Page 12 of Big Pitch Energy

“He's always been so driven,” she continued. “Even as a little boy. When he sets his mind to something, watch out world.”

I turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry the container and set it on the table.

“How long is he in town for?” I asked, as I sat across from her again.

“Until the end of January, maybe the beginning of February,” she said. “Then he's off to spring training in mid-February.” She paused, her expression clouding slightly. “Hopefully. A lot depends on how his recovery goes.”

I nodded, absorbing this information. Six to seven weeks. That was how long Sam would be in Starlight Shores.

“Does he usually come home for that long?”

I’ve been living here four years and have never met Sam before yesterday. Chances are, if he was here for weeks at a time, I would have.

“No, not usually,” she said. “When Sam’s in between seasons, he takes me on a vacation, or I visit him in Myrtle Beach. He’ll come home for the holidays, but he doesn’t usually stay here like this. Not for this long anyway.”

I do remember Liz going away, often on extended trips. And of course, she travels to see Sam play.

“It’s nice you get to see each other so much.”

“I’m very fortunate. Sam is a good son. I just wish…” She trailed off and stared at me, her gaze sharper, more focused than it had been a moment ago.

“Wish what?”

“Oh nothing.” She waved her hand, as if to shoo the thought away. “But you know, Sam hasn’t gone out much since he came home. So many of his old friends have moved away, and the ones still here are married with small children.”

I lifted an eyebrow as I took a sip of water, letting the silence stretch just a beat longer.

“That's too bad.”

“It would be nice if he had someone to show him around, maybe introduce him to the new spots that have opened up since he left.”

“Starlight Shores isn't exactly a metropolis,” I said. “I doubt much has changed since he left.”

“Still,” she persisted, “it's always better to explore with someone who knows their way around.”

“Liz.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “I'm just saying my son could use a friend while he's home. Someone who understands the mind-body connection. Someone kind, intelligent, beautiful.”

“And I'm just saying that might not be appropriate, given that he's my client,” I countered.

“You're not his doctor.”

I laughed despite myself.

“I still have professional ethics.”

“Well, think about it.” She shrugged, unrepentant. “That's all I'm saying.”

After that, she dropped both the topic of Sam’s session and talk of me spending time with him outside the Reiki room. We chatted for a bit longer, the conversation light and easy, filled with stories and laughter. Eventually, she stood, stretching a little as she gathered her things, signaling it was time for her to go.

After she left, I grabbed a rag and polish to continue cleaning the studio, but my mind kept drifting to my conversation with Liz. She made it pretty clear that she’s trying to play matchmaker between her son and me. What surprised me though was my own reaction. It wasn’t irritation or embarrassment, but a flutter that felt suspiciously like anticipation.

I know way too much about Sam Cherry now. His career highs and lows. The way his hands had trembled slightly during our session. How he cooked chicken cacciatore so good it made you want to close your eyes and savor every bite. And somehow, none of it was enough. I wanted to know more.

I was in trouble, and I knew it.

Regardless, I couldn't help smiling.

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