Page 1 of Rain Delay

Chapter One

Rusty

I glancedout the car window as the Uber pulled into the circular driveway.

“You sure this is it?” I asked.

“This is the address,” the driver said.

“Ok then. Thanks.” I grabbed my duffle and stepped out of the car. After slamming the door behind me, I turned and looked at the two-story house. “It’s pink,” I muttered to myself then followed the sidewalk to the double-door entryway.

After typing the six-digit code into the keypad, I heard the deadbolt shift and opened the door. It seems kind of strange to secure a house worth millions of dollars with six random numbers, but to each his own, I guess.

My phone rang just as I stepped into the foyer, and there’s no doubt in my mind who’s calling.

“I just got here. Literally just walked in the door,” I said without checking the Caller ID. “And not for nothing Mom, this place is what Sam refers to as his bungalow in the Keys? Holy hell. The foyer is as big as my condo.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” my mom said with a sigh.

Since my dad died six years ago, she’s been really nervous that something is going to happen to me anytime I’m not within her sights. Which is quite a lot since I’m on the road playing baseball half the year.

I walked into the open-concept dining room, living room, kitchen area and then over to the wall of windows overlooking the water.

“I’m fine. Tell Sam I said thanks again for letting me use this place. It looks like the perfect spot to decompress for the week.”

“He’s happy you took him up on his offer,” she said. “I think he feels like you’re finally accepting him.”

My mother started dating Sam Sherman a little over a year ago. He comes from old timber money and made a small fortune himself with his own gaming company. This “bungalow” in Marathon, Florida is well over three thousand square feet, sits right on the Gulf, and from what I understand, is the smallest of his five properties.

The fact that my mom has a boyfriend is still a little strange for me, but Sam seems to make her happy and treats her well, so I can’t complain.

“What are you guys up to tonight?” I asked.

Since Sam is retired and my mom doesn’t work, it’s not unusual for them to just jet off to some remote location at a moment’s notice. This week they’re in Tuscany.

“We’re going to dinner, then to a gelato making class, which I think is going to be a lot of fun. After that, we’re supposed to be meeting Ivy’s mom Kelly for a drink. Sam is hoping they can figure out where Ivy is. He’s really worried about her.”

From what I’ve been told, Sam’s ex-wife is an artist and a bit flaky, and his daughter seems to follow suit. I’ve only met Ivy a couple times, but she didn’t leave a very good impression.

I slid the patio door open and stepped out onto the balcony. Looking left to right and then toward the water, I was happy to see the closest property was far, far away. This place definitely has the privacy I’m looking for right now. Hopefully I’ll be able to get my head on straight and my pitching back in line this week. I don’t want to go back after the All-Star break and suck like I did the past month.

Settling into a lounge chair, I asked, “Why, did something happen to her?”

“She was fired from her job and left the house in Aspen a week ago. Sam hasn’t heard from her at all and her cell phone must be off because he can’t track it. He’s worried.”

“Hasn’t she done this before?”

“Not like this, according to Sam. She usually lets him know where she’s going, or at least lets someone know. This time she just disappeared without a word.”

“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” I said, then decided to change the subject. “Are you nervous about meeting Sam’s ex?”

“A little, but I’m sure it will be fine. They haven’t been together for a really long time,” she said. “But enough about that, how are you?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to figure out what I’m doing wrong and I think having time to focus will help with that.”

“Oh Christopher, you put too much pressure on yourself. You’re an amazing pitcher. Just go out there and play catch like your dad used to tell you to do.”

Only my mother uses my full name, which is better than Christy, which is what she used to call me when I was younger. To everyone else, including my father, I’ve been Rusty since a coach gave me the nickname back in middle school. Between my hair color and having the last name Russell, it fits.

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