“As sole owner, you have the ultimate authority. You could name yourself as CEO or you could hire a qualified individual. The decision is solely yours.”
“It’s not up to the executive board?”
“Vee, you are sole owner. You could dismiss the entire board and bring in new people. You have full authority. I’m concerned,” she went on, “that you are about to be ambushed. Without proper legal counsel, let’s just say…I’m worried. Vee, Reid had faith in you. His reasons to change his will were more about the guilt that he carried.”
“Guilt?”
“He felt Rachel was unfairly left out of the Coopers’ franchise. That carries on to her children.”
“You’re saying that Dad wanted to right a wrong he felt that my grandfather made?”
“Yes,” Cammy replied. “Do you have someone in mind to represent you?”
“I don’t.” I thought about it. “Leigh is a public defender and an interested party—she can’t defend me. I’ve always had faith in Dad’s choices.”
“I specialize in corporate law. I have the name of a personal-estate attorney. She’s good and deals with clients with substantial wealth. If you decide to call her, you can tell her that I recommended her.”
My mind was swirling. “The personal attorney will be able to help me with Dad’s will, but what about the meeting today? If my own family ambushes me?”
Cammy was silent for a moment. “I can join you for the executive meeting. I’m not there to represent you, but for the Coopers.”
“Thanks, Cammy,” I said, “that would make me feel better. Also, please give me the estate lawyer’s information.”
I wrote down the name, Tricia Loften, and the name and phone number of her law firm. As I hung up, Jen returned with my coffee. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. I have some calls to make. Please don’t let anyone interrupt me.”
Jen stiffened her neck. “Coach Tilson is outside. I told him you were on a call.”
“Tell him I’ll meet with him later in the day.”
“He said it won’t take long.”
“All right, send him in.”
Chapter 12
Vee
Coach Don Tilson was in his eleventh year with the Coopers organization. Dad and Royce Beasley, the general manager, first hired him as a defensive line coach. He moved up to defensive coordinator, and five years ago, he was named head coach, replacing Everington. While we had winning seasons with Tilson and Beasley as the public faces of football operations, the last two had been the most successful. Last year the Coopers made it to the conference championship, our best run of Dad’s tenure. The Coopers played in the Super Bowl in the late 1990s under Grandpa Carroll. It was Royce Beasley’s first year with the team.
That achievement cemented Beasley’s longer-than-usual time as a general manager. Despite his first-year success, the Coopers have never again made it to the Super Bowl.
“Vee,” the coach said, entering my office.
In his mid-fifties, Tilson was a handsome, rugged-looking man who gave off the air of superiority and indifference. He was known for brutal press conferences after a loss and being only slightly more polite after a win.
“Coach” —I gestured toward the chair beyond my desk— “please have a seat.”
Unlike Grant in his custom suit, Coach Tilson was wearing blue jeans and a Coopers pullover. His small pudge of a belly showed that while he knew the best conditioning and moves for the team, he didn’t regularly partake in the workouts himself.
He exhaled. “I’m sorry…”
I shook my head. “We all are. We need to concentrate on the next game, not the past.”
Tilson pressed his lips together and nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Every Monday morning, before we show film and work with the team, I would meet Reid in his office. We’d drink a cup of coffee and discuss the game. It was an unofficial meeting, never scheduled. No one took notes. We simply talked.”
“I didn’t know that.”
