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The back door opened again and Sarah came in, ready to work the front for the day. With school over, I had been able to give her almost full-time hours so that Emily and I could keep up with making enough items for both the Airfield and all the new customers we had because of the ballpark. My little business had found its legs.

The next goal was to turn our current popularity into repeat business. Minor league baseball ended in mid-September. October to April was a long stretch. And that was if I landed the three-year contract. Our products were wildly popular at the park, but until I had a signed contract in hand, I knew better than to count on anything. We needed a plan. If Emily and I brainstormed now, maybe we could have a solid one in place.

“What do you think we should do once baseball season is over? There aren’t a lot of weddings in winter, either; I’m worried that sales are going to tank back to our old levels once September rolls around.”

Emily looked up from the icing transfers she was piping. “I’ve been thinking about it. Thanksgiving was a bust; no one wanted cakes. We could do pies, but they’re not what we’re known for. I was thinking that the schools in town are always looking for fundraising partners. Maybe we partner with some of them, give them wholesale pricing on cookies? We could do team logos, fall themes, whatever kind they want. I know we don’t make big margins on them, but it’s good for the community. It’ll remind people we’re still here, even after the season ends.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. I’d sold more bloody chocolates and raffle tickets to fundraise for Brooke and Ethan than anyone should have to. “Great idea. I’m still connected with the schools Ethan and Brooke attended—we can start there.”

I weighed and measured ingredients for our signature chocolate cake batter for the next three hundred cupcakes, still thinking about the upcoming offseason. Carter would be gone when the season ended, if he wasn’t called up before then. Brooke would be back at school. I’d have Ethan for one more year, but after that, he’d be gone too. Making sure my bakery was a success would give me something of my own to focus on.

“Christmas we should make cookies the priority too. Lots of gingerbread. That and some corporate catering will keep us afloat until the new year. Cupcakes and cookies for Valentine’s Day and Easter, and then we’ll be back at the ballpark,” I said. I had to stay positive. We would get the contract.

“Sounds like a plan. I know you were talking to Ethan about hiring another student. Getting someone just for the busy season is a good idea. That way, if business does fall off a lot, you don’t have to lay anyone off,” Emily said.

I knew Emily had been laid off a few times before I hired her. She would always consider how a slowdown in business might affect someone.

“That’s what I was thinking too. If we can find someone with the talent to help decorate, that would be fantastic. I’d settle for someone who can follow a recipe and bake cupcakes without burning them,” I said.

“I’ll talk to Sarah. She might know someone from the Foods program at the high school,” Emily offered.

“Perfect. Especially if it’s a student in grade eleven who still has one more year before graduation. That way, if we have some more hours around the holidays, they might be willing to come back and help out.”

“Consider it done.” Emily laid out more transfer paper across the stainless steel workspace. “Now, what player do we want to feature this weekend?”

Chapter 30

Carter

I parked my Jeep and slung my duffel over my shoulder, heading for the clubhouse. I’d woken alone in my own room this morning, having made sure I left Jane’s room well before Brooke was due home at 6:00 a.m. I’d woken when I heard Jane greeting Brooke; Jane was leaving for the bakery as her daughter arrived home from the hospital. I hadn’t had time to check in with Jane and make sure she was okay after last night.

It had been a big night, and it felt like there was a shift in our “friends with benefits” arrangement. I wanted more, but that wasn’t our deal. I also knew that it would be unfair of me to ask her to give up her life to follow me around pro ball.

Even if Vancouver called me up this season, I had a one-season contract. I had no way to know where I might wind up next year. It could lead to her living a nomad’s life, or us never seeing each other if she stayed here. She had lived that way once for Chad. Asking her to take that risk again was too much. All I could do was enjoy what time we had left and accept that sometimes we didn’t get what we wanted.

I’d been able to squeeze in a PT session before the practice Wally had scheduled to make up for yesterday’s cancelled game. Ari had worked the last of the soreness out of my elbow and had even managed to loosen my cranky hip flexor. There was nothing to do about my bruised ribs, but I actually felt physically good for the first time in weeks. Now to turn my hitting around.

A quick scan of the parking lot told me that even with my morning PT, I’d beaten almost everyone to the park. I didn’t mind. I liked the clubhouse when it was still quiet, before it was full of people, noise, and tension. I lived for the atmosphere, the camaraderie, but sometimes an empty ballpark was a meditative experience.

I dropped my gear in my locker, waved at Wally and the coaches who were having a meeting, and went to walk the field. I raised my face to the heat of the morning sun and inhaled the glorious scent of freshly cut grass. This was why I’d never wanted to be anything other than a ballplayer. I scuffed my shoes through the grass clippings, visualizing my next game. I wasn’t in my uniform, but I was still in my workout clothes from PT, so I began doing lunges and sprints across the diamond.

“Cook! I need to talk to you.”

I turned back toward the clubhouse.

Mick paced up and down the third base line, clearly worried about something and trying to figure out how to tell me. Which was strange, because he was never at a loss for words.

My stomach cramped—was this it? Normally Wally would be the one to cut me, but Mick and I had gotten close over the last couple of road trips. Maybe Wally thought I’d take the news better if it came from a friend.

I jogged across the field. “Hey, Mick. What’s up?”

“Vancouver called this morning. Witt’s being sent back down today. He’s been struggling, and they traded for a new infielder from Cleveland. They needed room on the roster.”

Ouch. I felt terrible for Witt. Being sent back to the minors always sucked. I’d seen what was happening in Vancouver, and Witt had been going through hell. He’d played every game since being called up but hadn’t managed a single hit, and had committed three errors. Poor kid was nervous and out of his depth, and if I had to guess, not one of the Vancouver players had stepped up to help him.

“That was quick.”

Mick scowled. “Too quick, if you ask me. It was a numbers game. Witt has all his options, and their other players don’t have any. They’ve already cut some star players, and cutting another one would signal that they’re in more trouble than they want to let on.”