I’d always assumed it would be me.
Dad went on, “I was thinking you would have fifty-one percent; Darin, Rachel, Grant, Phillip, and Leigh would divide thirty-nine percent.”
I narrowed my gaze. “That only equals ninety percent.”
“Vee, Daphne wants a stake in the team.”
My stomach dropped. “Daphne?”
“I haven’t met with the attorneys yet. Any changes in succession can wait until after this season.”
“Daphne,” I said again, “has never been the least bit interested in being a working member of the executive committee. Her biggest decision is what to wear on game day.” My volume rose. “Hell, Dad, she doesn’t know offense from defense.”
“This is premature,” Dad said, lifting his things from the table. “We’ll discuss it after the Coopers win the Super Bowl.”
“I would never push out family.” Daphne, on the other hand, wasn’t my family. She’d had over twenty years to rectify that and didn’t.
He smiled. “I know that, sweetheart.”
Walking back to my office, I felt the uncomfortable itch, one you couldn’t scratch, regarding our conversation. It had gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t fully understand. I’d never taken the time to consider why Grandpa Carroll hadn’t given Rachel an equal share of the Coopers. He’d given her equal financial compensation, but the team was left completely to my father, Reid Hubbard.
I remembered Dad saying he often wished he could walk into his office and find Grandpa behind the desk to ask his father questions.
Was my grandfather misogynistic?
Did he not split the team because he didn’t think his daughter was as good for the team as his son?
Was Dad having the same concerns because of my gender?
Those and more questions were swirling through my head as I made my way back to my office. I had the rest of today and tomorrow to catch up on a week’s work and prepare for next week before spending Wednesday and Thursday with Drew and the offense.
“We miss you around here,” Jen said as I entered her office.
“I miss you.”
“I saw you on the jumbotron on Sunday. It didn’t look like you were missing us.”
“Oh,” I said, “that reminds me. I need to speak to someone in broadcasting. I don’t want to be on the jumbotron. You aren’t the first person to mention that. My presence on the sidelines is no big deal.”
“Too late.” Jen brought me a physical copy of theLexington Herald. “Look at this article, right next to the one about Troy Dennison and the win pulled off by Griffin Graham.”
The title wasCOOPERS’ HEIRESS CALLING THE PLAYS.
“Shit. Shit.” I turned to Jen. “I’m serious. I do not want to be on the screen again. And for the record, I’m not calling plays. I’m trying to understand them.” I walked toward my office. “Can you also call for lunch? I don’t care what. I want to spend this afternoon locked in here, wading through emails and everything else I’ve missed.”
“Sure thing.” She shrugged. “I thought the article was kind of cool. Women are proud of you.”
I let out a sigh. “Thank you. While that’s nice, I don’t want to take anything away from the team. They deserve the headlines.”
CHAPTER 23
Vee
The number of unread messages in my inbox had decreased to a number that wouldn’t send my OCD into overdrive. I’d spent the afternoon on calls and Zoom meetings with a half dozen of my stadium ops supervisors. Each meeting began with my praises, telling them how impressed I was being closer to the action. They were a dream team, and I was lucky to have them.
I’d waited for a call from Drew to discuss yesterday’s game, but it hadn’t come. I wasn’t taking it too personally, not with the scrambling going on with Dennison’s injury.
Standing, I stretched my sore neck, rolling myhead in one direction and the other. I needed caffeine or a massage. Caffeine was more easily accessible.
