Love from Left Field (9 page)

Cole spared him a glance. “We have subscriptions to all the major databases. But, we haven’t developed our own like many other teams.”

Lucas cocked his head. “That’s unfortunate. You should consider expanding that department, maybe with people from other groups. I might be able to suggest a few options.”

Miranda arched an eyebrow. “Now you’re willing to assist?”

He shrugged. “As you pointed out, I was assigned to turn your team around. I can’t very well sit here and do nothing.”

“Can we trust you?” Cole asked, skepticism in his voice.

“Can you afford not to?” Lucas countered. “You have real troubles. But in this document, you’ve outlined an excellent strategy. You have no way to implement it correctly, not in the time frame you have. But Miranda has identified some good areas to focus on. I won’t lie. It’s not going to be easy but it’s better than doing nothing.”

“Gee, thanks for the ringing endorsement.” Cole’s voice dripped with sarcasm and he sneered at Lucas.

“Enough.” Miranda stepped around the desk and between the two men. “We will do this, Cole. I know you’ve been implementing this on a small scale, wherever you could get away with it. Players you’ve selected and brought up. A few you’ve traded for. I’m sure you’ve talked with Sam and his staff about this – changing defense to shifting more, changing our pitching. You would have never agreed to offer Patterson as much as you did if you didn’t think he could fit in with this model. All I’m asking is that you come into the open and go for it. We’ll be headed to Florida and our spring training complex in a few days to talk with the staff personally. Have a report on my desk by tomorrow of what we can do and how we’ll do it. Got it?”

With one last grudging look at Lucas, he nodded once and stalked out of the office, closing the door carefully behind him.

Lucas turned to watch him leave. “You would think he’d be happy to finally do what he wanted. I hope the rest of your staff is more agreeable.” Lucas spoke softly, pleasantly.

Miranda swiveled on her heel and tilted her head to study him. “Frankly, I expected you to be less agreeable than you are. What changed your mind?”

He tossed the stapled packet on the desk. “This is a solid plan. Given the right amount of time and other factors, it would work.”

“So you’ve said,” she replied, coolly.

He stepped closer, forcing her head up further. “And you were right. I have responsibilities and if you’re willing to work at this, then I should step up.”

“Even if Roger disagrees?” She spoke quietly, voicing a critical question, testing his loyalty.

“Are you questioning my ethics again, Miranda?”

“I’m just seeing if you can be trusted.”

“Don’t trust anyone, Miranda. This is business. Not a social club.”

“Then you don’t belong to many social clubs, Lucas. I would trust more people in business than I would in social circles.” She turned on her heel and strode around the desk. “Is that everything?” She sat in her chair and clicked to waken her computer, ignoring him.

“Not quite. You’re going to Florida? I’d like to join you.”

“That won’t be necessary, Lucas. I can handle it just fine.” Her fingers tightened on the mouse and her gaze remained fixed on the screen.

“Our agreement, Miranda, was that I would be at every meeting. Include me in your travel arrangements. I’ll talk with Cole about a few analysts who might be open to joining your team. They love a challenge.”

He gave a slight bow, eyes never leaving hers, and he walked out of the room.

Miranda let out a deep exhale and allowed her head to fall forward, a sudden attack of nerves finally allowed to escape. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. She had played her hand, made her decision, and now she had to run with it. Like a base runner committed to going for two, she had rounded first base and had to make second or the inning, and the game, would be over. She had to succeed, even if her father would not approve at all.

Would she score or be thrown out by a mile?

*

Miranda walked down
the main aisle in the ticket sales department. Her mind spun from the updated numbers provided in the recap. Lucas had predicted this, but had not estimated how bad the sales were. They’d be lucky to fill half the stadium on a good day with good promotional items. But honestly, that wasn’t even a guarantee. People didn’t want prizes and trinkets. They wanted wins and affordable seats. Neither of which were promised by the Knights this season. And maybe not even in the next few seasons.

“Miranda? How’s your father doing?” A woman’s voice spoke from within one of the cubicles down Miranda’s left.

She glanced down and saw the hesitant face of an older woman. It took a moment but she refused to check at the nameplate to remember the woman’s name. Miranda had worked in ticket sales on her way to learning all functions of the team and this woman had been a mentor to her as she learned the job.

“Grace Ann! How are you?” The name came in a flash and she smiled warmly at the woman, reaching out for a hug.

The older woman stood and awkwardly embraced Miranda, as if somehow the action was a little too personal for their circumstances. At that moment, a few other people also stood and greeted Miranda.

“How’s Mr. Callahan, Miranda? We’ve been praying for him.” Grace Ann spoke softly, as if not everyone would pray for the cantankerous man.

Miranda understood more than anyone how difficult her father could be. Lord knew, he had been tough on her growing up, especially once she’d joined the business. While she didn’t always appreciate it, that same toughness prepared her for this situation. Some would say it was that toughness that made this situation as bad as it was but Miranda was looking forward, not backwards to blame someone. That time had passed. She had to fix the future or there wouldn’t be one to fix.

“He’s hanging in. He’s been moved to a regular room in the cardiac unit, then he’ll head for rehab.”

Mutters of “Praise be” greeted her words, along with comforting pats on the arm. Miranda smiled, feeling the love from her staff seeping into her with every touch, every smile. This was why she loved working for the Knights. They were family.

“How’s your new grandbaby, Grace Ann? Is she just wonderful?”

Before the question was even out of Miranda’s mouth, Grace Ann had pictures out to show her. After oohing and aahing, Miranda asked after other people and their family. Finally, after about ten minutes or so, the conversation wound down. Suddenly, the group went silent and a shiver up her spine indicated that it wasn’t just due to a lack of conversation. She turned her head and saw Lucas standing behind her, a carefully blank expression on his face. He glanced at his watch, not very subtly indicating they were late for another meeting.

Wanting him to know the staff like she did, she gestured him over to the group. “Lucas, you remember Grace Ann? She was here when your father was here. She always had those amazing oatmeal raisin cookies.”

He nodded politely. “Of course. Nice to see you again, Ms. Cox.”

“Hello, Mr. Wainright. I was sorry to hear about your father.” Grace Ann’s tone was just as cool and standoffish, but there was a hint of confusion in her eyes.

Miranda shot him a scathing look at his cool tone but he kept a polite expression on his face, not welcoming any further discussion. She gently extricated herself from the small group, promising to keep them posted on her father’s condition. When she finally crossed the small room, Lucas fell in beside her and they walked down the hallway.

“You shouldn’t get too close to your staff,” Lucas stated. “You never know if you have to lay them off.”

His words sent a chill into her heart. She froze in her steps and stared at him. After a few steps, he noticed she wasn’t with him and he turned back to her, a puzzled expression on his face. “What?”

“Do you really feel that way?”

He continued to frown then shrugged. “Yes. It’s business, not personal. Getting to know the staff makes it much harder to lay them off.”

The knob of a door prodded her in the back. Blindly she reached for it and opened it, dragging him into the small conference room after her. She closed the door and whirled to face him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I will run my team anyway I want. If I want to look at pictures of grandchildren and share recipes, I will. You can dictate my financial decisions, but not my life.”

“I’m not trying to dictate your life. I’m just offering a suggestion to make the next several months easier for you and for your staff.” He laid his tablet on the table and leaned a hip against it. “If you get too close, the staff takes a layoff as a personal attack, leading to hurt feelings, unfortunate things being said, and a difficult time for everyone. Keep your distance. It’s better.”

She stared at him, her brain whirling with this new information. This was not the Lucas she remembered. That Lucas had known every member of the staff like she did. He’d played with some of the kids at the annual post-season picnic. Now he was pretending to not know anyone, even Grace Ann, whose cookies Miranda knew Lucas loved.

“It’s also lonely.” She stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his arm, trying to ignore the firm muscles under the dress shirt. “Lucas, you grew up with these people. We both did. Your father made a point to walk around the floor and know everyone who worked here. Was he wrong?”

Lucas stiffened under her touch but didn’t move. “That was a long time ago.”

“It was ten years. These people came to the funeral.”

Lucas froze, his ice blue eyes boring hole in her. “How did you know that?”

Her hand dropped and she looked away. “I was there. I stayed in the back, but I came. Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t go to your father’s funeral?”

“Your father never came. Supposedly my father’s close friend and he never even checked in.”

She was shocked by the bitterness in his tone, the buildup of pain over the past several years. Her heart ached for the lonely boy who cut himself off from his family and friends after his father’s death, diving into work to avoid any connection. Suddenly, Lucas became clear in her eyes. She understood the challenge laid before her, not just with the Knights, but with Lucas. He needed to get involved more than just on financial decisions, but in reconnecting with his past.

“My father kept his distance because he thought that was what you wanted.” She spoke quietly, soothingly, hoping to take away some of his pain but not knowing how to do it.

Lucas’s shoulders sagged, as if the anger drained out of him. “Yeah, well, that’s the past.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”

He pushed off the table and grabbed his tablet. “We have work to do.”

“Hang on.” She laid a hand on his chest. “Are you expecting that we’ll be laying off staff?”

He shrugged. “You never know what you’ll have to do to turn this team around.”

She was shaking her head before he had even finished. “Not good enough. Tell me what you think. What would you do?”

“Fine.” He dropped the tablet on the wood and pulled out one of the chairs, gesturing her to do the same. She slowly sat, warily studying him. “Your operating budget is actually pretty lean. I assume that’s the area you were allowed to truly oversee?”

She nodded. “My father let me have free rein over that. I tried to improve our processes and functions to keep it streamlined and as tight as possible.”

A faint hint of approval crossed his face. “You’ve succeeded, for the most part. Cutting anything on the operating side won’t get you anywhere near where you need to be for financial security. Any further cuts there might actually hurt more than it helps.”

“Thank you.”

“That being said, you’re still in trouble. Your issue is not operating costs but revenue. In other words, you have no revenue.”

Her head dropped at the truth in his words. “I know. We need more attendance.”

“Honestly, I can’t see you getting more attendance with the team, you know. Do you listen to the sports talk shows? Your team is projected back in the cellar. Despite being in the playoffs last season, too many players leaving have your fans assuming it’s all over. You have a major problem with fan expectations. They have no faith in you or trust that your team will ever win a game much less lead the league.”

“And wins matter.”

“Wins are everything. We’re in this business for the series, not for popcorn and bobble heads. Fans don’t care about anything other than rooting for a winner. And the Knights are not winners.”

She winced at his words, like knives stabbing her repeatedly. She sighed. He was right. But how could they fix it?

M
iranda studied the
list of players and their associated statistics, the result of several days of research and discussion. Several sets of eyes bored holes in her. She glanced up at Cole, Jason, Lucas, and the wonder twins, her statisticians whose names she still didn’t know. Two young men with spectacles and the distracted look of people who spent their time hunched over keyboards and talking numbers, never really seeing other people or emerging from their data cave. Cole and Lucas assured her they were very good at their jobs and she was lucky to have them. Too bad they spoke a foreign language that she really never understood, despite passing statistics in college. They made her feel stupid and she was done with that feeling.