Coming Home (Home Sweet Home #1)

One

T he elevator chimed its arrival on the top floor of a twenty-five-story building located smack dab in the middle of the Loop in Chicago. Scott Brandonson cared little about real estate location, but his clients cared a lot. Not that many of them ever visited the office. Scott almost always went to them. However, his clients wanted to be able to one-up their colleagues when they compared their agent’s office locations.

Scott plastered on the charmingly insincere grin he’d perfected back in high school and stepped into the bustling office space. Stopping in front of his assistant’s desk, Scott set a cup of coffee down on Georgia’s desk and patiently waited for her to finish a phone call.

He’d inherited Georgia from his mentor, Les, who abruptly retired five years ago and surprised the sporting world by handing off his agency and all his clients to the then twenty- seven-year-old Scott. In actuality, Les handed off the agency to Scott, but under the capable hands of Georgia. She had guided Scott along the path to his success and to the title of wunderkind of sports agents.

The older woman looked up at him and smiled as she hung up the phone. “Good morning, Scott. The commissioner called. He wants to know what you know and how you know it.”

Scott grinned at the woman, who by all rights should have retired when Les had. “I went to law school with the independent investigator’s son. She called me to ask some background questions when she realized the league was giving her scripted answers. I didn’t read her report, but I could guess the way the wind was blowing by her questions.”

“We’ll just tell him it was your keen sense of observation, then.”

“Good idea.”

“Want me to get Arlen on the phone?”

“Please.” He continued on to his office door then stopped just before walking into his sanctum while at work. “Georgia, what am I going to do when you retire?”

“I’m not retiring anytime soon.”

“Why not? Didn’t your husband retire a few years ago?”

“I promised Les I’d watch over you.”

“I can survive just fine on my own. It will be difficult, but I think I can manage without you.”

She made a noise of disagreement but didn’t say anything.

A young man, a boy really, hurried down the hall and came to an abrupt halt when he spotted Scott in the hallway. “Good morning, Mr. Brandonson.”

“Mark.” Scott nodded to the kid as he resumed his race to wherever it was he was headed.

“Mike.” Georgia corrected Scott.

“What?”

“Mike. His name is Mike, not Mark. But you got two letters right, so that’s something.”

“I could have sworn his name was Mark.”

“Probably because you called him that once, and he’s too scared to correct you. Interns are kind of stupid that way. Les called you Steve for three months and you never corrected him.”

Scott brushed away Georgia’s words with a wave of his hand and stepped into his office. “Arlen, Georgia.”

“I’m on it.”

He settled into his comfortable but ugly chair, according to Georgia, and straightened the surface of his desk so everything he needed during the call would be within reach. The phone on his desk rang and Scott answered.

“Arlen, how are you? Looking forward to retiring?”

“I’m not sure looking forward to is the best phrase, but I can say I’m looking forward to not having to soak in an ice bath after a walk around the block.”

“And your nieces? How are they doing?” Scott moved on to the next item on his list of small talk topics before circling back to the main reason for the call — constructing the perfect statement for Arlen to read to the press announcing his retirement.

“Amelia is twelve going on thirty. She actually has a boyfriend, but Margret is great. She promised me she wasn’t ever going to have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Twelve-year-olds have boyfriends?”

“I told you. Twelve going on thirty. And I don’t know if he’s a boy who’s a friend or a boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe you should ask her?”

“Scott, have you ever had a conversation with a twelve-year-old girl? You ask those questions if you want a door slammed in your face.”

Arlen had taken custody of his nieces because his sister had made him promise that he’d care for them when her cancer turned from a fighting chance to a losing battle. He’d become more parent than uncle, and now called Scott more about how to handle the two girls than how to handle retiring from football. Not that Scott was any real help with parenting. He looked back at what his father had done when he was growing up and suggested Arlen do the exact opposite. So far, it seemed to be working.

“Well, the team doesn’t want to slam the door in your face. They want to know if you’d consider taking on a coaching position?”

“As much as the girls love the town, and we all wouldn’t mind staying, I promised my sister I’d watch over them and I can’t do that and stay in football. Coaching takes up even more time than playing.”

“You already told them no.”

“I already told them no.”

“What about the list of endorsements I sent you?” Another item crossed off the list of topics to cover before they focused on the real reason for the call.

“If they’ll let me do everything in a weekend, sure, but you and I both know that’s not how it works.”

“What about broadcasting? A few networks have inquired about the possibility of you doing color work.”

“Nope. That’s would take me away even more than coaching. I’d have to watch film on two teams every week instead of one.”

“How about we don’t give anyone a hard no and tell them we’ll revisit offers after you get settled in retirement?”

“How come none of this has leaked to the press yet?”

“Between the team and me, we’ve promised to cut off any future deals if they let anything leak. Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.” Scott leaned back in his chair and almost kicked his feet up onto his desk. He would have, if he wasn’t sure Georgia would swoop in and sweep his feet off the desk the minute his heels hit the surface. “The team doesn’t want to lose you.”

“The team has a quarterback more than capable of stepping into the position. He’s sat behind me long enough. He can’t learn anything more without getting out on the field and getting games under his belt.”

According to Arlen, he had been in the league long enough to accumulate enough records that likely wouldn’t be surpassed for several more years. of those records included starting every game from the first time he stepped on the field to take over for the quarterback who experienced a season-ending injury. Playing through all those injuries even when he shouldn’t have even been dressed, much less playing, took a toll and Scott didn’t blame Arlen for wanting to take it easy.

“Hey, Scott, hear anything from the girls’ father?”

“According to the attorneys, he hasn’t given up his fight for custody. But don’t worry about it. I have my top investigators on it. They think it’s just a money grab. He’s convinced you’ll write him a check to get him to walk away.”

“I will. There’s a reason my sister wanted me as their guardian and not him.”

“You will not pay him a single penny. If you pay him off once, he’ll just keep coming back. Let the investigators and attorneys do their job.”

“If you’re sure. I just don’t want a possible custody battle looming over the girls’ heads. Amelia knows her father well enough that she’ll refuse to even set foot in the same room with him, but Margret hasn’t spent enough time with him to know any better.”

“I’m sure.” Scott leaned forward and sighed at the sight of all the offers available to Arlen. Even accepting the offer with the least time commitment would have earned him millions of dollars. And it would have made Scott an easy 15%. But Arlen was the first time Scott ever broke the golden rule of being a sports agent — clients aren’t your friends. So now, instead of focusing on how Arlen could make the most money in the limited time available, Scott worried about things like how to make sure Arlen kept custody of his nieces. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Selling girl scout cookies. I even got a little red wagon for us to drag through the neighborhood.”

“Well, I’m sure your niece won’t have any problems making sales.”

“For the number of wreaths, garlands, tins of popcorn, candy, and cookies I’ve bought throughout my years there, I don’t feel too guilty. What about you? Have a hot date?”

“Flying to South Dakota.”

“What? It’s the weekend Brandonson. You need to stop working every now and then.”

“He’s a hot prospect and no one’s paying attention to him yet because he’s not in the SEC or Big Ten. But he’s getting NIL interest.”

“Who is it?”

“Some kid you won’t know.”

“Try me.”

“Tobin Carson.”

“The kid who grew up in such a small town he played both sides in 7 v 7? He’s that good?”

“Not yet. But he will be. With his athletic score, his character, and the right team he’ll be better than good. Gronk good.”

“With the right team? You already have one in mind?”

“Nothing official. Don’t want to get dragged out for tampering, but I’ve dropped his name to a few scouts.”

“Have you even met the kid yet?”

“Nope. The coach called and asked me to keep an eye on him from the distance.”

Arlen laughed loudly. “From one kid who grew up in the middle of nowhere to another, drop my name and call me. I’ll convince him you’re the real deal.”

“Thanks. I might have to take you up on that offer.”

“But you’ll have to do something for me.”

“What?”

“At the risk of sounding like a Cat Stevens song, find a girl and settle down.”

Scott wasn’t sure if the condition for help was an attempt to not work on the retirement statement or because Arlen genuinely wanted Scott to, as the Cat Stevens’s song said, find a girl and settle down.

If it was the former, he understood Arlen’s avoidance. No player wanted to retire and Arlen would have kept playing if his sister’s two daughters hadn’t fallen into his lap. Arlen couldn’t play and raise the girls. He tried last season, but it was a lost cause. Hence the reason for the call. They needed to find the perfect balance between optimism for the future and reluctance over leaving the game Arlen loved since he was in Pop Warner as a kid. It wasn’t like the sportswriters weren’t already circling, but that was because they circled every year since Arlen turned forty.

“No time for relationships, Arlen. They don’t ever work with my job. Every woman I’ve dated ends up leaving after they realize they’re the mistress and my job is the wife. Work and relationships don’t mix.”

“You just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

“Or maybe I didn’t realize she was the right one.” He spoke his thoughts aloud without meaning to.

“What’s this? Are you telling me there’s someone out there and you, the man who gets everything he wants, haven’t gone after her?”

“That ship sailed. Besides, I haven’t seen her in years. She’s from Iron Creek and probably married some nice guy and has a family now.” Scott cleared his throat. The less he thought about the girl from back home that he never took a chance on, the better. He quickly changed the subject. “To keep on the good side of the team and the league, we need to emphasize that you’re retiring because it’s what’s best for your family and we can push back on any coaching questions by circling back to doing what’s best for your family.”