Third Strike's the Charm

by Nicci Carrera

  A surge of excitement lifted Cara to her feet. She set the laptop sideways, so she could view it and control the slides with the arrow buttons but could easily turn the screen to him if there was something she wanted him to see. Then she explained her idea.

  After she finished, Professor Ortiz stayed silent so long she was certain she’d flopped. She sat. Remember, she told herself, you can go back to the original presentation. Her fallback plan calmed her frayed nerves somewhat. She took several deep, slow breaths to further ease the anxiety hammering the insides of her skull.

  Professor Ortiz rocked forward in his chair and set his elbows on his desk. He peered through his glasses while Cara wrung her hands and chewed her lip.

  Finally Professor Ortiz leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Relax. You did great. Do that tomorrow, and you’ll pass.”

  Cara surged to her feet. “Thank you!”

  Professor Ortiz shoved back his chair, came around the desk, and walked her to the door. “You know, you’re going to need some contacts, and there are plenty of resources right here. I’ll give you a list of names of people to talk to who can help you sort out the rules and regulations and avoid pitfalls. I’ll send you an email tonight. With any luck, you might even be able to get a few answers early tomorrow that will help fill in some detail or at least help you answer any pointed questions you might receive during your presentation. But mostly I’m giving you these contacts to help you long-term. I think it’s a great idea. Plus there are social services and medical resources you can continue to access here as an alumnus.”

  “I’m starting a consulting job in Chicago in a few days.” She felt it necessary to remind her kind advisor she was committed to a very different job.

  “The future is longer than next week, which you young people seem to forget.” Professor Ortiz winked and smiled. As she headed off down the hallway, he waved goodbye.

  Wow, what a completely different way to walk away from his office than the last time she was here. Cara smiled and gave herself a mental pat on the back. Alumnus.

  She waited for the bus that would get her close to Maya and Rick’s house in the hills. Cara had let her apartment go at the end of the school year and was staying with her sister and brother-in-law.

  She texted Jason the news while she rode the bus. Staying in touch with Jason—reporting to him on her well-being—was a new experience. She was used to keeping up with her family, but having close contact with a caring boyfriend was different. She liked it.

  ****

  The inside of the Love Caters All food truck hovered around eighty degrees, and Jason was sweating like a pig. Pilar sprinkled seasoning into a pot of polenta. The steam from the bubbling pot added to the humidity. The air was redolent of cooking cornmeal and fried plantains—not bad, but air shouldn’t be thick. The white blades on the big fan in front of Jason’s face mesmerized him, but in terms of cooling, they only served to push around the mucky air. As he was picking the stems off a sink full of spinach, at least his hands were immersed in cold water.

  Tourist season had officially begun with the first arrivals coming as soon as school ended in mid-June. While they weren’t on the main drag, their food truck had gained some fame and recognition, in part because he worked there, he thought, wryly. Maybe he no longer had corporate sponsors, but he could pull in a few baseball fans from Boston.

  He drove his hands deeper into the basin until the cold water came up over his elbows.

  Fortunately Pilar turned off the heat beneath the polenta. The stainless steel pan rasped over the iron grates when she moved it to a cool burner. Wiping her hands on her apron, she regarded him with gentle brown eyes. “Are you looking forward to catering the birthday party for the tourists renting the Peterson house?”

  Pilar had announced she really didn’t want to do the catering side of the business. To his way of thinking, catering had the highest profits. So he asked if he could do it. She let him keep fifty percent of the profits, too. The money was good. Getting to do that side of the business also gave Jason practical experience. In fact, the responsibilities were what inspired him to go back to school and earn a certificate in cooking and restaurant management.

  Catering also provided networking opportunities. His goals for owning a restaurant lay beyond the future’s horizon. He needed to stay close to home to take care of Mom. Love Caters All and catering jobs around Lobster Cove met his current needs. In addition to keeping him close to home, the jobs didn’t tie him down in case he needed to move with Mom someplace that had better health care, a possibility that hovered at the edges of his mind.

  “Yes,” he said, answering Pilar’s question about the birthday party. “I sort of wish I had your son-in-law here to do the baking. Then I wouldn’t have to buy the cake from Sweet Bea’s. On the other hand, I do like giving the business to Beatrice.” The skin on his arms had gone white and wrinkly in the water, and the astringent in the spinach leaves was irritating his fingertips.

  “Si, si…Beatrice makes great cakes. And Rick is going to be a great house dad.” Mama plopped a metal lid on the pan and picked up the broom.

  “Are they expecting?” Jason knew about Rick and Maya’s agreement. Rick would be the one to stay home and take care of kids while she pursued her restaurant career. No news about a baby had made it through the grape vine though.

  “I don’t know if they’re expecting, but I sure am!” Pilar smiled and continued sweeping the floor.

  “A mother’s hope springs eternal…” Jason dried his hands and took the broom from Pilar.

  They finished out the day and closed down the truck. Jason drove Pilar home. They usually carpooled, unless one of them had to do something after work. In Boston the routine would be so different. They’d live in a tiny apartment far from friends. Days would be filled with going to physical therapy and doctor appointments. Where Cara fit into either the staying scenario or the leaving scenario, he didn’t know. Their long-distance relationship was working fine, but it had only been a few days. How long could it withstand diverging responsibilities and lives?

  Later, over dinner, his mom set down her fork. Her level gaze told him something was up even before she said, “Jason?”

  He swallowed the last bite of chicken. “What’s up, Mom?”

  “I don’t think you should take care of me any more.”

  The food in his stomach took on the property of lead. He set down his fork. “I don’t. The caregivers do.”

  “You need to live your life. Go where Cara is.”

  He took a few gulps of water and set down his glass with a thud on the wood table. “First of all, we’re not ready for that yet. Second, where I go, you go, so be careful what you wish for.”

  His mom blinked several times. “What do you mean?”

  “Unless you’re ready for Chicago. That’s where Cara will be living soon.”

  “Oh.” She studied the table then raised those sky blue eyes. “I don’t think it’s right you have to live with me.”

  “You aren’t kicking me out, are you? I’m trying to save up.”

  “No, no…of course not! I don’t mean that at all. I just mean you have to live your life. Not be saddled with me.”

  He breathed air into his gut. He had this under control. “I’m not saddled with you, Mom. And I am living my life, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I hope so.”

  He chugged more water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, earning a frown from Mom. “Don’t you worry, everything will work out fine. Because we’re a family.”

  Despite his reassurance she still looked worried as Jason cleared the dishes. Of course she wanted the same thing for him that every parent wanted for her son. For him to create his own separate family and life. He wished he could give her that. Make her a grandmother. Wished she’d be able to crawl around on the floor with a grandchild, hold the little ones, and chase after them.

  Damn disease.

  ****

  M
aya and Rick’s house stood precariously—in Cara’s opinion—on pillars on the uphill slope of a winding road in the Berkeley hills. There was a nice view of the San Francisco Bay from the living room and two of the bedrooms, including the guest suite where Cara stayed. Maya had Wednesday nights off, which was the same day as Cara’s presentation. Rick made the effort to be at home for the celebration dinner. Even though he was supposed to be retired from day-to-day operations at GameCom, he’d been spending a lot of time at headquarters in San Jose, about an hour south. Blanca and Luke couldn’t make it to the celebration. Whatever was going on at GameCom had them tied up in knots.

  Cara set the table. Rick, looking as sophisticated as ever in khakis and a blue button-down shirt, popped open a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne. Maya arrived from the kitchen toting a plate of caviar on toast points.

  “You guys have to be kidding, but thank you!” Cara flashed on the slightly sweet crisp beer she and Jason had enjoyed their last night together in Lobster Cove. Another bubbly, another view, another time.

  Rick passed around the champagne glasses and toasted with a tinkle of crystal. “It’s not every day a family member—or another family member, I should say—earns an MBA.”

  “Thank you so much. I can’t believe it. I just totally can’t believe it.” The reality of her accomplishment made Cara’s knees wobble. She sank into the chair. Maybe her sudden weakness had something to do with the intense compression of events over the last four days. Francie’s second panic attack, the emails from her professor and new boss, the incredible night with Jason, the flight to California, the meeting with Professor Ortiz, and her presentation. Professor Ortiz had assured her by email this afternoon, mere hours after her presentation, she passed the course and would be awarded her MBA.

  “I’m really proud of you.” Maya gave her a hug as best she could with Cara seated. They laughed.

  Rick sat at the head of the rectangular table. “Tell me about the presentation.”

  Cara took a sip. The champagne’s clear taste and sparkling sensation on her tongue washed away the salty taste of the caviar. She explained what she’d done, how she’d run her idea for the presentation by Professor Ortiz. Thanks to practicing with him ahead of time, the real thing had gone smoothly.

  “What a great idea,” Rick said, with a nod.

  Maya clapped her hands. “I love the idea. Do you really think you could do one of these homes in Lobster Cove?”

  “I want to, but it’s going to take a lot of money. I still have to do more research and networking.”

  “I wish I could fund the business,” Rick said. “But right now GameCom’s stock is in the toilet.”

  Cara set down her champagne glass. “I noticed that in the news. What’s going on?”

  “There was a restatement of earnings.”

  Cara groaned in sympathy. Whenever a company had to restate earnings to Wall Street, the stock in that company tanked. All previous earnings reports became suspect. Investors dumped the stock as fast as they could find buyers. Cara had noticed the news, but hadn’t had a chance to talk to Maya and Rick about it yet.

  “Please don’t worry about it, Rick. I wasn’t going to hit you up for money. How is Aunt Terra?”

  “She’s okay,” Maya said. “I saw her yesterday. A little lonely, but our visits help, and we have her over here for dinner once a quarter, at least. Will you be able to see her before you leave?”

  “Yes. I don’t have to leave until Friday afternoon. I’ll visit her Friday morning. I’d like to see Blanca tomorrow, if I could hitch a ride with you, Rick. Are you going?”

  “Yes. Sure.”

  They enjoyed a fabulous dinner…garlic chicken en croute, which was basically a chicken breast somehow stuffed with garlic, herbs and butter sauce wrapped in a puff pastry. Fancy-schmancy but incredibly delicious. Dessert was flourless chocolate cake, which was something between fudge and cake, very decadent. Having a sister in the restaurant business was awesome. The only thing better would be having Jason cook for her most days.

  After dinner and a luxurious bath, Cara sat on her bed in the guest room. The hour was already too late on the east coast to text or call Jason, so she tapped out an email using her phone and the oh-so-handy word completion feature. She updated him on dinner with Rick and Maya and let him know she was exhausted and worried about Blanca. She let him know her plan to go see her the next day.

  Cara signed the message with Xs and Os to mark hugs and kisses. They still weren’t signing their messages with “love.”

  ****

  Cara’s lunch with Blanca was more like a meeting because Blanca couldn’t say anything about what was going on with GameCom, nor did she seem inclined to talk about Luke. They met at a fun French Bistro in San Jose, but Blanca only had an hour. She was proud of Cara, and blah blah blah, but was totally preoccupied. Learning that Doc lived nearby was one good thing that came out of their lunch though.

  Doc Olson was the old family friend who first helped them rent out Mama’s house by referring Rick Nordan. Doc had played a major role in destiny between Rick and Maya.

  Cara took a taxi to Doc’s office in Los Gatos. He was part of a small medical group, his practice one of many in a long row of brown offices. The receptionist was friendly and told her to have a seat. Doc arrived a few minutes later, looking the same as ever, a little older, hair a little more white. He wore the classic white coat and extended his hand along with a friendly smile.

  “Cara Cruz, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I was in town, visiting Blanca. She said you worked nearby. I just wanted to come by and say hello. I hope it’s not inconvenient.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have a break between patients. I keep my schedule pretty loose. I don’t have too many patients because I’m slowing down, as Dara will confirm.” He directed a smile at the receptionist, who grinned and shook her head. Dara must enjoy a fantastic job working for Doc in a practice without too many patients.

  Doc took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the desk. “How ’bout we grab a cup of coffee next door?”

  “Sounds great.” Cara was thrilled that her impromptu plan worked out. Her main goal was to catch up with Doc and thank him for all he’d done for their family.

  Doc held the door for her. She was growing a little used to the gesture since Jason had been spoiling her. At the coffee shop they settled at a table with their beverages. She filled him in on her life and the rest of the family. Then she complimented Doc for his matchmaking abilities.

  He was obviously pleased, his smile big beneath the neat white mustache. “Honestly, I had no idea it would really work. I haven’t been known to make a match before, but if I was only going to do one, Rick and Maya would be it. I’m going to rest on my laurels now.”

  Cara laughed.

  “How is Jason Ward?”

  “Oh.” She fought a blush she felt creeping into her cheeks. “Fine.”

  Doc’s great mane of white hair bobbed in a sage nod. “That’s good.”

  “Yes, he’s quite good.” Cara sipped her latte.

  Doc blew on his Americano, which he’d amused Cara by ordering. The man had grown some fancy tastes living in California. “How is his mother?”

  “Actually, Francie is doing quite well. Although she’s been prone to panic attacks lately. This has Jason a bit worried.”

  He nodded. “I guess he made the right decision then.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “What do you mean?”

  Doc hesitated, his bushy white brows bunched up over the bridge of his nose. “Oops.”

  She sat up straight with a tingling sensation in her throat and a tremor in her stomach. “Doc, what do you mean Jason made the right decision?”

  Doc cleared his throat as he studied the table. “I mean not going back to baseball.”

  She sat back in her chair as pieces fell into place in her mind. “I thought his injury prevented Jason from getting his pitching speed back up.”


  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” A few customers glanced at them. She lowered her voice. “That’s what the news said. And he said.”

  Doc took note of the unwanted attention then spoke softly. “That’s what Jason Ward wants everyone to believe. I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Why does he want everyone to believe that?”

  “Well, now I simply must fill you in. But you have to promise to keep it a secret. It’s very important.”

  She kept her voice low. “Promise. Please tell me, Doc. You can trust me. You see, I’m dating Jason. That’s not why you can trust me. You can do that because you’re an old family friend. But you must tell me because of my relationship with Jason.”

  Doc nodded. “Jason did recover. The surgery took. He worked hard on rehabilitation, and his pitching speeds came up. But when the team coach came around to watch him pitch, Jason didn’t throw it as fast as he could. Then Jason asked me to write a diagnosis saying I didn’t believe he’d ever be able to pitch at the level and speeds needed in the majors.”

  “Why would you lie like that? What about your license?”

  “Well, I would hate to end my career by losing my license, so I would appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

  “Of course!” Cara’s heart was racing, and the thoughts rattling her brain made it hard to think. She took a breath then said, “I didn’t mean to make you nervous about that. I’m very sorry. Of course don’t worry about my spilling the beans. Please tell me why though. I’m confused.”

  “Okay, okay. He fabricated this whole story because he didn’t want his mother ever to find out he was staying around to help her. I figured he wasn’t going to do anything with the fake diagnosis. He promised he wouldn’t. I trusted him, still do. It’s not like he’s going after insurance money or anything fraudulent. He said there was no insurance policy, and if it came down to that, he would come clean. Well, I trusted him, but I also said he had to tell the team owner. Turns out there was insurance, so they were notified. Jason bought out his contract. I don’t know who else he told, but as few as possible. That way Francie doesn’t know. She won’t find out from you now, will she?”