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Jaclyn didn’t blink. “We’ll need to make it to the play-offs.”
“Play-offs?” Sanford looked from Jaclyn to Mortimer and back. “You’re one and nine. It’s last season all over again. How are you going to make it to the play-offs this time when you couldn’t last season?”
Jaclyn felt the muscles in her neck and back tightening. “The season’s still young, Sandy. We have seventy-three more chances.” Her heart beat loudly in her ears, almost drowning her words. Jaclyn switched her attention to Mortimer’s gaze. She took a moment to slow her breathing. “The Brooklyn Monarchs and the Empire Arena have been partners since both organizations started.”
“That’s fifty-five years.” Sanford’s nod lent emphasis to his observation.
“That’s right.” Jaclyn gripped the dainty teacup with sweaty fingers. “The Monarchs played their first game in the Empire the day the arena opened.”
“I remember that night as though it were yesterday.” Mortimer’s sigh seemed to transport him and his younger brother to their opening night.
Sanford’s laughter cracked the silence. He pointed a thin finger toward Jaclyn. “Your grandfather was so nervous. In the third quarter, I thought he’d put on a uniform and run some plays himself.”
Mortimer nodded. “He willed the Monarchs to win.”
Jaclyn leaned forward. “The Monarchs had a Cinderella run their first season. They didn’t win the championship, but they made it into the play-offs. I know we’ll have another Cinderella run this season. It’s still early. I’m confident we’ll make it to the play-offs. We have veteran players and a Hall of Fame coach.”
Mortimer scratched his chin. “Marc Guinn doesn’t have any coaching experience.”
Jaclyn waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “He has championship experience.” Adrenalin flowed through Jaclyn’s system, replacing her nerves with energy. She spoke with more confidence than she’d felt in months. “The Monarchs and the Empire are more than companies. They’re part of each other, and part of the community. I don’t want to see that partnership end. Do you?”
Jaclyn waited for the Empire owners’ response. She glanced between the two brothers. Was it her imagination or did they appear uncomfortable?
Mortimer exchanged a look with Sanford. His younger brother looked away. Mortimer met Jaclyn’s eyes. “No, we don’t want to see it end. But we don’t have a choice.”
Jaclyn shifted her gaze to Sanford. The minority arena owner wouldn’t meet her eyes. She looked again at Mortimer. “What do you mean?”
Mortimer sighed, staring into his teacup. “The day-to-day management has become too much for us. Our heirs have their own interests, which don’t include the Empire.”
Shards of ice piled into Jaclyn’s chest. “You’re selling the Empire.” She made the statement with numbed lips.
Sanford spoke plaintively. “We don’t want to, but we don’t have any other choice.”
Mortimer sighed. “And, frankly, our books look more attractive without the Monarchs. Other events bring in a greater profit.”
“We’re sorry, Jackie.” Sanford tucked his chin into his chest.
A weighted silence fell into the sitting room. Jaclyn’s gaze dropped to her cup of tea. The deep brown liquid shimmered in front of her, like her hopes. She took a drink to compose herself. Right now, she would have preferred coffee, really strong coffee. “How much are you asking for it?”
Mortimer’s asking price stole her breath.
Jaclyn sipped more Earl Grey tea. The uneaten lemon cream cookie was heavy in her left palm. “Will you still end our partnership when we make it to the play-offs?”
Mortimer hesitated. “Yes. The Monarchs have three losing seasons. For two of those seasons, we’ve been losing money.”
Jaclyn nodded at the older man’s response. She sipped more tea to remove the lump in her throat.
Sanford slumped farther into the sofa. “We’re sorry, Jackie. We don’t have a choice.”
Jaclyn lowered her teacup. “I understand your decision. But I have to believe that there’s always a choice.”
What were her choices? Finding another arena for the team or moving the Monarchs out of Brooklyn. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Were those really her only options?
“How did your meeting with the Empire Arena owners go?”
Althea’s question pulled Jaclyn’s attention away from her computer. She swallowed a spoonful of the chicken noodle soup she’d microwaved for her late lunch before answering. “Not well. How was your morning?”
Althea walked farther into her office. She fiddled with the silver decorative pin on her plum crewneck sweater. “I hate to pile more bad news on you, but you need to know the office gossip is at a fever pitch.”
