“But the Falcons have always played in Holly Springs.” Heather struggled to raise her voice, yet the more upset she got, the more her brain muted her vocal cords. She turned to her expressionless father and put a hand on his arm, feeling the thin parchment of his skin. He seemed to have aged overnight.
“Your grandfather founded the team here in the ’30s. We have an obligation to this town. Its people.” Sure, the growing trend was Major League owners buying their Minor League affiliates, but she’d never imagined it happening to the Falcons. Her family couldn’t give up a tradition they’d started long ago.
“Joe, Sam, Tomas,” her father said, his voice filled with the gravel that came from shouting for most of his life. “I’d like a moment with my daughter. Alone.”
The men shot her disapproving looks and left. Frank remained, sitting quietly after her father nodded for him to stay.
The creases in her father’s broad face deepened when he turned toward her, his firm jaw showing the slightest droop. When had her dad ever looked his age? He gathered her hands in his, his familiar calluses chaffing her palm. “It’s time to be a grown-up, Heather, and that means making tough decisions.”
Disappointment stung her, but she wasn’t surprised. Criticism was his way of caring, right? She gritted her teeth and ignored the old hurts.
“I’m listening, Dad. And I can’t believe that we talk every day and something so important to you—and me—never came up. Please do bring me up to speed.”
Her father sighed. “Since the fabric mills shut down and the brand new Double-A stadium went up on the other side of Raleigh, we’ve lost money for five years straight. I’ve tried to keep it from you. Didn’t want you to worry, but the truth is, I can’t afford to keep going.”
“You should have told me. I would have come home to help instead of just visit.” She squeezed his hands, wishing he’d trusted her with the truth. But open communication had never been their strong suit. Living with an addict meant keeping secrets. It was a pattern they’d never broken free of, even after her mother had left and she and her dad had attended Al-Anon meetings together. Although the group was a way for friends and families of substance abusers to share their experiences, Heather and her dad had never talked about it outside of meetings.
Her father shook his head. “You’re doing just fine out there in California, and there’s nothing you could help with here. Pete left because I had to offer him a lower wage. Since I can’t pay the kind of salary that’d buy us a decent manager, we can’t turn the team’s record around and attract the fans. I’d do it myself, but with my health where it’s at, that’s not an option anymore.”
But she could help. Sure she loved coaching the Red Tails, but this team belonged to her ancestors, and Holly Springs was where her home and heart were. If the team left, there would be little to keep the town going.
“But you don’t have to do it yourself. I’m here. I’ll take a leave of absence from the university, manage the team for free and get the Falcons back on track while you recover.” Although she used her most confident “coach” voice, inside she shook at the idea. Could she pull it off? It’d been her dream, but she’d always imagined gradually easing into the position with time to learn from Pete. Now she’d have to figure things out on the fly. Sink or swim time.
Her father pressed his lips together and shook his head. “You don’t have the know-how for a job like this, Heather.”
“I grew up with the Falcons and know as much about them as anyone here. Even you.” She searched his eyes but saw only flat refusal reflected back at her. Her chin rose as she tried again. “I’ve worked my way up with the Red Tails and help out with their roster and recruitment. I can do this. Give me a chance.”
He swatted the air with his hand. “Out of the question. Besides, who ever heard of a woman managing a men’s Minor League baseball team?”
Frank put his elbow on the table and leaned in. “Actually, the MBA’s been trying to rectify that, Dave. Someone like Heather could help with that.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “We need to show that we’re equal opportunity employers.”
Heather’s heart warmed. Frank believed in her.
“But I can’t afford to lose more money, or spend time teaching her the ropes,” exclaimed her father. He pushed back his gray hair, his face turning red. “She’ll never learn fast enough.”
His cutting words threatened to shove Heather right back to her childhood and all the times she hadn’t been good enough. Not for him.
But he’d also said it was time to grow up, and she’d done that. He just didn’t see it. With this chance, she’d prove that she was capable and deserved his respect.
“I don’t need your help,” she said, forcing the dial up on her voice. “I watched a game the other day, and already have some changes in mind to improve the team.”
Her father snorted, but Frank steepled his fingers and regarded her carefully. “What would you do?”
She went through the mental notes she’d taken while watching yesterday’s game. “First, George Hopson’s a good hitter, but he’s slow. He clogs up the bases and could have scored a run from third if he’d hustled on that long fly ball. Defensively, your center fielder, Rob Vader, is plenty fast, but he’s wall-shy. He pulled up short yesterday and missed a catchable ball that hit the bottom of the wall. Two runs scored because of that. We need more effort on those kinds of plays. Finally, that new pitcher, the tall, blond-haired one...”
“Garrett Wolf?” her father asked, looking slightly stunned at her rush of words. It felt good finally to have the floor. To share her opinion. To be listened to. Taken seriously.
She nodded, trying to appear calm despite the leap in her pulse at Garrett’s name. “He’s a risk, and I’m not sure if he’s worth keeping. I didn’t see him pitch that game, but heard he’s got control issues. He’ll need help with that if he’s going to be an asset instead of a liability.”
She would definitely put the Falcons pitching coach on that task, not trusting herself to give the dangerously attractive new player the pointers he needed. That is, if she even got the opportunity to save the team.
Her father was already shaking his head. “Impossible.”
“Dave. This isn’t my call, but if you’d like my advice, I’ll give it,” Frank weighed in.
At her father’s stiff nod, the man continued. “The season’s already begun, and the team can’t be relocated at this point anyway. This sale can be made in September if you still want it. In the meantime, give Heather a chance. I’ve watched this kid of yours for years. She’s levelheaded, hardworking and no quitter. She’ll motivate these guys. Besides, as the first Minor League team with a female manager, you’ll draw attention and may sell more tickets. Female baseball fans are a growing demographic. We need to get with the times.”
He winked at Heather, and she glowed at the praise and support. Frank had been a good father to her friend, and now he was her champion when she’d least expected it.
Her father rubbed the white bristles on his chin, his eyes half-closed. “This is a bad idea,” he grumbled after a long, tense moment.
“But you’ll try it,” Frank urged him.
“Won’t change anything,” her father sighed, giving her a pitying look beneath the unclipped hedge of his brows. “Just putting off the inevitable.”
Heather ducked behind her emotional shield before her father’s lack of faith wounded her further. She had four months to turn the team around and prove him wrong. And she had a few ideas of her own about how to put the Falcons back in the limelight besides wins and the novelty of her gender. One plan had taken hold when she’d fielded a request from a local group home for troubled foster kids who couldn’t live with families. They were eager for tickets