“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?