Read Online Finding Hope by Brenda Coulter - Free Book Online Page A

flattering.”
    â€œI thought you’d be busy saving people tonight,” she pointed out.
    â€œNo. Tonight they’ll just have to take their chances with Dr. Olmstead.”
    â€œI’ll drive,” Hope offered. “You need to relax. Besides, you probably don’t know the best way to get to Comiskey Park.”
    â€œHope, the Cubs are at Wrigley Field. The White Sox are at Comiskey.” His eyes darkened with suspicion. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know that?”
    â€œJust making sure.” She sniggered. “I wouldn’t want to waste these good tickets on someone who doesn’t like baseball.”
    He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a disgusted look. “Hope, I was playing baseball two years before you were born.”
    She scooped up her sewing things and bent to stuff them into the canvas bag that sat on the floor. “Play catch with the chauffeur, did you, rich boy?” she asked wickedly.
    Lightning-quick, he leaned forwards and gave her ponytail a teasing tug. “Little League,” he corrected. “Third base. Of course Mother hated my playing with the ‘dirty urchins,’ as she called them, but Granddad told her it was a rite of passage for American boys. They let me play for two years, then I had to quit. But later, Tom got to play. I enjoyed watching him, but I was always a little envious. I had some natural ability and I wanted desperately to play.”
    â€œDid your parents go to your games?”
    â€œNo. Never. But Granddad came a few times, and we appreciated that.” His eyes held a faraway look that was a little sad and very unlike the tight, angry expression he usually wore when he spoke of his family. “Hope, that’s about as far as I want to stroll down memory lane, if you don’t mind.”
    She nodded, understanding, then she gave him a bright smile and changed the subject. “Let’s go say goodbye to Gramps.”
    Â 
    Even though the Cubs were down by three runs going into the bottom of the sixth inning, Hope was having a wonderful time. Charles, appearing completely relaxed as he roundly criticized umpires and shouted helpful instructions to the players, was learning how to eat sunflower seeds like a major leaguer.
    Hope directed him to put a handful of shells in his mouth, separate one from the rest, use his tongue and teeth to extract the tiny seed, then spit out the empty shell.
    â€œHold them in your cheek, like a squirrel,” she encouraged. “Then do them one at a time. It’s an art form.”
    He gave her a doubtful look.
    She grabbed his wrist as his hand moved to extract a shell from his mouth. “No,” she said firmly. “That’s not the way I showed you.”
    â€œDo you honestly expect me to spit?”
    â€œLook around you, Charlie. You’re at a ballpark, not the Ritz hotel. Loosen up!”
    He did, literally. He had left his suit coat in Hope’s car, but now he unknotted his tie and pulled it off, wordlessly handing it to her. He unbuttoned his collar and rolled up the sleeves of his sapphire-blue dress shirt.
    The crowd roared as the Cubs loaded the bases. When the visiting team’s manager headed out to the mound, Hope giggled and blew a goodbye kiss to the pitcher.
    She draped Charles’s tie around her neck and tied a neat four-in-hand knot as he looked on. Then she undid it and tied a half-Windsor, followed by a Shelby.
    When Charles’s attention wandered she elbowed him. “Don’t you want to see my Ronald Reagan Special? When he was president he always did the full Windsor.”
    He leaned close so she could hear him over the wild crowd. “You’re too young to remember President Reagan. And, Hope, I would rethink the navy tie with the brown T-shirt.”
    She ignored him, groaning in dismay at a called strike that clearly would have been “ball four” to any umpire with twenty-twenty