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The rain was relentless, streaming down like sheets, but the stands inside Safeco Field were comfortable because the roof was closed. The intermittent, daunting pounding on the roof was mostly drowned out by the boisterous crowd. Nancy was seated behind the Mariner dugout, clinging to a cup of wine when I arrived. She wore a player’s blue Mariner jacket and baseball cap, the curls of her brunette hair bouncing beneath. She greeted me with bright brown, almond eyes, pert freckled nose, and genuine smile. I hadn’t seen her since my divorce and she looked younger now than then, a sign that life was going well for her. I sat, kissed her on the cheek.
“You’re looking great, Nanc,” I said.
“I don’t know that my mirror agrees with you, but thanks.” She flashed me one of those impish looks w
