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“He’s lost his nerve.”
“He needs new players.”
“The franchise doesn’t have the money for quality trades.” DeMarcus sighed. “We have to build the team around another player.”
Oscar’s expression tightened. “I’ve been with Rick his whole career. He’s the leader of this team.”
DeMarcus pushed himself to his feet. “He was the leader of this team.”
Oscar lifted his head to maintain DeMarcus’s eye contact. “We can win with Rick on the court.”
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. The team needs a change.” DeMarcus took the copy of Oscar’s game plan from the assistant coach’s desk and tore it in half. “If you disagree with me in the future, talk to me. Don’t go behind my back.”
DeMarcus gripped the pieces of the plan in his fist and strode from Oscar’s office.
Jaclyn stood with her back to the kitchen door of the Morning Glory Chapel. She pinned her curls up and tucked them under a hairnet. The sound of the door opening preceded the brisk clicking of stiletto heels.
She glanced over her shoulder and froze. A grin stretched her lips. “Welcome back, Violet Ebanks O’Neal.”
Violet strutted across the room clothed in skinny navy jeans and a tight lavender cashmere sweater. Her makeup emphasized her violet eyes and high cheekbones. She drew her fingers through her salon-styled, auburn hair and grinned back. “I feel like my old self. You were right.”
“Of course I was. What about?”
Violet secured her hair under a net. “That I needed some time on my own to figure out what I was missing in my life. That’s what I’ve been doing these past two weeks.”
Jaclyn hefted a pot of mixed vegetables and waited while Violet lifted a pan of ground turkey. “Did you figure it out?”
Jaclyn nudged the kitchen door open with her right hip and held it while Violet walked through. The dining area buzzed with the energy and chatter of other volunteers preparing dinner for the food bank’s customers, the community’s homeless and working poor.
“I want to go back to work.” Violet’s voice preceded Jaclyn to the staging area where the volunteers and food bank employees arranged pots and pans of food as well as disposable plates and utensils.
Jaclyn set down her pot of vegetables and glanced over at Violet. “What do you want to do?”
Violet arranged her station next to Jaclyn’s. “I don’t know yet. Maybe coaching, either in a high school or a college. I have a business degree. I could do something with that. All I know is that I want to work with other adults.”
Jaclyn thought of Gerald and Albert, and the divided loyalties of her administrative staff. “That can be challenging.”
“Mish Jones.” The high-pitched voice came from the other side of the serving tables.
Jaclyn smiled in anticipation of seeing the little girl who’d called her name. She approached the table and looked down at the honey-blond head. “Tiffany. How are you, sweetheart?”
The three-year-old girl tugged on her mother’s hand and dropped her green gaze. “Fine.” The word emerged on a shallow breath. Tiffany was still a little shy, but over the past two weeks, she’d started talking more.
Jaclyn circled the long line of serving tables to join mother and daughter in the dining area. She switched her welcome to the blond woman who was never far from Tiffany’s side. “How are you, Connie?”
Constance’s green gaze, identical to her daughter’s, still wavered whenever someone addressed her directly. “Fine, thank you.” Her Midwestern accent identified her as a recent transplant to the Big Apple. How long had she been in Brooklyn?
Jaclyn kept the easy smile on her lips although the large bruises just beginning to fade from the young mother’s fragile features made her want to cry. “Are you still comfortable at the shelter?”
Jaclyn had a vested interest in Constance’s answer. The Monarchs’ staff, players and administration donated time, money and materials to the Morning Glory Chapel’s homeless shelter.
Constance’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. Tiff and I are very comfortable there.”
“Good.” Jaclyn turned to Tiffany, whose curious gaze shifted between Jaclyn and her mother. “I have something for you.”
She went to Violet, who was handling her station as well as Jaclyn’s for the moment. Her friend found the shopping bag waiting under her station. Jaclyn returned to present the bag to Tiffany. The little girl looked to her mother.
Constance stroked her daughter’s neat, blond locks. “Say thank you, honey.”
