Painting the Corners

by Bob Weintraub

  “What about New Year’s Eve?”

  “I can’t leave them alone and go out with you. It wouldn’t be right. They don’t know anything about Kansas City. We’re just going to have a girls’ night together and watch Times Square on TV.”

  When the holiday had passed, they met at a small Italian restaurant just a block away from her high-rise condo building. That’s when he learned that there was no paperwork for the accountant and that the one friend who visited had stayed for only a day.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but I couldn’t see you until I was sure of what I wanted to say.” As the tears rolled down her cheeks and she picked at her food every so often until it was cold, Michelle told Gregg that she didn’t want to spend a lot of time with him before the baby was born. She could see how attached he would become to it if he was around while she grew bigger, and she was certain that would lead to problems after she gave birth.

  “I told you that you didn’t have to get emotionally involved and I meant it. You’ve done me a great big favor, Gregg, something I’ll never be able to repay, but now I don’t want you to make things harder for me or for the baby. I’ve got to bring it up my own way, without caring about whether you agree or not. That’s going to be very tough for you to take if you keep thinking of yourself as the father. It’s just best for you not to be involved anymore and to get on with your own life.”

  “Hold it right there.” Gregg’s arms flew up in the air as he spoke. “You don’t seem to understand that what I want is to be with you. I got you pregnant because that’s what you wanted, and I agreed to every word your lawyer wrote about waiving any rights I had toward the baby. I know that legally I’m simply the sperm donor, period. But that’s got nothing to do with how I feel about you. If there was no baby thing going on here, I’d still feel the same way.” He hesitated before going on. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you.”

  Before she could answer, the waiter was standing at the table. “Finished?” he asked uncertainly, seeing most of the food on their plates.

  “Yes,” they answered simultaneously. Michelle used the interruption to find some tissues in her pocketbook.

  “Was everything all right?” He looked from one to the other.

  “Yes,” Gregg said. “We just weren’t as hungry as we thought.”

  The waiter suggested some cappuccino and they agreed. He cleared the table and moved away.

  Michelle picked up where Gregg had left off. “Listen, you’re a wonderful man, and I’ve enjoyed being with you. But right now there just isn’t enough room in my life for another person. I’m in love with having a baby, and knowing what that means for me. I don’t think I’m ready to see if I’m in love with you, too.”

  Gregg waited until they were looking in each other’s eyes. “You mean you wouldn’t marry me if I asked?”

  Michelle hesitated, turned away momentarily, and then looked at him again. “I wouldn’t want you to ask, not now.”

  There was a long silence at the table before he spoke. Their eyes avoided each other. “So what are you saying?” he finally asked. “That we just break it off cold?”

  He watched as she bit her lip, and he could see how close she was to crying. “No, I wouldn’t want that either,” Michelle said. “Call me on the phone. Let’s see each other once in a while.” She paused and managed a half smile, even as mist appeared in her eyes. “I’ve got to keep an eye on you every so often just to make sure you’re in shape for your comeback. You’ve got those games to win.”

  Gregg realized that it was useless to try and change her mind. “Yeah, that’s right,” he answered, willing to change the subject. “What does your doctor say? Am I going to have the month of September to pitch?”

  “He’s still not sure. You may have to throw some games on just two days rest to get enough starts.”

  He laughed. “Well, in case that manager of yours ever asks, you tell Foxy I always thought three days between starts was more than I needed.”

  * * *

  Early in February, Michelle attended the club owners’ meeting in Sarasota. It felt strange, at first, not having Wayne Lancaster sitting next to her, but the long grind of the business that had to be discussed was enough to put her at ease. She fielded the questions that were asked of her directly and joined in the debate over various matters some of the more recalcitrant owners had on their agendas. When the formal sessions ended each day, she gave interviews to the media.

  A number of owners brought their general managers with them to the four-day conference. Inevitably, there was a steady stream of trade talk in the lobby, in private suites, and over dinner at some of the fashionable, multi-star restaurants on Long Boat Key. Executives from other clubs tested Michelle’s knowledge of baseball talent by proposing various player exchanges between their teams and the Royals. Don Aikens had not accompanied her to Florida, another consequence of the trustees’ bottom line outlook on everything. Michelle made notes of every deal that was offered her, and led some of the other owners on, almost unconscionably, by feigning enthusiasm over how well some of their players would fit into the Royals’ lineup. She promised to get back to all of them either before or during spring training.

  “Whatever happened to Gregg Talbot?” a National League general manager asked her.

  The question raised hairs on the back of her neck. Michelle hadn’t spoken to Gregg recently, but on hearing his name she immediately pictured herself in his embrace. She also had a suddenly ominous feeling that the verbal agreement each of the owners had made with Wayne Lancaster to deny Talbot a spot on their rosters might not have survived her uncle’s death. If that were the case, Michelle told herself, some of them might see him as a desirable free agent to sign and bring into spring training for a tryout. She realized that it would be a wonderful opportunity for Gregg to be able to go to another team and have a whole season to pick up the victories he needed. She also knew that she didn’t want to see it happen.

  “The last time I saw him he was eating Italian food and drinking cappuccino,” she said. Then, hoping that her companion had immediately gotten a mental image of an athlete going to pot, she attempted to drive home the point, adding, “I’d say that he’s put on a fair amount of weight.” It was all true, she told herself, but she was ashamed of every word.

  “Too bad,” he replied. “Probably still had some good games left in that arm of his.”

  “Who knows?” Michelle said, and shrugged her shoulders.

  The alarm raised by the question remained uppermost in Michelle’s mind. As soon as she returned to Kansas City, she put in a conference call to the three trustees. She gave them her opinion of some of the trades that had been proposed to her at the meeting, along with her view of a number of free agents who were still unsigned.

  “According to their agents, they’re negotiating with different teams. We’ll have to be ready to move fast if we want to go after any of them.”

  The trustees knew little about talent or value in comparing or assessing ballplayers. Still, they reminded her that they retained the final word on all trades, free agent signings, and contracts. She couldn’t push any buttons in those areas unless at least two of them agreed with her and authorized the deal.

  “By the way,” she said, “I’d like to sign Gregg Talbot to a minor league contract before some other team grabs him. We may need some more pitching later on in the season and I think he could help us. It would be a relatively cheap investment.”

  Their negative response was immediate and unanimous. “Michelle, I think your Uncle Wayne would start spinning in his grave if we said ‘okay’ to that,” Herb Collins told her. “Forget about Talbot. His career with the Royals is over.”

  * * *

  In the middle of spring training Michelle got permission from the trustees to trade the veteran Royals third baseman, Eddie Waldiman, to the Baltimore Orioles. In return, Kansas City received Don Campbell, a second-year pitcher who had won only five games
in his rookie season. The trustees saw the deal strictly as an opportunity to trade a seven-figure salary for one in the low sixes, and quickly approved. They didn’t ask Michelle who was going to fill Waldiman’s spot for the team, and she didn’t tell them that she was very close to reaching agreement with Henry “Dutch” Alcorn, a Cardinals free agent, for that position.

  Alcorn’s own agent had been up front with her. He let Michelle know that the only other team bidding for the third baseman’s services was San Diego. Although the offer from that club exceeded the numbers Michelle had been discussing by almost a million dollars over a three-year period, Alcorn would take less for the chance to play with a pennant contender. He didn’t want to go to the Padres, and St. Louis had already decided to fill his position and one other with rookies in order to bring its payroll in line.

  Michelle was enthusiastic about having Alcorn on the team. He was a long ball threat who had hit 27 home runs the year before, despite losing a month with a wrist injury. She felt that at 29 he was ready to blossom into a star. She was certain he would be even more productive on a steady diet of fastballs in the American League than he’d been against the National League’s curveball pitchers with whom he had to contend. Moreover, Alcorn had a reputation for being an inspirational leader, and Michelle knew that was something the Royals needed. She was eager to wrap up the negotiations when she called and informed Herb Collins of all the advantages of adding Alcorn to the team. But she was shocked and angry when Collins reached her in Vero Beach the next day and told her the trustees had rejected the deal. Michelle had difficulty informing Alcorn’s agent of her change of heart without revealing the truth about her limbo status with the Royals.

  * * *

  On the night before Opening Day in Kansas City, Michelle had dinner with Gregg at a Thai restaurant. She was glad to see him — it was the first time they’d been out together in almost three months — but unhappy about the fact that the Royals had lost their first two games of the season in Cleveland.

  “Are you sure you’re pregnant?” he asked. “You don’t look it to me.”

  She was wearing a black suit, and had recently let out the skirt enough so that she was comfortable in it. Her initials, “MCE,” were sewn onto the breast pocket of her lime-colored blouse, and a black pearl gave the pocket its buttoned-down look. A long necklace, made up of assorted wooden shapes and polished seashells, stopped just above her waist.

  “It’ll show pretty soon,” she said.

  “I just want to be sure I’m not putting in all that time in the gym for nothing. When I’m flat on my back holding those weights over my head, all I think about is being on the mound again. By September I’ll either be the best-conditioned pitcher in baseball or a basket case.”

  They both laughed.

  “Did your agent try and find anything for you?” she asked.

  Gregg shook his head from side to side. “He called three or four clubs. But he said he could tell from the way they talked to him that nothing had changed. I was in Florida for two and a half weeks last month, just in case any managers had a sudden urge to watch me throw. But no one wants any part of Gregg Talbot. Good old Wayne did a great selling job.”

  “Don’t forget, ‘He who laughs last,’” she said. “Some of those teams will regret it when they see what you do for us.”

  He pointed his finger toward her stomach. “If that little package you’re hiding gives me a chance. Anyway, how’s that team of yours going to do this year?”

  Michelle looked to the side a few moments before answering, as if gathering her thoughts. “I think we’ll be right up there with a few other clubs all season because no one in our division is very strong. But if we had signed Dutch Alcorn, I think we would have had an easy time finishing first.”

  “You went after Alcorn?”

  “I practically had his name on the dotted line for a million less than the Padres are paying him, but the three stooges nixed it.” She emphasized her displeasure with them by banging her fist on the table. “I take that back. I shouldn’t call them names. They’re only concerned with the bottom line and making sure the Royals stay in the black. It’s not like they checked out Alcorn and decided he wasn’t worth the money.”

  Gregg nodded his head.

  “But you didn’t invite me to dinner to hear me talk about baseball, did you?” She gave him her biggest smile.

  “I’ll talk about baseball, Michael Jackson, or that whatchamacallit treaty we just signed with Mexico. Anything you like. I just wanted to be with you for a few hours and find out how you’re doing.”

  His words made her feel wonderful and she realized how much she missed him. “Thanks, Gregg. I’m fine. I’m frustrated at the position Wayne’s put me in, but that will end eventually. A week ago I felt the baby move for the first time. I was so excited I broke down and cried.” He could see tears come into her eyes when she spoke about it. “There have been days when I wished you were there, but I’m doing all right.”

  “I can be there any time you want,” he said.

  Michelle inhaled and let out a deep breath. She was trying hard to control herself. “I know it, and I wish you knew how reassuring that is to me. But I haven’t changed my mind about what I told you last time. I still think it would be bad for you to get emotionally involved right now.”

  They talked about it for a few more minutes until Gregg saw that there was no point in pursuing the subject. He didn’t want to make her regret accepting his invitation. They spoke about other things, but by the time they finished the chicken coconut soup, the half order of pad thai, the grilled beef in sesame sauce, and the mango ice cream, the conversation had returned to baseball several times. Gregg told her that he had a grandstand seat for the opener and predicted victory over the Twins.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Michelle said. She touched his water glass with hers and took a sip.

  “Can I take you home?” he asked. “I’m parked right outside.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  He reached across the table for her hand. “Listen, when we get to your building I’ll pull up in front and just watch from the car until you get in the door, okay?”

  She nodded her head up and down without saying a word. Then, quickly, before he could see it, she wiped the tear from just under her eye with the back of her hand.

  * * *

  Michelle’s prediction held up for the first three months of the season. The Royals stayed in the race for the western division lead, never falling more than five games out of first place. When play ended on July 4th — the midway point of the season — the team’s seven-game winning streak had brought it to within a half game of the Seattle Mariners. Still, Michelle realized that the ball club needed a strong cleanup hitter if it was going to remain in contention.

  A week later, after what seemed to her like endless hours of discussion with Don Aikens and his follow-up negotiations with other teams, the Royals found themselves with the opportunity of obtaining Russ Middleton from the Houston Astros for cash and a minor league player. The Astros were going nowhere in their own league and wanted to unload Middleton’s contract. Michelle was certain that his presence in the heart of Kansas City’s lineup would supply the power the team had been missing. She also saw him as the key to improving their record in the tight one and two-run games played the rest of the season.

  In the conference call that ensued, two of the three trustees came out against the deal. They wanted no part of Middleton’s large salary, which was guaranteed for the next two years, and expressed confidence that the Royals could continue to fight for first place without him. Michelle knew their words were just wishful thinking. A week later, the Astros sold Middleton to the Toronto Blue Jays who were already four games ahead in the American League’s eastern division. In the weeks that followed, Middleton’s slugging pushed his new team to an insurmountable lead. At the same time, the Royals stumbled badly, losing a number of close games that could have gone in their f
avor with a hit at the right time. Michelle’s team was leading the league in runners left on base.

  On Friday, July 29th, Kansas City was in third place, behind Seattle and California.

  That morning, the trustees arrived at Royals Stadium for their semi-annual review of the team’s financial status with Michelle. Joining her in her office, they discovered that she was pregnant and approximately six weeks away from having her baby. None of them had seen her since their meeting in the same room at the end of January. They congratulated her on her impending motherhood and confessed that they were unaware she had gotten married.

  “You must have eloped,” Herb Collins said. “I wish at least one of my three daughters had done that. I could be retiring a lot sooner.” His fellow trustees chuckled.

  Michelle replied as casually as she could. “I don’t have a husband. Actually, I intend to be a single parent, at least for a while.”

  They looked askance at each other, obviously surprised at hearing this, but didn’t say anything. Michelle took a pile of papers off her desk and put them on the conference table. “Well, let’s get to work,” she said.

  On the following Monday, Collins telephoned Michelle and said that it was urgent he see her again. He declined her invitation to meet over lunch and came to the ballpark that afternoon. As they sat in Michelle’s office, he told her first that the trustees now regretted the decisions they had made about Dutch Alcorn and Russ Middleton. They were aware of recent newspaper stories by reporters covering the team that the Kansas City ownership appeared unwilling to spend the money to purchase either player. The fans were irate and beginning to express strong doubt that management was interested in doing whatever it could to help the Royals win.