Chapter 6

Luke's head hurt, and it wasn't the alcohol. He had spent the preceding night searching the web for "daughter Alberto" and "media tycoon," and he was anything but satisfied with the results.

Nadia Alberto was neither far too young for his father, nor had she undergone plastic surgery. She had never been seen kicking a dog or laughing at a child with cancer, and she didn't go about deforesting the rainforest either.

On the contrary: She was a member of the humane society, and made large donations to the Philadelphia Hospital on a regular basis. She was a widow, and there was no evidence that she might have poisoned or stabbed her late husband, or that she'd had any kind of hand in his passing. He'd died of heart failure. Nobody had seen it coming, and it had happened more than seven years ago. She had no kids, but a lot of money, and still all her teeth. What bothered Luke the most however was her genuine, personable smile.

The woman was bound to have an awful personality; Luke was certain of it.

He was also well aware that he was overreacting. The only way he could have justified his antipathy for the woman was if he'd received a blow to the head recently.

He rose and took a cold shower, which didn't kill his headache, but at least his desire to hire a private detective. He should be focusing on his game. They had two more games against the Pittsburgh Pirates in the coming days, before they'd fly to Atlanta for another series. For Saturday, Wes had marked his calendar with the initials ‘CG.' Luke had no idea what they stood for, but he assumed it was important.

He stepped out of the steam shower – his first big investment after buying the loft – and wrapped a towel around his hips. His phone rang, and he picked it up from the edge of the sink with a sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Luke," a voice purred, "I cannot believe that I finally got you on the phone."

Luke frowned, but didn't say anything. It was a woman's voice, but beyond that, he had no clue. "Hey, who's this?"

An outraged cough was the answer. "It's Brittany, of course."

He should have checked the caller ID before picking up. Why hadn't he done that? That was what that feature was for, damn it. "Hey, Brittany. Long time no talk."

"You can say that again. And yet you promised you'd call me."

Had he? He had promised so many things over the years, like supporting Greenpeace, and adopting a dog. Promises were overrated these days.

"I must have missed that somehow," he stated.

"Well, no biggie. That's why I'm calling you now."

Hallelujah.

"Right," he murmured as he clumsily pulled a t-shirt over his head with one hand. What kind of woman called a baseball player at nine a.m. on a Monday morning?

"So I was wondering if you have some time this week to meet with … an old friend?"

Dear God, he really didn't have the patience for this right now – so he simply hung up and threw his phone on his bed, which was big enough to host an entire daycare group. Brittany would tell herself that the connection had somehow been severed. These things happened far too often.

Or better yet … he switched his phone off. His battery might have been low after all. If she was so eager to talk to him, she'd have to drop by when the Delphies had a practice session that was open to the public – just like any other woman.

***

Bagel with cream cheese, scrambled eggs, a muffin, and a cup of coffee. That was the most American breakfast Emma could think of. But afterwards she felt so stuffed that she decided to skip the American eating habits for now. Still feeling a little queasy, she finally stepped into the lobby of the tall office building at nine thirty sharp. Her workplace for the coming weeks was on the third floor.

Everything looked the way you expected things to look in such an office building. Sterile-looking colors, sterile-looking furniture, a lot of desks, and a vaguely tense atmosphere. That didn't change when Emma reached her floor. The only thing that was different was the fact that a young woman with a ponytail and friendly blue eyes came hurrying towards her, beaming, or rather grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Emma liked cats, but weren't you supposed to be wary of the Cheshire kind?

"You must be Emma Sander."

Her accent told Emma that she must be European as well. Judging from the dark hair, she guessed that she came from a Southern country. "Hello."

She held out her small hand. "I'm Linda, your assistant, and I'm really thrilled that you're here. I'm going to spend the next few days introducing you to the branch here, and to your tasks. I'll try to help any way I can." She fell silent, giving Emma an expectant look.

Emma wasn't really sure what the woman expected; maybe she was supposed to jump with joy, or do a little celebratory jig? She merely smiled and took the proffered hand. "You're right. I'm Emma Sander, and I'm just as thrilled to be here."

The answer seemed to satisfy her new assistant, for Linda let out a little giggle, before she marched quickly down the corridor that ran past the reception desk. Emma followed her and stared at Linda's heels. That looked like at least five inches – why wasn't Linda lying on the floor with an open fracture?

"Alright. Naturally there's not meeting scheduled for you yet, since it's your first day and you need to acquaint yourself with a few things first, but tomorrow you're set to meet the local managing director, so you can get to know each other. And then of course there are the appointments you need to schedule so you can organize the event this weekend." Linda was such a fast talker that Emma struggled to follow everything she was saying.

She could rightfully claim that she was fluent in the English language, not the least since she had spent an au pair year in Los Angeles, and she'd had no problem communicating with Steve, who only spoke English, but now she had to strain her ears and her brain more than she had expected. It had to be that accent with the swallowed vowels …

"… but I'll explain that in more detail later, if that's okay with you. Here we have your office now." Linda smiled and took a step forward to open a door for Emma. Beyond that, there was a square, spacious room, which held nothing but a desk, chair, and a lamp.

"It seems that my predecessor liked it cozy."

Linda giggled. "Indeed your predecessor wasn't what I would call a domestic soul, but I could organize a painting or poster or something like that, to make it a little more homely, if you wish."

Emma smiled. She thought she might learn to like being boss.

"It's not pressing, but thanks for the offer. I might take you up on that at some point."

"Sure. Why don't you take a quick look around; I'll be back in a second." She raised a finger as if she expected Emma to jump out the window, and marched back down the corridor.

Emma grinned at nothing in particular and looked out the window. She had a great view on a concrete high-rise. That screamed freedom. She slowly approached the desk and ran her fingers across the surface.

There wasn't a speck of dust on it. The top was smooth as glass, even though it was polished wood. The desk held a hole punch, some pens, a computer, and a small box filled with thumbtacks. When she sank into the large office chair, she found that it was flexibly adjustable. Much to her excitement, you could almost lie back horizontally. She'd be able to sleep and still look busy! With a grin, she leaned forward to pull the backrest back up, and when she straightened, she faced a smiling Linda, who dropped a stack of files and folders on her desk.

"These are your assignments for the next four weeks. I thought you might want to know in advance what's coming up … and then I have this …" she added, opening another folder and putting it on top of the others. "This is the info for Saturday. The Delphies Bowling Charity Gala to fight bone cancer."

A slight feeling of panic started crawling up Emma's neck. "Saturday?" she echoed. "As in … this Saturday?"

Linda nodded excitedly. "Yes. But don't worry. The better part has already been organized; you're just responsible for fine-tuning things, and of course you need to be present at the event on Saturday, to make sure that everything goes according to plan."

"Okay." Emma scanned the topmost page in the file. "Charity Gala, you said?"

Her assistant nodded again. "Yes, exactly. A big event; the entire high society of Pennsylvania will be there."

Which translated as: nobody Emma was likely to have seen on the cover of a magazine before. "Okay. And … why Delphies Charity Gala?"

What the hell was a Delphies? An energy company? A candy bar? It sounded like a candy bar, like something sweet and sticky. Snickers, Delphies, Twinkies.

Linda giggled and waved her hand dismissively. "You're funny."

Emma raised her eyebrows and blushed. She hadn't tried to be funny.

"Oh." Linda's penny dropped. "You really don't know what the Delphies are?"

The way Linda looked at her, you might have thought Emma had said she didn't know what the Titanic was. She felt stupid, but she shook her head truthfully. "No. I'm sorry, I've never heard of them."

"Of course not! I forgot that you're from Germany." She slapped her forehead and grimaced apologetically. "The Philadelphia Delphies are our local pro baseball team," Linda explained slowly and smoothed her pencil skirt.

Baseball? Dear God. The only things Emma was less interested in were water polo and dog shows. A bunch of men hitting a ball with a stick, and then running after that ball, or away from it, as the case might be – how was that supposed to be fun?

"Ah, I see, and what's the deal with this baseball team?" she prodded.

"They've been hosting the gala for several years now, after one of their promising rookies was forced to stop playing, due to bone cancer."

Rookies? Had she heard that word before? Emma didn't want to make a fool of herself by asking Linda what it meant.

"Okay, got it."

A bunch of athletes would be there, bowling for charity. The only stipulation for the catering read that the appetizers should contain lots of meat. That was all she had to know.

"Alright. Thank you." She picked up a pen and wrote down the bits of information she'd gathered on the top page. "I think I'm going to start by going through these files, to get an idea of what will be expected of me."

Linda nodded. "Do you want me to put your calls through?"

"Uh, yes, please. But always let me know first who's on the line." She wanted to be able to google people, if necessary. Right after she had looked up what the term ‘rookie' meant.

"Sure. Please don't hesitate to call me back in, if you have any more questions. As my teacher in high school used to say: There are no dumb questions – only dumb answers." She winked at Emma and closed the door behind her.

Emma stared first at the door and then at the file folders before her. Seven folders, if she'd counted correctly, not counting the charity thing this weekend.

Methodically, she went through each of them. An engagement party, the corresponding wedding, an auction, the presentation of a new car model, and an annual hunter gathering – Emma snickered – seemed to be the most important ones. She could deal with all of those starting next week. The charity event was the most pressing thing she had to take care of now.

With a sigh she turned the page. What she saw was very similar to what she was used to from her job in Germany, the only difference being that everything was written in English.

The venue had been booked – since they would be bowling, a large, fancy bowling alley was the obvious choice – the catering had been hired, and the bar stocked. The invitations had been sent out, the press informed. All of that would have been too short-noticed if she had been supposed to do it four days before the actual event. When she realized that there was actually hardly anything left to do, Emma's pulse slowed down to normal again. But the she noticed a side note that said simply ‘black tie,' and her heart sank a little.

She had left her Cinderella dress in Germany.

So you'll be at this party, mingling with all the stars, and technically you could flirt with anyone that crosses your path?" Milla stepped on the gas, and in this moment, nobody would have thought that she'd had a baby only recently.

"Well, first of all, I have to work. Not a lot of time left for flirting, I assume. Plus I don't know any stars anyway. I know who Brad Pitt is, but that is about it, so how am I supposed to distinguish local celebrities from regular people?"

Milla shrugged her shoulders. "You don't have to. You simply flirt with everyone that crosses your path."

"Are you trying to hook me up, Milla?"

She sighed and pulled into the parking lot of a mall. "No, I just miss dating once in a while. It was so exciting."

"Exhausting."

"No, exciting."

"Boring."

"And then, when your heart started to beat faster …"

"Or when you started salivating, because your date told you about their stamp collection."

"Oh Emma. You're far too pessimistic about it all." She parked next to a blue Chevrolet and turned the engine off.

"Ha," Emma replied as she opened her seat belt, "it's you who's too optimistic, because you have the perfect husband and the cutest baby in the world. All the women who are still looking for a man are much more realistic when it comes to dating."

They got out and shouldered their purses. Milla had to buy a book for Steve, so she was headed to Barnes Noble, and then she wanted to invite her sister to lunch, which shouldn't be too American, Emma had asked after her opulent breakfast.

"So is there anyone in Germany, for whom you'd consider giving up the dating game?" Milla asked nosily, while they walked towards the entrance. She wore an expression that said: All I want is for my little sister to be happy.

But said sister was currently happy enough without a testosterone victim at her side.

Emma hugged her sister impulsively. "Milla, I always tell you everything over the phone. There is nothing you don't know."

"That's too bad. I thought maybe you had saved a few things to tell me in person."

"No, I haven't. And since when is everything about starting a family and planning your future?"

Emma loved planning things, but only if she could plan other people's affairs! She couldn't plan her own life five years in advance. Who would do such a thing? You couldn't be a control freak in every aspect of your being.

And the last time she'd already pictured herself in a white dress, things had not gone well at all. It was entirely possible that not all men were idiots, but if she didn't start anything with anyone, she was merely playing it safe, wasn't she?

"No, of course it's not. I'm sorry. Since I had Randy, I keep thinking about it, that's all. And I just know that you would make a wonderful mother!"

"Thank you. But I hope I can still be that in five years." Emma was twenty-eight years old. She still had a lot of time to overcome her current distrust of men, and make one to three babies. Three years for the man issues, three years for the babies.

"Of course you can. Okay, I need to go in here quickly."

They entered the bookstore, and Emma felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of the store. Not only did it extend over several floors, it also seemed designed like a maze, where customers would get lost and never find their way home again.

Milla laughed at her sister's astonished face. "Yes. It's a big store. Get used to it. Why don't you browse for a few moments while I find Steve's book?"

Emma didn't doubt that her sister would find the book, but she was worried that Milla would find her again. But Milla had already disappeared in one of the aisles, so Emma couldn't point out the problem.

Alright then, she would venture into this labyrinth of the printed word. Emma strolled through the store, picking a random course through the aisles, fascinated by the range and variety on offer.

At the very back of the store for example, there was a row of shelves that held only bibles. The Barbie Bible, the Boy Scout Bible, The Animated Bible, the My Little Pony Bible, and of course the bible in extra large print for older people.

Crazy. Emma walked on, and was suddenly surrounded by blue and red. "The Delphies," a large sign heralded what this section of the store was about.

Emma chuckled and shook her head at the range of items on display. All the better to educate herself in preparation of her Saturday event.

Goodness, there was such a lot of stuff. She had always thought the soccer hype in Germany was bad, but it was a joke compared to this baseball cult. There were jerseys, pennants and streamers, playing cards, umbrellas and dog blankets, but also toilet seat covers and barbecue grills.

The most fascinating item however was located on the top shelf: a row of miniature versions of the players. At least that was what it looked like. A bunch of different baseball player figurines with bobbing heads. Emma didn't recognize any of the faces.

She laughed as she strolled past the shelf. How could a person be so obsessed with this sport; obsessed enough to buy a plastic bobblehead player? She sort of understood the jerseys, but those figurines? Unfathomable.

"Oh, so you want to immerse yourself in American culture by getting an athlete for your bedside table?!"

Milla had materialized next to her, triumphantly waving the book she had sought.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Exactly, I'm going to get me …" She grabbed a random figurine. "This one. He looks kinda cute." She turned the bobblehead in her hands and looked more closely at the face. "Yes, quite handsome."

She held it in front of her face and started grinning. This one reminded her a little of Luke, the guy she'd beaten at pool and let win at table soccer a year ago … the guy she'd slept with afterwards. Her only ever one-night stand. He had been damned worth it.

Weird. The last thing she'd seen of him was his naked butt, since he'd stepped into his jeans without bothering to put on his boxers. And then he'd asked her if he'd see her again … my, my. The likeness was almost disconcerting.

"Oh, great choice, sister." Milla took the figurine from her hands. "Hey," she laughed, "your taste in men is impeccable. He's one of the cutest in the team. Luke Carter, star pitcher and … are you okay?"

Milla gave her sister a concerned look, because suddenly all the color had drained from Emma's face.

And Emma stared at the bobblehead in shock. That couldn't be true! He couldn't be … He had told her …

"What's his name?" she asked, her throat dry as sandpaper.

"Luke Carter," Milla repeated slowly and took a step backwards, probably out of fear that her sister might puke on her pretty shoes. "He's a pitcher with the Delphies. Uh, wait …"

Her eyes scanned the shelves, and then she grabbed a large picture book and opened it. "Here. That's him."

She pointed at one of the photos in the book.

Emma leaned forward and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh God! I slept with a guy who has his own bobblehead effigy!"

"You … what?!" Incredulous, Milla stared at her. "When? You only arrived yesterday!"

"It's been a while. Last year, in Cologne."

"You slept with a celebrity last year and never told me? Didn't you say there was nothing in your life I didn't know about?" Milla seemed miffed in earnest.

"Jesus, I didn't know that he was sort of famous!"

"Sort of famous?" Milla looked pointedly at the figurine, before waving it in front of Emma's face. The head bobbled like crazy. "Emma, he's a bobblehead! Every child in this country knows his fucking name, and every playmate has slipped him their G-string!"

"He didn't tell me he played baseball!" Emma defended herself. She felt a little dizzy. "I didn't know I would turn into a groupie or anything. He said … he told me something about a stadium, and that he was indispensible … I don't remember. It's been a year! But he didn't mention that he is famous."

Milla opened her mouth and then closed it again. She repeated that action several times, before taking a hasty breath and asking: "So? How was he? I've always been curious whether a baseball star is good in bed."

"Yeah, why don't you say that a little louder still?" Emma groaned. A baseball star. She'd been in bed with a baseball star! Holy crap, there was everything wrong with that picture!

"Bullshit, nobody understands us here anyway. Spill the beans, come on!"

Emma raised her eyebrows and turned away with ostentation. She would not talk about it. "Let's go."

"Don't do that to me!"

"Don't forget to pay for your book. I'm sure theft is a crime in every country."

"Emma! You cannot tell me a thing like that and then leave me high and dry!"

"It was a long time ago and I don't remember."

"Oh, that's a big fat lie!"

It was. "No, it's not."

"I bet it was incredible." Milla sighed. "He has such beautiful muscles. The only reason I watch sports is those bodies. I bet he was the best you ever had."

He was. "Mhm." Emma shrugged her shoulders and got in line for the cash point. "He was okay."

Milla grinned at her. "You little liar."