Fake It Till You Bake It(12)

Her late husband had bought the team twenty years ago, and after he passed away five years later, she hadn’t sold the team like all the experts had expected her to. Today, the Knights were one of the league’s most successful franchises and worth over three billion dollars.

In other words, there was no one else he’d rather get advice from. If anyone knew how to beat the odds, it was her.

Twenty minutes later, he greeted the petite woman with a hug. She always smelled like expensive perfume. She cared not one iota that her most famous employees towered over her and outweighed her on average by 130 pounds. He stepped back. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in its customary I-mean-business bun, along with a sleek designer black dress. “How are you doing, Mrs. T?”

“I’m fabulous as always, Donovan.” She gestured for him to follow her into her office that overlooked the practice field at the team’s state-of-the-art training facility. “I can evaluate the players and coaches while getting other work done at the same time,” she liked to say.

The office was actually a suite. Yes, it had the prerequisite working area of desk and chair, but it also housed a separate sitting area with a loveseat, several armchairs, and a minibar. A huge TV dominated one wall above a mantel, while shelves crammed with books lined the opposite wall. Photos of her family dotted the room, along with Knights memorabilia. He spotted a helmet he’d signed on his draft night on the mantel.

“Can I get you some coffee?” She gestured to the bar. “Or maybe something stronger?”

He thought he should refrain from pointing out that it was nine thirty in the morning. “Thanks for asking, but I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” She picked up a black ceramic mug emblazoned with HBIC in red on one side and the Knights’ silver shield logo on the other. Donovan chose not to worry about what else filled the cup besides coffee. She gestured for him to take one armchair while she sat across from him. She crossed her legs and leaned toward him. “How are you doing?”

Donovan rubbed the back of his neck. “I have some things on my mind.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something from my stash?” she asked with a smile and nod toward the bar. “I only supply the best.”

He sighed. “It’s tempting.”

A concerned expression replaced her smile. “Are you sure you should be here without your agent? He’d have your hide if he thought you were negotiating a contract extension without him.”

Donovan chuckled. “I can handle Adam. But, no, that’s not why I’m here. It’s not football-related. But we’re both looking forward to the team’s offer.” He had one year left on his contract. Contract extension talks had already started between Donovan’s agent and the team, but nothing was imminent. That’s how contract negotiations went. He was used to it by now. Or as okay with it as a player could be.

This might be his last contract, certainly the last one guaranteed to come with a big payday, since he was an “aging” player at thirty. The NFL was wild that way.

“I’m sure you are.” She settled back against the cushion and studied him. “Then what’s troubling you?”

He sighed. “It’s about Sugar Blitz.”

She nodded, familiar with his latest venture. “Okay. What about it?”

He quickly explained the bakery’s declining sales. She nodded, sipping her coffee while he spilled his guts. When he finished, he blew out a breath. “Maybe I will have that coffee.” He stood and walked across the room to pour a cup. As he made the return trip, he prayed she’d come up with some words of wisdom during the delay.

“I’m sorry you haven’t had the success you anticipated. I know how hard you work, so that’s not the cause of the problem.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “When I took over the team, I quickly realized I couldn’t rest on my husband’s laurels. I had to put my stamp on the team and impress the league, which was not interested in having a woman, a Black woman at that, running one of their precious franchises.

“I asked myself, ‘What do I bring to the table? How can I make this team stand out—to fans and to players looking for a new team to play for?’ The answer came to me right away. My listening skills are top notch. I listened to players, coaches, fans, league officials. Anyone who had an opinion on how to improve the team. I went from there.”

Donovan nodded. “I thought I figured that out. Our cupcakes are the best in the city.”

Her lips spread into a grin. “I know. That’s why I have a standard weekly order for the front office staff.”

“And it’s greatly appreciated.” He smiled for what felt like the first time since—well, since a certain cupcake shop critic visited his shop.

Mrs. T took another sip of coffee. “But it can’t just be the cupcakes. People love cupcakes, but there are a lot of businesses supplying them. What makes people want to return to your store?”

He always appreciated her honesty. That’s why he’d sought her opinion. She wasn’t going to tell him what she thought he wanted to hear. He nodded. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll do whatever it takes to make Sugar Blitz successful.”

She studied his face, then nodded. “I believe you will.” She paused, her head tilting to the side in contemplation. She spoke slowly. “Yes, I do believe you will.” She refocused on him, her expression now sharp and determined. “I have a favor to ask.”