“We’ve done a pretty good job of sticking together and getting through things,” Norbert added. “I know that’s what Analise would have wanted. That’s why the kids travel with me whenever they can. When they’re in school and I’m on the road, my brother and his wife take care of them for me. But I miss them a lot when I’m away.”

The story, Stevie realized, had taken a turn he hadn’t expected. Time to switch gears.

“So, Morra, David, sounds like you travel with the team a lot,” he said. “Tell me what that’s like.”

Morra thought for a moment and then laughed. “It’s a whole lot different up here in the majors than the minors,” she said.

“Charter planes instead of charter buses,” David said. “Dad’s been given more stuff-gloves, bats, caps, even socks-in the last two months than the whole time he was in the minors.”

“Pretty close to true,” Norbert said, nodding.

“They even put your number on your socks,” David added.

“Why do you think they do that?” Susan Carol asked, suddenly curious.

“I asked that myself,” Norbert said. “It’s so they can tell whose socks belong to whom when they do laundry.”

“So they do your laundry for you?” Stevie said.

“They do everything for you,” Norbert said. “When we go on a road trip like this one, there’s a clubhouse kid assigned to me-just to me-to make sure all my uniforms and equipment and anything I need gets into a trunk and gets on the plane. When I drive to the airport to meet the team, there’s no security check and I just hand my bags to someone, and the next time I see them is in my hotel room.”

“On this trip they had a charter for the families,” David said. “It was amazing.”

“A little different than Sumter or Boise or Greensboro, that’s for sure,” Norbert said. He laughed. “It was in Sumter that my battery blew in hundred-and-five-degree heat, and I didn’t have enough money to buy a new one. I had to go around the clubhouse and…”

He stopped in midsentence. Nationals manager Manny Acta was approaching the table.

For a second Stevie wondered if maybe they’d lingered too long and Acta didn’t like the idea of one of his players spending so much time with a couple of reporters on the morning of game two of the World Series. But he had a smile on his face as he approached. “Talking to my favorite kid reporters, huh, Norby?” he said as he walked up. Both Stevie and Susan Carol had spent some time with Acta during the playoffs, and he’d always been accommodating and accessible.

“Telling them about every city I ever played in,” Norbert said. “That takes a while.”

Acta laughed. “We play at eight-thirty tonight,” he said. “I’m not sure there’s enough time.”

He shook hands with Stevie and Susan Carol and said hello to the Doyle kids, whom he clearly knew. He looked at Norbert and said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The implication-that he didn’t want to talk to Norbert in front of everyone-was obvious. “Sure, Manny,” Norbert said, clearly a bit baffled.

He and Acta walked across the restaurant and out the door.

“What do you think that’s about?” Susan Carol asked. “I mean, it’s okay for your dad to be interviewed now, isn’t it?”

“Sure, it’s okay,” David said. “I have no idea what this is about.”

They sat quietly for a moment. Stevie wanted to say again how sorry he was about their mother but decided it wasn’t a good idea. Susan Carol broke the silence by asking what sports David and Morra played. Not surprisingly, David said he played basketball and baseball. Morra, as it turned out, was a swimmer. She and Susan Carol launched into a discussion of times and splits and sets that left David and Stevie rolling their eyes at one another. Stevie was extremely relieved when he saw Norbert Doyle walking back toward the table.

“What was that about, Dad?” David said, asking the question for all four of them.

Norbert Doyle sat down, looking a little stunned. “You aren’t going to believe it,” he said. “I don’t believe it.”

They waited. “Ross Detwiler got out of bed this morning and felt something click inside his knee. They think it’s his MCL, but it could be worse. Either way, he can’t possibly start tonight. None of the other starters are close to rested enough, since the LCS went seven games and all the other long guys in the bullpen worked last night.”

Stevie could see that Morra and David’s eyes were popping out. “Dad,” Morra said. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m starting tonight,” Norbert Doyle said. “I’m starting game two of the World Series.”

Stevie and Susan Carol left soon after that. Acta wanted Norbert Doyle to meet with pitching coach Randy St. Claire and catcher Wil Nieves as soon as possible to go over the Red Sox lineup, since he had never faced it. “The good news is, they’ve never faced me either,” he said. “They probably don’t have much of a scouting report, since I wasn’t supposed to be on the postseason roster.”

“You nervous?” Stevie asked.

“Absolutely not,” Norbert said. “What’s about five steps up from nervous? Scared to death? I’d say that’s about right.”

They broke up in the lobby, Norbert heading off for his meeting. Stevie and Susan Carol thanked the Doyle kids, and they all exchanged cell phone numbers. “What a day this is turning out to be for you guys,” Susan Carol said.

“No kidding,” David answered. “To be honest, just seeing Dad introduced on the field last night was pretty huge. I don’t think any of us thought he’d get into a game unless it was ten to nothing one way or the other.”

Susan Carol was beaming. “What a wonderful story.”

Morra shook her head. “It’s wonderful that he’s pitching. But let’s see how he pitches.”

“That’s my sister,” David said. “She can find the black cloud in every silver lining.”

“Maybe she’s really Stevie’s twin,” Susan Carol said. She was smiling when she said it, but he knew she meant it.

Susan Carol was practically skipping on the way back to the hotel. “I don’t know who I’m happier for right now, Norbert or you,” she said.

“Or David Doyle maybe?” he said.

“Huh?”

“Come on, Susan Carol, you had the full Scarlett O’Hara bit going on back there.”

Susan Carol reddened a little, something he had never really seen her do before. “Well, that was my role here, right? Be nice to David?”

“Yeah, but there’s nice and there’s ‘naaace’-or let’s put it this way, I didn’t think you would enjoy it quite so much.”

Stevie was hoping she would say something like, “Come on, Stevie, you know you’ve got nothing to be jealous about.”

She didn’t say that, though. She didn’t say anything. He decided to drop it. He was sorry he had brought it up. Instead he took out his cell phone and called Kelleher.

“How’d it go with the old man?” Kelleher said. “He fill your notebook with stories about Amarillo, Texas?”

“He did,” Stevie said. “He also filled my notebook with a story about the fact that he’s starting tonight.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. “He’s what?” Kelleher said. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Ross Detwiler did something to his knee getting out of bed-” Stevie said.

“Getting out of bed?”

“Yeah, apparently. Anyway, none of the other starters are on schedule to pitch tonight, and they used the other two long guys in the bullpen last night-”

“So he’s it,” Kelleher broke in. “Wow. You better get back here and write this right away so we can get it up on the Web before anyone else finds out.”

The Internet had changed the newspaper business. There was no such thing as a first-edition deadline for the next day’s newspaper anymore. The writers were on twenty-four-hour call. If something happened that was newsworthy, they were expected to write it instantly to get it up on the Web. This was a perfect example.

“We’ll be back in a few minutes and I’ll start writing,” Stevie said.