The Change Up (27 page)

Helen Anne and Macy joined them in the entrance hall, both wearing Arlington Aces hats like the one Rachel wore, her sleek ponytail pulled through the back.

“We'll meet you there,” Helen Anne said.

“Where are you going?” Danny asked.

“To the baseball game, Pop-Pop!” Macy bounced up and kissed his cheek. “Aunt Rachel got me seats behind home plate!”

Rachel smiled and high-fived her niece even as she worried her father might not be able to tolerate the excitement of the day. Lord knows he hadn't wrapped his mind around all the changes. Maybe he never would. Which was fine with Rachel. He could think he still owned the team until the day he died. He would own it vicariously through her.

“Where's Liv?” Helen Anne asked.

“Already at the stadium.”

“Is Liv moving to Arlington, too?” Macy had gotten used to having Liv around. When Liv was here, she was the youngest adult in the house, and that earned her major cool marks with Macy. But, unfortunately, Liv was staying in Philadelphia to help Richard in his new, permanent capacity of Senior Vice President and Broker.

Rachel shook her head and was about to answer Macy's question when Danny asked, “Who's moving to Arlington?”

“I am, Dad.” Rachel placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember how we talked about me moving back home and working with the baseball team full-time?”

His forehead wrinkled, and her heart dipped. He didn't remember. But then a sort of recognition flashed in his eyes, and he smiled. “We're going to win a championship.”

“You bet we are,” she said, sending up a prayer that his memory would remain intact long enough for him to still care about a championship once she was able to deliver one.

He'd said the same thing in the lawyers' office last week, during a particularly lucid few hours in which they were able to hash out the terms of the sale, making sure it was fair and equitable. Apparently a championship had been his personal and private goal all along, and the minute she'd heard that, she knew she would spend the rest of his life trying to make that dream come true.

It dawned on her that maybe she was falling into old patterns, making business decisions based on what her father wanted, but she wanted this as much, if not more, than he did. She wanted it for herself. She wanted it for him. And she wanted it for Sam, who had five years of age eligibility left.
Five years.
She knew the odds of her father remaining fully engaged five years from now were slim, so she'd given herself three years. Max. The Arlington Aces were going to win the Independence League championship, and that was that.

Once the Reeds were at the stadium, ensconced in the modest owner's box above the third-base line, Liv joined them. She was dressed in jeans and an oversized Aces jersey unbuttoned at the bottom and tied at her waist.

“Cute,” Rachel said. “Did you have to raid the locker room to get that?”

Liv blushed. “No! I've gotten to know Quincy, the equipment guy, pretty well. He snagged me one that wasn't being used. I hope that's okay. I don't want to get him in trouble.”

“It's fine,” Rachel said. An authentic jersey was the least she could do for the woman who had been her right hand through all of this. Her right hand and best friend. Somehow, some way, Rachel was going to bring that girl back to Arlington.

Adele appeared a few minutes later, wearing her Aces ID on a rhinestone lanyard around her neck. “The coaches want to know if you're coming down to say a few words of encouragement to the team before the game.”

Rachel blinked. “I …”

“Absolutely!” her father said, standing. “I'd like to say a few words to my boys.”

Rachel shared a worried glance with her mother, and then she scrambled to her feet. “I'll go with you, Dad.”

“Of course you will. You're my co-captain.” He smiled at her, an expression that was riddled with deeper meaning, and the longer he stared at her, the more she sensed his gratitude.
Co-captain.
She liked it. The word was gender-neutral, unlike daughter or son, and equal.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Let's go see your boys.”

Along the way, Adele shot Rachel looks, as if to say, “What are we supposed to do?”

Rachel answered with reassuring smiles. The coaching staff knew about her father's diagnosis. Sam knew. By now, the rest of the players might know, too. What was the worst thing that could happen? He would forget why he was there? No big deal. She would pick up where he left off. They would do this … together, like co-captains.

The locker room was silent when they walked in. Rachel immediately honed in on Sam. He sat in a folding chair, facing his locker. But he glanced over his shoulder, and a smile lit up his gorgeous face. She tried to play it cool for the sake of professional impartiality, but she hadn't seen him in two weeks, and he looked amazing—better than she remembered. So she grinned. At him. And didn't care if it was inappropriate. She owned the team—or at least she would officially own the team soon, once the paperwork and the assets were cleared for closing, which was a small technicality, really. This team was destined to be hers the minute she'd stepped inside the stadium.

Twenty-four men and one woman dressed in crisp, clean, blue-and-white Aces uniforms sat in folding chairs in front of their lockers, looking at the Reeds expectantly. They were ready to play. Ready to win. Rachel could read it on their serious faces.

Various coaches milled around the room, which smelled warm and oddly chalky, but it was Coach Slater who stepped up and shook her father's hand and then hers.

“Aces,” Coach said. “Our owner would like to say a few words.”

Danny stepped right up to the proverbial plate, and Rachel didn't try to stop him. Instead, she made eye contact with Sam, but he looked wary, probably because as far as he knew the team was still on the auction block. Little did he know. Rachel grinned at him again, and he looked confused, which made her chuckle.

“Gentlemen,” her father said in a booming voice that echoed off the low ceiling and metal lockers.

Rachel couldn't help but look at the sole female and flash an apologetic smile. Hopefully, her father wouldn't forget he lived in a world where women were as capable as men—even on the mound.

“We're going to win a championship,” he said.

There was a stunned beat of silence before the room erupted with cheers that went on so long Rachel's father seemed to forget why he was there. When the locker room quieted, he froze, so Rachel stepped up, linked her arm with his, and added, “We're honored to be a part of this journey with you. The people of Arlington are honored, too. Play hard. Win big. We'll be rooting for you.”

As far as rally speeches went, it was short and pretty terrible, but she would have other chances to say different words.

This was only the beginning.

• • •

Sam wasn't sure what to think about today. So far, it surprisingly outmatched his minor-league debut in nerves. Possibly because the stadium was filled with people he knew, including his father and brother. Probably because he hadn't suited up and played a truly meaningful game in ten years. Then there was that pep talk Rachel and her father had given. He'd expected it to be a little off, considering his other interactions with Danny Reed, but Sam got the sense something else was going on, too.

Nowadays, he was always looking for that changeup and the excitement it would bring.

When some of Sam's teammates had asked about Mr. Reed, Coach explained about the Alzheimer's, but nobody had said a word about the team being on the auction block. Sam didn't know who—if anyone—knew, other than Benny. He didn't care anymore. Playing for a singular season was exactly the way they all should be playing. Actually, playing for a single game was even better. Nobody was guaranteed tomorrow. All they had was right now.

And right now, Sam stood on first base, waiting for “Fries” to deliver the first pitch to a batter who looked polished enough in warm-up swings to have seen some time in at least the minors. But the big guy whiffed the two-blink fastball right down the middle, looking considerably less skilled in full motion.

Next pitch. Same thing. That got the decent-sized crowd cheering. It wasn't a sellout, but it still sounded good to Sam.

Another windup. Another pitch. And everything went still for a fraction of a second as the beefy guy sat on the pitch too long before making contact. The late swing sent the ball barreling straight for Sam. Pure adrenaline fueled his sudden movement—a lunge to the right of the base, where he snagged the ball after an errant hop, and then a sprint to the bag, where he beat the runner.

One out.

All day, all night
, Sam thought, feeling settled in his skin, looking forward to his turn at the plate.

That came in the bottom of the second. Unfortunately, the Youngstown Yardigans had one hell of a starting pitcher, who'd managed to sit the Aces down one, two, three, which meant Sam, who was batting cleanup, strolled out to the mound as the first batter, and promptly struck out on a fastball he expected to be a changeup.

Frustration marred his jog back to the dugout. When he sat, “Uncle” Pete, the hitting coach, sat beside him, spitting seeds every few seconds. Finally, Pete said, “Keep your weight back.”

Sam nodded.

“For as long as possible,” Pete added. “Give yourself time to relax.” He spit again. “Take it all in. Then you react.” With a slap to Sam's back, Pete was gone.

Sam had never realized it before, but baseball was one hell of a metaphor for life.

In the bottom of the third, the Aces rung up two on the strength of Ian's lead-off double and Sam's stand-up triple. After that, the Yardigans fell apart, and the Aces went on to win the home opener 10–zip.

The high was incomparable—except for maybe the moments he'd been tangled up with Rachel. He showered with those moments in mind, which was tricky while naked and hopped up on adrenaline, and Sam would've lingered in the hot spray had Coach not come looking for him.

“Sutter, you're wanted upstairs in the business office.”

Probably something to do with the arboretum. “Be right there,” he called, then killed the water, and wrapped up in a towel in case Pauly had finally made it back from signing autographs and talking with her family.

Apparently, a lot of Sam's teammates were still out on the field, though, which gave him plenty of freedom and space to dress. He'd been told to look sharp, so he'd bought a new tan-colored suit. Paired with a crisp white dress shirt he'd left open at his throat, Sam felt pretty damn good, and he left the locker room with a spring in his step.

On his way upstairs, his mood continued to rise as he texted with his father and brother, fielding more congratulations. He loved that they could be so closely involved because he was playing in Arlington. Home games had never felt this good in the minors. Sam had never felt this full.

“Hi.”

The minute he stepped off the elevator, he saw Rachel, standing in the middle of the reception area, decked out in the same white-and-blue dress that had knocked the wind out of him when she'd walked into the locker room before the game. Only now, the ball cap was gone and her hair fell freely around her shoulders.

“God, you look beautiful,” he said.

She grinned, letting her gaze wander over him. “So do you.”

He walked toward her, not exactly sure of what he would—or should—do once he was there.

“Care to step into my office?” she asked coyly.

He glanced around them. “Are you the person I'm meeting?”

“I hope so,” she said laughing. “Who are you meeting?”

“I don't know. I was just told to come up here. I figured it had something to do with the arboretum.”

“Sort of.”

He smiled. “Now I'm intrigued.”

“You should be,” she said, turning and heading toward the open door at the end of the hall, giving him a lovely view of her swinging hips and strong strides.

When she shut the door behind him, he made his move … only to be halted by her hand on his chest. “We need to talk.”

He might've felt rebuffed if it weren't for her fingernails scraping a light rhythm that hummed straight to his core. “Among other things,” he said, letting his voice drop in suggestion.

She smiled. “I've missed you.”

Screw it.
He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her in, keeping her hand pinned to his chest. “If that's the way you're going to talk, we're going to get to those other things pretty damn quick.” He brushed his lips against the feathery hair at her temple, breathing in the rich, clear spice of her perfume, and whispered, “You have no idea how much I've missed you.”

Her free hand roamed his back beneath his suit coat. “Are you happy, Sam?”

“Ecstatic,” he whispered against her ear, loving the way she shuddered.

“Good, because I bought the team.”

He straightened and met with her anxious expression. Maybe he'd heard her wrong, because what he'd heard didn't exactly make sense. “I thought the deal was done with those other guys. I thought that's why you made the arboretum happen. It was a consolation prize.”

With his grip loosened, she brought both hands to his shoulders. “I don't believe in consolation prizes. Winner takes all. And this time, we all win.”

“
You
bought the Aces?” His mind spun with the implications.

She nodded. “Thoughts?”

“I think my brain might explode.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. “Well, we can't have that,” she said, brushing her lips back and forth against his. “Nobody wants a brainless first baseman.”

He kissed her—open mouths, tangled tongues—and backed her up until she hit the door. “I don't want anyone to want me but you,” he whispered harshly.