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Ethan was in heaven about the Fliers becoming a Triple-A team. Now their roster would include players who had already been in the majors, and many who might be called up at any time. My divorce from Chad, and his subsequent retirement from pro ball, had ended trips to big-league clubhouses for Ethan. Instead, any chance he got he would hang out at the Fliers’ field.

Chad was an absentee father who had his own demons to deal with. He didn’t see Ethan as often as I thought he should, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Our marriage was over—and had ended in a spectacularly ugly fashion—but I’d never wanted that to damage his relationship with Ethan or Brooke.

Not long after our divorce, Chad had remarried, and his second wife hadn’t wanted the burden of helping raise two teenagers. Chad had started spending less and less time with both the kids. Brooke had bailed first. She had loathed her new stepmother and found any excuse to avoid seeing her. Ethan had stopped visiting shortly after Brooke, and now it had been over a year since the last time he’d seen his father.

Chad’s second marriage was over now, too, but he still couldn’t find more time for the kids. I resented that he had flaked on them, but both my dad and Chad’s father were in Red Rock, and they did their best to make up for his absence.

“Has anyone rented out the guest room yet?”

I glanced over at Ethan, surprised. He hadn’t been thrilled when I told him I was planning on renting out our spare room for the season, but I wanted the cash infusion as a cushion against the possibility I didn’t land this contract. I was hoping Brooke might have a friend home from university, or maybe a young Fliers player would need a place to stay.

“Not yet. Why?”

“I thought maybe while we were here, we could talk to Wally to see if any players need a place to rent.”

Wally Glover was the Fliers manager, and an old friend of my dad’s. I had planned to ask him myself if any players needed a room.

“That’s a great idea, Ethan. He might be busy today, though. If he is, we can ask him another time.” Wally treated Ethan like family, but he would be getting the team and the field ready for the upcoming season today.

Ethan slowed to make the turn into the parking lot, taking the corner at a crawl. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Focus. This was the most important day of my professional life. I had received a healthy settlement when I divorced Chad, and after the humiliation he caused me, I took every cent. For the kids, I would spend anything. That money was paying for Brooke’s premed tuition at the University of Calgary, and Ethan playing competitive baseball was one never-ending expense after another. All of that came from Chad’s money.

I’d also purchased an old Victorian house that we all loved. I’d fixed it up on my own, though, with a little help from Brooke, Ethan, and my dad. The last thing I’d done was use a small part of the settlement for seed money to get my baking business off the ground. Maybe it was my own stubborn pride, but I hated feeling like I owed Chad anything.

Which was why I was fighting to make this business a success on my own. This opportunity with the Fliers would fast-track my bakery’s growth, getting my name in front of the community. It was my chance to prove Chad wrong when he said I would never be more than the ex-wife of a star.

I surveyed a parking lot full of cars, a range of everything from old beaters on their last legs, belonging to some of the minor league players, to sedans and SUVs being driven by the team’s front office, all the way to a couple of pricey-looking sports cars. Those had to belong to either ex–big-league players who were back down in Triple-A rehabbing injuries, or minor league prospects who had landed substantial signing bonuses.

The disparity in minor league baseball between players was always interesting to see. Somehow, no matter what, the players almost always found a way to pull together and be a team. I’d seen it happen multiple times as I followed Chad as he rose through the minors to get to the majors. There was nothing like it.

We parked at the loading dock and began unloading the truck. Rack after rack of sugary confections, all designed to make the best impression and wow the decision-makers. By the time we were finished, the carts were heavy with macarons, cupcakes, cookies, brownies, and other handheld bites that could be easily consumed from a ballpark concession stand. In a separate portable cooler, I had the types of desserts I would provide to catering events: mini cheesecakes, tarts, layered squares, and so much more. The crowning glory was a sculpted cake of a baseball, bat, and glove.

All the selections had some connection to the Fliers, either through the team’s colours or logo. If this wouldn’t impress the ownership group, nothing would. Excitement bubbled as I obsessively double-checked everything. In the end, it was perfect. I had this contract in the bag. I could feel it.

“Who’s going to be here, half of Red Rock?” Ethan joked as he pushed his cart up the ramp to the delivery entrance.

“I wanted to make sure I had enough of everything. The Food and Beverage director told me to come in and set up on the main concourse where the concessions usually are. She said there would be tables up there for us. The elevator is down the hall.”

I pointed Ethan in the right direction. Although Ethan hung out here often, he spent his time on the field and in the clubhouse, not in the back, where food prep took place.

We made our way to the main concourse where the Food and Beverage team was waiting. They had already set up tables for us and a few other vendors, including a local pizzeria and a well-known sandwich shop from Red Rock.

“Hi, Melanie. You didn’t tell me you were going to be here today.” Melanie Neilson ran the Earl of Sandwich and served gourmet sandwiches on homemade breads. I’d also gone to high school with her, and we had renewed our friendship when I moved back home after the divorce.

Melanie grinned. “Hey, Jane. It was a surprise to me too. The club called me a couple of days ago and asked if I could be ready for the event today. What do you think?”

I looked over the table piled high with thick sandwiches. Each platter had a card providing a description of the sandwich along with a list of potential allergens. Everything about her display was inviting.

“It looks perfect.”

I waved at Gina Amato, another high school friend who ran Gino’s, our local Italian restaurant. She waved back but clearly had her hands full with setting up her own table.

I surveyed the space the club had assigned me, visualizing how to display my products in the most appealing way. I was pleased there were no other dessert vendors in attendance. Today was supposed to be the final tasting event before the Fliers selected their vendors for the season. Maybe this signalled I was getting the contract. I would find out soon enough.

I clenched my fists when I noticed they were shaking as I unboxed cupcakes, struggling to get my nerves under control. My table had to be set up to display everything to the best advantage. They had enjoyed the first small samples I provided, or I wouldn’t be here. Today I planned to seal the deal.

Ethan and I worked in unison, having done events together many times before. We had just tucked away the last of the packaging when people began filing into the concourse, filling the area with chatter. I knew most of the invited guests, having grown up here. The local ownership group greeted us, and my heartbeat notched higher when they introduced me to the representatives from the Vancouver club. No one had told me that leadership from the Vanquish were coming out.

I had to have faith. I knew my food was top quality. They would not be disappointed.