Was that source Blaine Marsh?
The time off during the bye week allowed me to dive into a few searches. Each endeavor was honestly a black hole; each discovery took me on another journey. I confirmed that the Hubbards owned twenty-four restaurants in 1977–78. While during that time a Big-Mac meal with two burgers, fries, and a shake cost only around three dollars, a well-operated restaurant generated roughly $750,000 to $900,000 annually. After operating costs of rent or building maintenance, labor, products, and management, a franchise would do well to clear one hundred thousand a year.
One hundred thousand times twenty-four over the years…
If the Hubbards were frugal with their savings, it could be possible that they saved the extra ten million. Don’t get me started on the cost of beef during 1977. I definitely went down too many rabbit holes.
My opinion of Clark’s wild story varied day by day. I could wake up thinking that Vee’s family was gunning for her or lay my head down at night thinking it was all too far-fetched to be true.
When Vee told me that Bre was out of jail, it took all my self-control to not try to find Bre and talk to her. Approaching the woman Clark claims was framed felt like a line I shouldn’t cross. Before telling Vee Clark’s story, I wanted to be sure there was at least a kernel of truth. The woman at my side had too much happening—too many things burning—to add another log to the fire.
“Hmm.” She lifted her eyebrows.
My opinion about Clark—yeah, right.
“Listen, I’m not suggesting we double date,” I said. “I also think it’s odd he was out to dinner with Daphne and your cousin.”
“So your opinion hasn’t changed?”
I laid my head against the seat and watched the tarmac through the small window at Vee’s side as the plane backed away from the jet bridge. “Call me soft.”
Vee squeezed my bicep with a stunning smile. “You are not soft.”
“I was pissed at first, the night Clark broke the vase in the hallway.” I shrugged. “Later, I thought about what you told me. How he asked you to move in with him. Then he finds me at your place only a short time since we were back together... I can see why he was upset.”
Vee gripped the arms of her seat as the engines grew louder. The attendant sat strapped into her seat at the front of the plane, and we’d just heard the announcement about preparing for departure.
“Thanks for agreeing to this day trip,” I said before kissing her cheek.
“It’ll be fun. I just can’t wear a Vikings scarf or anything.”
“Zane wasn’t wearing a Coopers jersey when he came to Lexington. With everything that was happening, I forgot that he and I tried to spend our bye weeks watching one another. I’m glad he texted about the tickets.”
“Aunt Rachel said Uncle Darin could get us suite tickets.”
“You don’t need him for that. Vee, you own the Coopers. I’m sure you could have pulled a string or two.” My cheeks rose. “I’m glad you didn’t. Let’s think about today like how you said your dad did at Kentucky. We’re going to simply fade into the crowd, normal fans.”
“Do you think that’s possible? I get recognized at Crystal Light Stadium.”
I nodded. “That’s because people look for you there. I’ve faded into the crowd many times. Zane gets me tickets in the stadium so I can have the Viking fan experience. I do the same for him wherever I’m playing. Occasionally, someone will look at me with an ‘I think I know you’ expression. I simply smile. In general, recognition is based on more than appearance. There are context clues: location, outfit, etc. No one will expect to see Maeve Hubbard, the owner of the Coopers, shivering in Soldier Field.”
When the attendant came back for another drink order, Vee ordered a hot chocolate and I ordered a coffee. We were preparing for the upcoming cooler conditions.
The seats Zane got us were fifteen rows up from the fifty-yard line and thankfully in the sunshine of the east side of the stadium. While we arrived over an hour early, Vee seemed excited to watch the pregame preparations on the field.
Her cheeks were a beautiful pink shade as a stocking cap covered the top of her head and ears. There was faux fur around the hood of her coat, lying on her back and shoulders, and her hands were covered by white mittens. “See over there,” she said, jutting her chin. “Those technicians are identifiable by the color of hat they’re wearing. The yellow hats work the coach-to-coach communication. The orange hats are in charge of?—”
“Coach to player.”
Vee smiled. “I’m sorry. I know you know this stuff. It’s fun to watch it without being responsible for all of it.”
“Damn, you’re something else.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been doing football stadium operations for years. It’s exciting to see it all come together. Making a complicated operation appear effortless is the goal. Most of the fans and even players have no idea of all that goes on to make the broadcast and game look like it just happens.”
“Do you like watching your operations team from the sidelines as much as you like watching the game?”
Her smile grew. “I do. I like watching both. I never realized how detached I was up in the suite.” She shrugged. “Before this year, I left the football ops to my directors. I met with them before and after games. I’m lucky they are all so great at their jobs. But being down there, in the middle of all of it. I can’t explain it…”
