Chapter Twelve
Sleepless nights werebecoming something of a habit for Miranda and she was damned sick of it. First her father, then the team, and now Lucas. She still didn’t understand what had happened the previous evening. It had started out promising, with a scorching hot kiss in the garage, and ended with a distance between them no bridge could span. Somehow she had to figure out what had happened.
Her phone beeped. “Miranda? It’s your father.”
Damn. Her mother had promised to keep him occupied. She was able to get rid of the phone in his hospital room and control the television and radio chatter, but now he was home and apparently he had slipped the leash. That didn’t last long.
She sighed. “Put him through.”
She steeled herself, sitting straight in the chair and donning her mental armor. She could do this. She’d stood up to the whole management staff and, while she still had opponents, she was winning them over. Now to see if her plans had any impact.
“Miranda? What the hell have you done to my team?” Her father barked through the phone, not quite a Doberman but not the tame lap dog he had been immediately post-surgery.
In a way, she was thrilled he was feeling better and not as drugged. Was it too much to hope he would be down a little longer, until she had a firm grasp on the reins? Did that make her a bad daughter? Probably.
She took a deep breath. “How are you feeling, Dad?”
“I’d be doing much better if you weren’t destroying my legacy. Trading for Prosser after I specifically vetoed that trade?”
“You didn’t veto it. We never finished the discussion and I made the call.” She swiveled her chair and looked over the empty ball field. “We made a deal, Dad. I run the team and you focus on getting better. I’m making really tough calls here to help our team escape the financial morass we’re in. Besides, you don’t need the stress with the team right now. Talking about business is getting you all worked up. Please, just focus on getting better. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Miranda! Are you sure? Because it seems like the team is being run into the ground.”
“Trust me to run it, Dad. You’ve trained me well and hired the right staff. We have this under control. I love you and want you to get well, so I’m going to hang up now before you get worked up. Talk soon.” She gently lowered the handset onto the receiver, not surprised to see her hand quivering.
Moments later, her intercom buzzed again. “Miranda? Cole, on line two.”
She took a deep, cleansing breath and picked up the phone. “Cole, how are things in Florida?”
“Fantastic.”
Even over the distance, she could distinctly hear the sarcasm. “I take it the coaching staff is reluctant to embrace change?”
“Something like that. To be specific, baseball is a game of heart and intuition, not numbers and statistics. Their words, not mine.”
“Really? So why do we have statistics on the back of every baseball card? Why do we determine the best players by batting average, earned runs?”
He sighed. “It’s not the numbers, but the change in strategy. No one likes small ball because it’s not splashy enough. They think if they hold out long enough, Mr. Callahan will come back and change it all back to the way it was.”
Her fist clenched around the phone. Damn that old boy’s network and the old way of doing things. If she was a man, and a former baseball player, she wouldn’t have to deal with this type of resistance. True, most people hated change but when they thought someone was temporary, they were mule-like in their stubbornness.
She consciously unclenched her fist and evened out her breathing. “What do you think, Cole? About the plan?”
A slight pause, then he spoke. “It was my idea, basically. I think they have a point that Mr. Callahan will come back and change everything, and they might be fired.”
Lucas chose that moment to peer in her doorway. She waved him in to a chair. He settled and waited for the conversation to end. “So their resistance isn’t anything other than lack of clarity around leadership? That’s good. We can work with that.”
“Not exactly.” The hesitation in his voice made her pause. “They’re not one hundred percent on board with the strategy, either.”
“Do you think it would help if I came down? Explain our direction?”
“The numbers guys aren’t having much luck on that front.”
Lucas wiggled his fingers to get her attention. “They’re not baseball guys. The coaches don’t trust numbers guys. Someone needs to speak on their level, talk baseball.”
Miranda nodded. “Lucas and I will be down there within the next few days. I had planned on coming down anyway, like my father always did, to meet the team. I think now is a good time. I’ll let you know our flight information.”
She ended the call and sighed. “Just once I’d like someone to stop fighting me.”