The Change Up (7 page)

“Oh, come on! One time. Give it here.” He held up his outstretched left hand.

Sam froze.
Go on. Humor the man. It's not a big deal.
At least it wasn't supposed to be a big deal. But he stood there, looking at the ball as if it were a foreign object. Finally, slowly, he bent over and grabbed it. Soft and gritty. Maybe a little waterlogged, too. Nothing like the snow-white, silky smooth baseballs from his past. God, how he'd loved to scuff the hell out of those with one swing. He squeezed the ball over and over again as he wandered a few steps forward.

“Are you going to throw it or kiss it?” Ian asked, and that's when Sam realized he was standing at first base. There was no bag, but the angle was spot-on. A first baseman never forgot this view.

Sam's breathing shuttered. How big of a mistake would it be to finally admit how much he missed this game?

A noisy flock of birds attracted attention overhead.

“They'd better not unload!” Ian yelled with a laugh. And all Sam could do was look skyward, remembering how his mother had encouraged him to race flocks just like that when he'd been a kid. He'd never had a chance of beating them, but there'd been no better early training for the sixty-yard dash. So long ago. Another lifetime.

He dropped the ball, motioned for Ian, and walked off the field. The only thing he was going to admit was what he'd been admitting for the last ten years: he'd let his mother down because he'd put baseball first. He wasn't going to let her down again.

When Ian caught up with him, Sam said, “You up for a beer?”

“Hell yeah. And can I add you're a lot more fun to work with than your brother—even if you won't pick up a ball.”

“I picked up a ball.”

“Okay. Then maybe next time we can get you to throw it.”

Fat chance. “No time to be messing around, man. We need to put our thick heads together and hash out some numbers.”

“There's way too much math involved in landscaping,” Ian said, laughing. “Who knew?”

Sam would've laughed, too, if he wasn't staring at those damn trees again. They needed to be his driving purpose, now. He couldn't afford to let baseball distract him.

At eight o'clock on Friday morning, Rachel's last day in Arlington—
thank God
—Mark Olean called her mobile phone, which connected through her BMW's hands-free calling.

“I've been trying to get a hold of your father,” he said. “I've left multiple voicemails with no response. Today, I called his office, and they referred me to you.”

Rachel suppressed the alarm that came with the knowledge that her father either wasn't getting or was forgetting important voicemails and asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I know I said I'd be in town this weekend and ready to start, but something urgent has come up, and I need until next month to get things settled here. I plan to work remotely as much as possible as long as it's okay with your father.”

Rachel closed her eyes briefly. “Mark, we really need you here.”

“I know, but I really need to be here right now. If I could tell you more, I would. I just … I understand if you want to cut ties and hire someone else.”

“No.” That was the last thing she wanted to explain to her father. Securing Mark Olean had been his top objective. “We'll manage.” Somehow.

When Rachel disconnected the call, she swore under her breath.

“That sucks,” Liv said. “Olean was supposed to take over for us and act as point for hiring the rest of the front-office staff. Now what? Can he do that from a distance?”

“Not easily,” Rachel said, and she zipped around a loudly painted plumbing van doing 20 in a 35-miles-per-hour zone. “What choice do we have but to let him try? We have other responsibilities.” Despite lengthy, nightly phone calls with Richard, Rachel still felt out of the loop when it came to their business dealings in Philadelphia, and she still had to find some time to get to Pittsburgh for some face time with the senior management team.

“Right, so you and I leave today as planned. And the people from the temp agency, who are starting on Monday will just … wing it?”

Not to mention the cowboy grounds crew Rachel had hired. They would definitely need to be corralled now and then, especially once Sam got word local government officials had given the green light for the tree cutting. Something about those dirty jeans and that cocky smile made her think he would rebel.

Rachel hated the fact that a tiny piece of her wanted to be around to see that.

She exhaled loudly. “Maybe my father can hold it together long enough to get us through until Mark gets here.”

“Maybe,” Liv said, but when Rachel glanced at her, she saw the look of doubt.

“Damn it.” But even as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, she refused to unleash her panic. “Let's think this through, shall we? Technically, the only people from the temp agency we need to worry about right now are the ones manning the telephones and preseason ticket sales. They start on Monday, and we have a software rep scheduled to train them. He confirmed, right?”

“Yes,” Liv said. “His flight arrives tonight, and I set him up with a rental car and a room at the Uncomfortable Inn. Mark was supposed to meet him for breakfast, but since Mark's not coming in now, I'll have to make sure those plans get changed.”

“We can hang back tonight and take him to dinner, explain the situation. I'll see if my father is able to come. That will buy us some time. In the meantime, see if you can set up a meeting with the sales lead. What was her name?”

“Um …” Liv's fingers raced over the screen of her iPad. “Chelsea Gross.”

“Yes, her. Get me a meeting with her. I'll decide whether or not I think she can handle a little more responsibility than originally planned.” Rachel lifted her cup from the console and pressed it to her lips. “I can always come back next week sometime and check in on the ticket office to make sure things are running smoothly.”

“So Chelsea will be the only on-site person in charge … of everything?”

Rachel swallowed her tasteless coffee and thought of some local girl who'd been hired to sell season tickets landing in what could be perceived as a remote power position over the likes of a motley janitorial crew and Sam Sutter with his trusty frat-boy sidekicks. The words “potential disaster” came to mind. If a half-assed staff flubbed up this season, she would never sell the team.

It's probably the last thing I'm ever going to ask of you.

“I have to stay,” she said, almost silently.

“What?”

“You know how crazy I get when a deal is in jeopardy.”

Liv nodded. “Certifiable.”

“Well, Mark not being here puts the deal in jeopardy, and this deal is like no other. So much is riding on it.” She exhaled. “Turns out my father used the house as collateral in the stadium purchase.”

“Yikes,” Liv said.

“Tell me about it. I know it's a pipe dream to sell this team before the season starts in three months, which is why I've given myself until the end of the season before I panic, but the pressure is on, Liv. If I fail, my father's not only going to lose his net worth, my family is going to lose their home.” Helen Anne and Macy included.

Once again, the fact that her brilliant father made such an irrational business decision set her teeth on edge.

“That's a lot of pressure,” Liv said.

“I can handle it. And to handle it, I need to stay.”

“Okay. So we stay.” Liv smacked her lips around another mouthful of Buster's infamous coffee. “Richard will love playing king a little while longer.”

Rachel shook her head. “I stay. You go. We'll rent a car for you right now, and you can fly out of Pittsburgh.”

“But …” Liv frowned.

“I won't be far behind. Maybe I can convince Mark to make it into town sooner. And if not, I'll simply concentrate on helping him hire the rest of the front office, and then I'll be off the hook and can focus on selling this beast.” Liv still didn't look sold on the plan, so Rachel added, “I need one of us to be in Philadelphia to keep an eye on things.”

Liv sat a little bit straighter. “Can I use your desk while you're gone?”

Rachel chuckled. “Yes. As long as you keep it clean. I don't want to find one single sticky Frappuccino ring on the enamel.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Then Liv drank her mud water and got quiet, which gave Rachel way too much time to ponder the predicament she was in.

She sold commercial real estate. She developed commercial real estate. She wasn't a human resource professional. RCRE's Philadelphia division had its very own personnel department, which she occasionally interacted with. It was by no means an alternative to formal training. But that, along with common sense, would probably enable her to do a respectable job here. Too bad she didn't know a little more about the business of baseball. Hopefully her father would continue to be a resource. If not, Mark was going to have to be brought into the Alzheimer's loop sooner than her father wanted, because Rachel wasn't sure she could do this on her own.

Ugh.
She hated being in this position. She rarely lost her footing. The steps to success were clear. At least they had been. Now, everything looked hazy.

As she drove, she stared out the windshield, watching the Hobby Mart, the super-sized Sheetz, and the high school fly by. Another week in Arlington. This was about to be her longest stay since the summer before her freshman year in college. She could handle it.

She could handle anything.

• • •

With some input from his father, Sam finished the stadium landscaping proposal Wednesday evening, but he waited until Friday afternoon to take it to the stadium. He'd heard Rachel was leaving town this morning. By now, she would be gone and her father would be back at the helm, which meant Sam could stroll into the office and have a man-to-man discussion about what made the most sense when it came to those trees.

He felt calm and confident and … kicked in the balls when he walked into the office and saw Rachel behind the desk.

“Surprise,” she said, sounding about as pleased as he must've looked.

“Uh, yeah. I was expecting your father.”

“I figured from the way your eyebrows tried to climb off your scalp. Sorry to disappoint you.” She stood up and walked across the room on a pair of teetering tan heels to pull open the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. Her skirt revealed acres of legs. Miles really. And he had no doubt those legs felt as good as they looked.
Damn.
Why couldn't she have gone back to Philadelphia? It would've saved him a hell of a lot of aggravation.

“Listen,” he said, sounding gruffer than usual. “I have the proposal you asked for, but I'd really like your father to see it, too. He owns the team, after all.”

She glared up at him from her seductive crouch. “My father is busy. This baseball team is one of a dozen business dealings for Reed Commercial Real Estate Services. And while he's busy, I'm his eyes and ears. If you have a problem with that, then I can always find another grounds crew.” She stood and kicked the drawer shut. “Believe me, I'm a personnel pro these days.”

She was plenty pissed, but he got another vibe from her, too. Frustration, maybe? He didn't know. He shouldn't care. She'd basically threatened to fire Sutter & Sons. Without any of the flirty tension that had simmered between them the other day, he imagined she was capable of following through, especially in her current mood.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, trying to strike the right chord, one that wouldn't piss her off even more.

“Everything is fine.” She sounded annoyed, but when she looked at him she actually smiled. “Now, I can only give you twenty minutes, because I have a conference call.” She sat and didn't bother to roll her chair closer to the desk. Instead, she crossed her bare legs and stared at him expectantly.

He dropped his gaze to her knees, let it travel momentarily to the shadow between her thighs, and then fought a rush of heat to make eye contact. “The details are all in here,” he said, losing his head for a moment and offering her the folder.

She hit him with a melodramatic frown. “You mean there's no presentation? What a disappointment. I was expecting to sit back and watch someone else do all the work for a change.”

Again, his gaze dropped to her legs, and for a minute, he imagined sinking to his knees right there, so she could sit back and really watch him work … But then, she cleared her throat, bringing his attention back to her face and an expression that was laced with superiority on top of amusement.

“Just give me the gist of what's in that folder, and I'll take a closer look later,” she said. “Although, I'm sure we both know what you're ultimately trying to achieve here.”

Why did it feel like she was always one step ahead of him?

“I wouldn't be doing the job you hired me for if I didn't give you the most cost-effective options to make these grounds beautiful. Keeping those trees is by far the best way to save money and preserve the visual integrity of the land.”

She stood, walked over to the windows lining the exterior wall of the stadium, and with the flip of a switch, opened the blinds. Sunlight poured in, washing out everything in its path, leaving him with a view of his trees that would make a photographer weep. Ethereal branches mixed with lush pines. The shadow of buds hinted at spring. The gradient of colors, greens and browns, were bright where the sun could reach, but too dark to be differentiated near the ground.

“They are definitely pretty,” she said.

It felt like a fastball, even looked like one coming off the grip, but his gut told him
changeup
, and he tensed.

“Why are those trees so important to you?” she asked. The sincerity on her face surprised him more than the words did.