Love from Left Field

by Megan Ryder

  Miranda leaned forward. “Your bad eating habits, lack of exercise, and insane desire to control everyone and everything got you in this situation. The work stress didn’t help.”

  “Where’s Cole? I need Cole in here.”

  “Father.” Miranda leaned forward and spoke soothingly. “Only family is allowed in here. You know that.”

  “Bah, he’s my right hand. I need to give him instructions before Opening Day. The team can’t run without me.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Miranda asked, frustration in her voice. “If you had let go of some of the day to day operations, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Everyone keeps saying that.”

  “Maybe it’s true, Seamus.” Gwen brushed the thinning red hair liberally sprinkled with white back from his forehead. “I’ve been telling you for years now to slow down, let other people do their job. Look where it got you. If you die, I swear I’ll follow you and kill you all over again.”

  The affection in her tone did nothing to hide the thread of steel in her voice, or the thread of fear.

  He patted her hand. “Easy Gwennie. I’m going nowhere. I’m too crabby to die. The devil doesn’t want me and heaven is no place for me. I’ll be around a long, long time.”

  Gwen kissed the back of his hand and held it. “We should go and let you rest now.”

  “Not yet.” He barked, his voice capturing some of the vigor that had been lost. “Wainright and the damn league are trying to take over the team. He doesn’t think I know, but he’s been making deals behind my back. But he can’t take me out, not as long as we stay firm. That’s why I need you.”

  Miranda stroked his hand, willing him to calm down. “We’ve got it under control, Daddy. You have good people in command at the stadium.”

  Her father gripped her hand in a surprisingly strong grasp. He tugged her close until she was leaning over him face-to-face. “I never expected this. You’re not prepared. That’s my fault. But all you need to do is keep things going and block Wainright. If you could hang on until the All-Star break, I’ll be back and everything will be okay. I’m sure I’ll be back long before then, able to take care of this little upstart.”

  “He’s not a little upstart, Daddy. He’s from the league and we have to work with him. He’s not trying to take over.”

  Her father growled and pushed her away. “He’s gotten to you already, didn’t he? That little bastard. You watch out for him. He’s a snake in the grass and he’ll try to steal everything from you. This team is your birthright, your inheritance. If he takes ownership, you’ve got nothing. All those nice clothes you like, that hot little sports car you drive? He’ll have it all and you’ll have nothing. Make sure you watch out for him. He’s not your friend.”

  She tugged her hand out of his grasp, and straightened up. “I know that, Daddy. I’ll be careful.”

  He fell back against the pillows, his eyes closing with weariness. “See that you do. I’m trusting you with everything. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Miranda resisted the urge to scream. She’d been installed as president for the past year after working her way up the ranks in all aspects of the team. The only area her father refused to relinquish the reins was in player development and management. He preferred to remain in the forefront in that aspect, wheeling and dealing his way to a championship, yet always falling short. Now, when they needed players and solid direction the most, he was out of commission and leaving her in charge. No matter what she did, even if she deferred completely to Cole, she would never be right.

  “Seamus, this can certainly wait until tomorrow.” Gwen gently rebuked him.

  Seamus turned his stare on his wife, suddenly appearing weak. “You’re going to lecture me while I lay on my death bed?”

  Gwen rushed to fluff his pillows and reassure him. Miranda took a few steps away, mind whirling.

  Her father fixed a stern glare on her. “It’s your chance to show me that you have what it takes. You’ve been asking for more responsibility. Here it is. Don’t screw it up.”

  The doctor walked in at moment and shooed her out of the room. Her mother remained sitting next with Seamus, soothing him. Miranda slipped out of the room and weaved her way through ICU and out to the family waiting room. Lucas stood at her approach.

  She sank down into a seat, legs no longer able to hold her, blood pounding in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. The season was only a couple of weeks away and they had so much to do, players to sign, press releases about Seamus’s illness, not to mention the challenge they faced from the league. Her brain hurt just thinking about everything. Lucas stood next to her, patiently waiting.

  Miranda stood up, squared her shoulders and looked Lucas squarely in the eye. “My father will be here for a while. I’m in charge in his absence.”

  “I can help out more; take some of the burden off of you.” Lucas grasped her elbow, pulling her close.

  Her mind flashed back to her father’s warning not to trust Lucas. Barely out of the first surgery and Lucas was already homing in on the team. She had to be careful, not be swayed by his seemingly helpful ways.

  “I’ve got this, Lucas. You can report to the commissioner than we’ll be fine.”

  Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “I can’t lie to him. You’re stuck with me. You can’t do anything without my approval.”

  She pulled her arm out of his grasp with as much dignity as she could muster. Straightening her jacket, she tossed her hair and met his gaze firmly. “We’ll see about that. It’s still my team.” She glided away like the beauty queen she once was.

  She had work to do.

  Chapter Five

  A couple of days after Seamus’s heart attack, Lucas settled back in the chair and laid his head on the headrest, closing his eyes. Only, when he closed them, he saw his father and the way things were supposed to be, before Lucas had screwed it all up. This was supposed to be Lucas’s office, when he had finished college and joined the family business as his father’s right-hand man, ready to step in to his role as heir-apparent. His younger brother and sister had no interest in baseball or business, so the weight of the family heritage fell to him to carry.

  And he dropped it, shattering his family and his father’s dreams.

  Lucas studied the reports submitted by the departments, outlining their strategy for the upcoming season and their projections for the year. He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times to wipe the grit out of his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well since being told about the job. Usually the excitement of a new challenge fired him up and he’d dig right in. The shock of being back in the stadium offices where he had spent so much time, the sudden heart attack of Callahan, and the resulting uproar in the offices threw him off his game. For the first time in his career as a turnaround consultant, guilt prodded him, reminding him he was playing with people’s lives, people he knew, and the timing of this job couldn’t be worse.

  A knock at the door tore into his memories. He straightened up and put on his game face. Cole Hammonds poked his head around the door, a carefully blank look on his face.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Lucas remained seated and gestured to the seat in front of him. “Yes, Hammonds. Thanks for joining me.”

  Cole stepped into the office and Jason Friar followed him. “Since you wanted to discuss players, I thought I’d bring the head of player development.”

  Lucas nodded once and gestured to the chairs. “Perfect. We can kill two birds with one stone.”

  The men sat across from him and Lucas took a moment to assess the playing field. Something else his father, and Lucas’s own experience, had taught him. He’d use the silence to see how his opponents acted. Once they did, and they always did, he could determine if they were true opponents or could be switched to his side. Then the real work began.

  Predictably, Cole was the first to speak, loyalty to the old guard deeply ingrained in him. Jason Friar, on the other hand, kept his own coun
cil, studying the situation, assessing the options. But Jason was new, too new to be a real ally. Cole was the key, the linchpin.

  “So, how do you want to play this? Pander to my ego? Or appeal to my survival instinct?” Cole asked.

  After a long moment, Lucas pulled out a folder and tossed it across the table. “Is this your proposal?”

  Cole leaned forward and opened the folder, scanning the beginning of it. His jaw tightened and he glared at Lucas. “How did you get this?”

  “Irrelevant. I’ve read it. A few points are not quite accurate but overall, a good plan. I assume you’ve received no encouragement from upper management?”

  Cole closed the folder and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m not going to help you undermine Mr. Callahan, especially now.”

  Lucas folded his hands in front of him and studied the other man. “I’m not trying to undermine him. I’m trying to save his team before it sinks beneath him. We can work this two ways. One, you help me. Two, you don’t and you’re out of a job in a few months. Which will it be?”

  Cole’s face reddened, anger a slow boil beneath the surface. “I don’t appreciate threats.”

  Lucas spread his hands out in a gesture of supplication. “I don’t make threats, only promises.”

  Jason leaned forward, insinuating himself into the conversation. “So, what are you looking for, Mr. Wainright? And don’t tell me that you just want to help us. What do you really want?”

  Lucas studied him for a long moment. “I underestimated you, Mr. Friar.” He propped his elbows on the table. “Fine, let’s lay it all out on the line. Yes, my father used to own the Knights and you’re damn right I’m pissed that Callahan took advantage of my father when he was sick. But that’s in the past. I work for major league baseball, from whom you took a sizable loan. I help teams regain solid financial status or maintain it. Your team has major issues that won’t be solved overnight or with half measures.” He glanced at the other man, changing his tactic suddenly. “Friar, you’ve played on a lot of teams and against plenty of others. What are your thoughts on these ideas, these methods of the shift and pitching changes? Can teams win with them?”

  Jason glanced at Cole then back to Lucas. “I hated playing against the shift. I swear, it dropped my batting average by several points every year. However, we never employ it. We have a short right field porch, meaning fly balls turn into home runs easily. And most of our pitchers are fly ball pitchers. As a hitter, I love that. But now, we can’t win this way.”

  “Exactly my point. And Hammonds, I think you knew this years ago, which is why you wrote this proposal. And before you ask where I got it, it was part of the documents given to me when I started. So, what can we do?”

  “Not a damn thing,” Cole stated flatly. “Mr. Callahan vetoed it so we never pursued it.”

  “That’s negative thinking and that won’t help our situation.” Lucas bit off the words, trying not to condemn the man for being so shortsighted.

  Jason leaned forward. “What can we honestly do? Spring training has started, only a few weeks away from Opening Day. Our roster is set and we’re playing games. If we change anything, we don’t have time to make it work before we go into the season. We’re just too late.”

  “Not to mention the fact that Mr. Callahan will never go for it.” Cole snorted.

  “He’s not in charge anymore, is he?” Lucas let the words fall into the silence. He paused a moment to let the words sink in, then he spoke in a more reasonable tone. “Wouldn’t you rather he come back to his team instead of finding out it’s been taken away to pay his debts?”

  “And you really care?” Cole stated sarcastically.

  “I get that you don’t trust me, so we can sit here and go round and round, playing the blame game, or we can trust each other and get this done.” After throwing down the challenge, Lucas leaned back and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, still trying to maintain an open and welcoming posture, while remaining implacable and strong.

  “I don’t trust you.” Cole’s voice was weakening, the reality of the situation sinking in.

  “That’s obvious.” Lucas remained calm and waited.

  Finally, Cole stood. “If you can get Miranda on board, then I’ll be on board.”

  Jason stood also and nodded to Lucas. “Let me know what I can do.”

  Lucas joined them, shaking each man’s hand. “We can do this together.”

  After they left, he sat back down and swiveled his chair to look at the stadium and the most recent team picture. He wished he could believe his own words, but it would take a miracle to save the Knights.

  *

  Lucas continued his review of documents. Miranda had done a great job on the day-to-day operations side of the business. And it was clearly Miranda because, once she took over as president, process changes and efficiency adjustments had streamlined operations, saving the team money and making them a lean group. Too bad her father didn’t include her on the player side of the shop.

  His cell phone rang, jarring him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Lucas, honey. I had to hear on the news that you were in Savannah again. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  “Sorry, Mom. I only just got here and things have been a bit crazy.”

  “I heard about Seamus. How are Gwen and Miranda? I was going to call them, but I’m sure they’re busy at the hospital. I remember those days when your father was sick.”

  His gut twisted at her words, at the sadness that was still present. “They’re hanging in there. Enough about the Callahans. What’s going on with you?”

  “Lucas.” His mother chided him, making him feel like a child again. “You know how hard this time must be for them. Tell me you’re not making things difficult for Miranda.”

  He scowled at the phone. “Of course not, Mom.”

  “Really? Miranda was such a lovely young woman, always looking to make her father happy. This can’t be easy for her.” She paused and when she spoke again, her words her hesitant. “Is the situation very bad for the Knights?”

  “It’s not good, Mom. The business has changed and Seamus never changed with the times. He still thinks the Knights are a big market team. He’s delusional and he’s put them at risk.”

  “But you’re there now. You’ll make it right.”

  Her confident tone twisted the knife deeper in his gut. “Is there a point to this call?”

  “Yes.” Her tone turned business-like. “I wanted you to extend my sympathies. I felt awkward calling Gwen. It’s been years since we’ve talked. And I’m sure she’s busy right now.”

  “Of course, Mom. Thanks for calling.”

  “Wait! Are you coming down to Florida for spring training? I’d love to see you. It’s been so long.”

  And guilt reared its ugly head. His mother was right, as usual. He hadn’t been there since Christmas, and only for a short visit.

  He sighed again. “I’m not sure we’ll be coming down, but I’ll call you if we do.”

  “You’re not that far, Lucas. I miss you. And if Miranda comes down, bring her, too. I’d love to see her again. Bye, honey!”

  He clicked the phone off. Leave it to his mom to add complications to his life.

  Chapter Six

  Miranda dragged herself down the darkened hallway to her office, only the lowered lights and her memory to guide her steps. She stumbled on her heels, fatigue clouding her mind, and banged against a cubicle wall. She paused there, regaining her balance and her focus. Maybe her mother was right. After splitting her time between the hospital and the office for the past several days, culminating in today’s stressful quadruple bypass surgery, she was worn out, emotionally, mentally, and physically, too tired to be at the office. Yet here she was, checking in on all the things she’d been ignoring.

  And checking on Lucas Wainright.

  She had kept in touch with her assistant, Maggie, from the hospital, and reports we
re unnerving. Lucas had been very busy in the few days he had been there, meeting with her various departments, analyzing reports, asking lots of questions. She had to figure out what his plan was and make sure he wasn’t going to hurt the team.

  Thinking of those reports and then how he had been at the hospital created a disconnect in her mind. On the one hand, he was clearly in Savannah to force change with the Knights. But he had been so supportive and helpful during those critical hours following Seamus’s initial heart attack. His support and strength helped her function in those few hours and she couldn’t reconcile that image with a man who wanted to take the team from her.

  She straightened and stretched her lower back. Hospital chairs sucked for posture. She walked down the hallway and saw a light under the office door she had assigned to Lucas. Maybe he had left the light on. She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity, and the desire to avoid mountains of work, had her feet moving towards the closed door, dread dogging her steps, unavoidable like a natural disaster.

  She opened the door and Lucas looked up from his laptop monitor. She didn’t want to notice how tired he looked, the way his sandy blond hair was messed up, as if fingers had run through it multiple times. His suit jacket was tossed over the back of a chair and he’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on the shirt.

  He studied her coolly, almost as if he had expected her, his gaze steady and expectant.

  She flushed and took a step back, fumbling for the door handle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  He stood, his Southern manners not completely gone. “You didn’t.” A slight pause. “How’s your father?”

  Tears dampened her eyes and she blinked them away. “He’s hanging on. The bypass went well. He’s resting comfortably in ICU.” She hesitated. “Do you care?”

  He frowned and walked around the desk, coming over to her. “I never wanted anything to happen to him.”