“Not really.” He sounded positively grim.
Claire gave him a curious once-over before saying, “I’ll give her a call and discuss the particulars.”
“If it gets to be too much, let me know. I don’t want you feeling overwhelmed.”
“Don’t worry.” She dismissed his concern with a flick of her hand. “Steve and Jenny will be here for your party tomorrow. I’ll ask them if they’re available. It’s a little last-minute, but if they’re busy, I’m sure they’ll know some other people who could help serve.” Claire glanced at the flowers on the counter. “Now, I’d better get back to these. I have lots to do before tomorrow night.”
“Dinner at six?” Linc proposed, naming an earlier time than he usually ate so they could have a leisurely meal and still get home for Honey’s bedtime.
“Sure. That will be fine.”
Nodding, Linc headed for the stairs. With a packed schedule from February to October, he should have appreciated the downtime during off-season. Instead, he chafed at the inactivity. It gave him too much time to think.
Lately, he’d been preoccupied with life after baseball. He’d had a great run, but he was going to be thirty-four when his contract was up. Despite the fact that his performance hadn’t slowed, at that age, there was no way he would get another big deal. Nor was he even sure he’d still be playing for the Barons. How much longer did he think his career in the major leagues was going to last?
So what was he planning to spend the rest of his life doing? It wasn’t as if he needed the money. Even after taking car
e of his mother and sister, funding the charities he worked with, and buying and restoring his house, he’d spent only a small percentage of his millions. Most of the money went into investments that would sustain him long past his contract’s end.
What he needed was to find something that inspired him. Because when baseball no longer consumed his life, he was going to go crazy. He envied Knox’s passion for restoring Charleston’s historic properties and his love of sailing, both locally and all over the world. Linc had joined Knox on several adventures but preferred a spacious suite on land to the claustrophobic quarters of a sailboat.
Knox’s face appeared on the screen of Linc’s phone, as if his thoughts had summoned his friend. He answered the call.
“What’s up?”
“My afternoon appointment canceled,” Knox said, sounding chipper. “Want to hit the batting cages so I can give you a few tips? Maybe you can bring your average up next season.”
Linc grunted good-naturedly as he took the hit. He’d been in a slump for the last four weeks of the season. All the sports commentators pointed to his broken engagement as the reason, but that had been the cure, not the cause of his problem.
“Sure,” he said. “I need to change. Meet you in thirty?”
“See you then.”
An hour later, as he took his turn with the pitching machine, Linc felt some of his tension melt away. Playing baseball had always let him escape whatever troubled him. It had been a godsend when his father went to jail and then divorced Bettina, abandoning the three of them to start a new life. Sometimes Linc wondered if he would have been good enough to make it in the majors if he hadn’t practiced so much back then.
He’d devoted every spare second to batting practice and perfecting his fielding techniques. Granted, he’d been endowed with a great deal of natural talent as well, but mostly he attributed his success to hard work and determination.
“Want to grab a beer after this?” Knox asked as they exchanged places.
“Can’t.”
Knox shot him a look. “Got plans?”
“I’m having dinner...” Linc paused, gripped by a sudden reluctance to tell his best friend about the anniversary dinner with Claire. He didn’t want to hear Knox’s opinion on taking the beautiful widowed housekeeper and her adorable toddler out to dinner.
“Anyone I know?” Knox quizzed, his tone sly.
“It’s not like that,” Linc countered. As much as he hated keeping Knox in the dark, Linc didn’t want to get into a huge discussion about Claire. Deciding a subject change was in order, he steered his best friend on to the topic he loved best. “How’s the King Street project coming along? Have you got the plans approved yet?”
Six months ago Knox had purchased a building in the heart of the business district and was in the process of getting the permits to turn it into a ten-unit luxury condo complex. He’d paid four million for the property, and at the moment it was occupied by college students.
Working with their friend Austin’s architectural firm, he’d commissioned plans that would include two private roof decks, as well as amenity space that would hold up to forty-eight people in the rear. Built in 1947, the building wasn’t a historic property, but the location offered an opportunity for people to buy in the downtown area and that was always a draw.
“Not yet. The BAR requested we tweak a couple things on the rooftop decks before they’d give the go-ahead.” The Board of Architecture Review met only twice a month, so the approval process was never speedy. “We’re slotted into the agenda for next week, so hopefully the third time’s the charm.”
Knox didn’t sound particularly stressed about the delays. They were the norm when doing any construction or development in the old city and the historic district. In fact, as frustrating as the board could be as they scrutinized projects from a dozen different angles, Linc knew Knox appreciated the board’s dedication to preserving Charleston’s past.
Of course, there was the other, less sentimental motivation for keeping the romance of Charleston’s historic district alive: tourism. The city survived on its five million visitors each year who brought in nearly four billion dollars in revenue. And the number-one reason cited for visiting Charleston was the city’s history and historic sites, followed by restaurants and local cuisine.