearing conversation.
When the testosterone in the room clicked down a notch, she took a deep breath. “Jake, I hear you saying you’re hurt that Greg didn’t want your help.”
“I said nothing of the kind, young lady.”
Jenn didn’t rise to his bait. She kept her voice even. Her mother’s self-help obsession was about to pay off. “But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?”
Jake opened his mouth to protest but closed it again. “You might be right.”
“Sure she is,” Greg piped up from her side. “Sometimes I think Jenn knows me better than I know myself.”
“That’s how I felt about your mother, too,” his father muttered.
The comment was almost too low to hear. Almost.
Jake’s pronouncement caused a stutter in her heartbeat. She did her best to ignore it, but her voice still wobbled. “Jake, Greg wants you to understand that he’s an adult, able to make his own way in the world of baseball—and the world at large.”
Jake’s gaze snapped to his son. “Is that right?”
Greg nodded. “Yeah, Dad.
It is.” His voice was thick, as if he were trying to hold back tears.
“Hell, son. I know you’re all grown up. But even adults can use a helping hand once in a while. I didn’t spend my life fighting to build our name so you’d have to fight the same damn battles I already won.”
Tension thrummed through Greg and into her hand. She squeezed his fingers and cleared her throat. “Jake, I think you’re missing the point.”
His father turned back to her. His expression was amused. “I am, am I?”
“Yes. Greg needs to prove to you, and to himself, that he can succeed on his own.”
“He asked Matt for help.”
“True. But getting help from a former teammate isn’t the same as getting it from you, Jake.”
Jake looked at his son again. “That right, Two?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How so?”
One glance at Greg’s face told her he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—speak up for himself. Again, Jenn became the mouthpiece to express the feelings that roiled beneath the surface of Greg and Jake’s conversation. Thank God her mother’s obsession equipped her to do it. “Greg played with Matt. Earned his respect. Having Matt’s support is different from having his father vouch for him.”
Jake seemed to consider that for a minute. Finally, he nodded. “I can respect that. Not sure I understand it, but I can respect it.”
“Jake, you’re Greg’s father.” She groped for the words to explain. “Parents always think their kids are good at everything, even when they’re no-talent hacks.”
Greg’s head bobbed. His Adam’s apple jumped up and back down. “Especially then.”
“Son, you’re about as far from a no-talent hack as the Babe is from an astronaut.”
“You know that, Dad. And I know it. But if I threw around the Bartlesby name to get a break, no one would ever believe it. Every time I struck out, the analysts would bring it up.” Greg’s fingers tightened around hers. “I can hear it now. ‘Junior isn’t half the ballplayer his old man was.’ ‘Looks like he came up from the farm league too soon.’ ‘He’s just a cheap imitation.’”
His voice broke on the last sentence. Jenn slid her free arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she chanced a look at Jake, his eyes were wet with unshed tears.
“Greg, look at me,” his father demanded. When Greg complied, Jake’s expression turned fierce. His finger stabbed the air. “I’m only going to say this once, so I want you to listen well. You, my son, are twice the ballplayer I ever was. And it’s because you have a good head on your shoulders. For the most part, you’ve stayed away from booze and drugs. You work a helluva lot harder than you play, and you’re a damn fine first baseman. Damn fine. Bartlesby name or no, any team is lucky to have you.”
“All things a father should say about his kid.”
“Doesn’t make them any less true, Two.” His father grimaced. “I pissed away my college career partying between games. You used your time in college wisely and walked away with a real degree—not a joke certificate in exercise science.”
“You led your team to the NCAA Championship. My team was runner-up.”
Jake held up two fingers. “Twice.”
“But I couldn’t seal the deal either time.” Greg dropped his gaze to the floor, his cheeks turning red again.
“Team’s only as good as its weakest link, son. Sometimes your best isn’t enough to overcome someone else’s deficiencies.” Jake held out his arms. “Now come here and give the old man a hug.”
Greg took a halting step forward. Jenn smiled to herself. Now that he and his father had broken through, they didn’t need her anymore. Because watching two grown men squall was no fun, she started plotting an expedient escape. She edged toward the door and managed five steps backward before Jake’s voice stopped her flight.
“Where do you think you’re going, Jenn?”
She flashed him her widest smile. “I could use a cup of coffee. Anyone else want some?”
“Stay. If we need coffee, I’ll order it.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Oh really? The hospital has room service now?”
“Anything for a price, my dear. Anything for a price.”
Jake meant no harm with the jocular answer. Nonetheless, it chilled her. What was she thinking, hanging with powerful men like Jake and Greg Bartlesby? She was, as Big Jake would say, way out of her league.
She glanced at Greg in time to see him wink at her. So warm and funny. And trusting. He liked her. Trusted her. Maybe even loved her. He might not have said those exact words, but he acted like a man besotted.
And she liked it. Scratch that. She loved being the object of his desire. Loved being there for him. Helping him with the Foundation’s business. Helping him be the man she knew he could be. He was so much more than the spoiled rich boy she’d assumed him to be when they first met—and now he knew it, too.
God help her, she hoped he never found out what a fraud she was.
****
“What’s wrong, Jenn? You’ve been quiet since we left Dad’s room.”
Her wide-eyed panic did not inspire confidence. Nor did her silence.
Greg tightened his grip on the steering wheel. No doubt witnessing their father-son cry fest had something to do with her inability to speak. It turned him off. Real men did not bawl like little kids who just lost the big game, no matter what the reason.
At least Big Jake was finally getting better. To hear him tell it, he’d be back at work Monday—and this time, Greg believed him. Today, he’d looked like himself for the first time since his collapse.
Maybe you jumped the gun.
He nearly choked on the thought, in part because it was one of his father’s favorite expressions. But once it was there, in his head, he couldn’t outrun it. “Jenn, you think maybe I called Matt too soon?”
He swung the car into an on-street parking space and waited for her answer, even though he’d gone 0-for-1 with answers so far tonight.
She must have deemed this one worthy of an answer, though, because her head whipped to the left. Green eyes blazed with—hell, he didn’t know what. It couldn’t be good, though.
“Don’t you ever think you called Matt too soon.” Her lips curved as she covered his hand that rested on the gearshift. “I’m sure your announcement had a lot to do with Jake’s recovery.”
He snorted. “Some announcement.”
“Your father has a point. It was next to impossible for you to keep the signing a secret when he knows everyone in the organization.”
“Sometimes I wish he had fewer connections.”
She pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide a smile. “I know you do, Greg. But he is who he is.”
“Yeah.” Even when he did something right, it wasn’t right enough. Frustration made him want to hit something. “Sometimes it sucks to be the son of a legend.”
“Even when you have the power to eclipse that legend?”
“I still think Dad’s delusional on that count.” He groaned. “You saw how he was kicking my ass in the home run derby.”
Her head shook. “Your memory’s faulty. I remember you keeping up. You were even up a few runs at one point.”
He replayed the moments leading up to Big Jake’s collapse. Something akin to wonder filled the dark spaces in his heart. “You know, I think you might be on to something.”
“Of course I’m right.” White teeth flashed in the gathering darkness. “I’m a fair and impartial observer.”
“I thought you were a lawyer, not a judge.”
She giggled and nudged his shoulder. “Close enough.”
They both fell silent then and strains of the Green Day song playing on the radio filled the car. Greg hummed along, but his brain chewed on the things his father and Jenn had said. Mostly his father. Did he really have what it took to outshine Jake “Big Man” Bartlesby?
Sure, he’d learned from his father’s terrible example and studied in school. When he wasn
’t playing or practicing, he went to class and did the work. What was the point of going to college, if not to learn as much as possible? Besides, his degree would serve him well when it was his time to take the helm of the Foundation.
Speaking of the Foundation…
“Did you ever hear back from the zoo?”
Jenn nodded. “Late Friday. They’ve agreed to exclusive access for our holiday party, at no charge.”
“Good.”
He lapsed back into silence until something he’d said in his interview with Sam came back to him. “Jenn, do you like working for the Foundation?”
“Sure.”
“Enough to do it full-time permanently?”
She sat back in the seat. Pursed her lips. Blinked. Stuttered. “P-p-permanently?”
Uh-oh. Her reaction didn’t bode well for what he was about to ask. He took the swing anyway. You couldn’t knock it out of the park without swinging for the fences. “Yeah. You’re good at organizing and getting things done—and with me playing Major League ball, I’ll need someone to run my office during the season.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I’d like it to be you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“I sense a ‘but.’” Strange, given how she’d thrown herself into the holiday campaign. She’d even taken a leave of absence from the law firm to devote her time to the Foundation.
Temporarily.
She squirmed in the seat and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “This is too sudden. I need time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons.”
So the idea wasn’t a home run. Still, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to be thorough. That was one of the reasons she’d be good at taking charge. “I’d expect nothing less, Counselor.”
“That wasn’t a ‘no,’ Greg. It was ‘let me think about it.’”
“I know that.” It still stung like rejection, but he could handle it. If he could best his father, anything was possible.
He still wasn’t sure about that. For now, it was best to change the subject. “You hungry?”
“After that huge lunch?”
He checked his watch. “Five hours ago.”
She laughed. “Okay, you might be right that it’s time to eat. I just want something light, though.”
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