Chapter Thirty-one: Hello, Goodbye

The sky was that unbearably deep shade of blue that means autumn in North Carolina. Esme threw up a little prayer of thanks to the baseball gods. It was going to be a gorgeous afternoon.

As usual, Tillie had done her job well. The seats, mostly lawn chairs and collapsible camping chairs, formed perfect rows around the gazebo that served as the stage for concerts at Nirvana Park. Portable tables were set up nearby, laden with all the food that guests had brought to Esme’s potluck BBQ—and whirlwind wedding to Nick.

Esme sat in the back of the red Bronco she and Nick had rented for the day. The windows were heavily tinted, and no one could see her as she observed the scene at the park. She could practically feel her heart expanding as she gazed upon so many of her favorite people gathered in one spot. Her brother and sister-in-law had come down from Chicago. Jackson brought his fancy camera and offered to be the official photographer of the event. He was already taking candid shots of the guests and their surroundings. Beatrice looked lovely and regal, sitting next to Maddie and Carlton. Esme thought there was a calmness and beauty to Beatrice that she had never seen before. Maybe the truth really had set her free. Carlton was next to Maddie who had turned around in her seat, talking happily to her Uncle Craig and his husband, Tom. While Maddie chatted, Carlton played with Craig and Tom’s two young sons. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and stuffed it, overflowing, into their smaller suit pockets which the boys found immeasurably funny. Esme would never want to pressure the young couple, but she could see what a great father Carlton might be someday.

Besides her family, most of the folks who made Sweetgum the magical town it was had come to her party. Ed Remington, Gertrude Thornberry, Charlie from Earl’s Alignment and his new bride, Mykayla, Edna, the Dirty Quilters, Margot from the Sweetgum Community Theater, even Rebecca Ernst and her brood. These are the people who made me who I am today, in so many ways, Esme mused.

Nick’s two daughters and their families had made the last-minute trip to Sweetgum, too, and now Esme had a whole new set of people to get to know and love. She was grateful for the way her life was unfolding.

When Tamika Jones and the Choir of Resistance gathered by the gazebo, Esme knew it was almost time to begin. Across the park, she could make out two figures in blue heading toward the gazebo. Esme opened the window a crack and waited for the processional, the cue to make her grand entrance. There wasn’t time to manage all of the wedding details, so the musical choices had been left to Tamika. The choir began to hum. Nick and his best man, Dante Ellersby, walked up the back steps of the gazebo and came to the front, standing side by side. The crowd started whispering. Dante’s appearance was a surprise, and his presence was causing a sensation.

Tillie rolled a red carpet down the aisle she had kept open between the chairs. The crowd got more restless. Most eyes were glued on Dante. As he brushed his hair back with one hand, there was a very audible gasp from many of the women and some of the men in the crowd. Mrs. Ernst fanned herself briskly with a church fan. Dante had become the star of the show, but Nick used both hands to point to the back of the congregation and redirect their attention.

The crowd gasped again as Esme opened the car door, gathered her enormous train, and walked down the aisle. The choir sailed into “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” Esme paused to laugh at the unexpected show tune. Esme had told Tamika how much she loved The Sound of Music and mentioned that her handmade wedding dress was inspired by the one Julie Andrews wore in the movie. It was simple but elegant with an understated veil—just a ring of fresh flowers with netting behind it. Esme did not consider herself a problem to be solved, but she enjoyed the film reference anyway.

Walking past her friends and family, Esme felt surrounded and elevated by love. Nick held her gaze every step of the way. He wore a crisp, navy pinstripe suit with a Cubbie blue tie. He looked so handsome and assured. Esme knew she was right to accept his proposal. There was no way she wanted to miss the adventure they were starting together.

Ed, who was an ordained officiant, performed the ceremony. His lilting drawl spread over the park so that everyone could hear. For their vows, Nick and Esme had chosen to use a traditional Zen ceremony, agreeing to love, support, respect, and listen to one another.

“I will,” they answered to each pledge in unison, and the congregation was invited to promise their support of the couple, too.

After Ed said Nick could kiss the bride, they started back down the aisle. Esme began to cry. Nick stopped and cupped her face in his hands. “Are you alright? Not regretting your decision?”

The look of concern on his face further undid Esme, but she was smiling, too. “No! I’m just happy and surprised. You were right. Saying vows in front of everyone really did move me. This is powerful and wonderful and I adore you.”

The crowd murmured curiously at the delay in the ceremony’s end. But then Nick leaned Esme back into a Hollywood dip, and she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss so passionate that Mrs. Ernst herded her youngest children off to the restrooms. The crowd let out a wild cheer. The choir performed “Our Love is Here to Stay” as the recessional, and Tamika sang a heartfelt solo. The couple finished their walk down the aisle and greeted a joyful crush of guests.

Maddie was the first one to reach Esme. Her eyes were red, and she clutched Carlton’s handkerchief in one fist. “That was glorious!” She kissed Esme’s cheek. “You look amazing!”

“Better than Dante?” Esme joked. “Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad we could do this before you leave town. I wish your parents could stay longer—”

But there wasn’t time for more conversation. Too many other people were competing for the chance to congratulate the jubilant couple. Even Esme with her endless energy and outgoing personality, was slightly overwhelmed. But she persevered and the ceremony turned into a party. Strings of twinkle lights flickered on. The Sweetgum Gypsy Swing Band struck up a series of inviting dance tunes.

Esme circulated for an hour or so before changing into a billowing skirt and belted blouse in vivid magenta, cobalt blue, and emerald green with gold trim. She made sure to talk to Tillie and Maddie together. “Girls, I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made Nick and me. This is exactly what I had in mind.”

Tillie and Maddie shared a high five.

“It’s got a Boho vibe that fits you, Esme. I almost laughed out loud when my dad was trying to get that picture of your vows and he got tangled up in the potted palm,” Maddie said.

“Me, too!” Esme laughed. “But that made it more memorable. Look, I know that a potluck dinner and hippie dippy wedding is not really either of your things, but it’s beautiful. The flowers especially. I love mums, snapdragons, and dahlias. The bouquet is so sweet.”

Tillie gave Esme a warning look. “Please tell me you're not going to throw that bouquet at a bunch of single women. I don’t want to have to wrestle it out of your hands.”

Esme rolled her eyes. “As if.” She turned to face her niece. “And, Maddie, I know it was hard to pull this off with just my vague suggestions as a guide. But you really nailed it. You too, Tillie.”

Maddie hugged her aunt. “Well, this definitely isn’t my style, and I would have had a few dozen composition books full of notes to prepare. But your pictures torn out of magazines and stuffed in an envelope actually did help.”

“I’ve organized so many sorority events, I could have done this with my eyes closed,” Tillie added.

“I couldn’t help but notice that there’s a stack of Kingsley camp chairs behind the gazebo. Care to explain?”

Tillie actually looked a little sheepish. “If anyone brought one, I gave them a substitute chair. If they asked any questions, I told them it didn’t match the wedding decor.”

“Didn’t anybody mention the UNC and North Carolina State chairs got a pass?” Maddie asked.

“Don’t be a snitch, Boss!”

Esme gave her girls another hug and sped off to mingle with the other guests. She lost count of how many times she was asked if Dante was single and where he was staying. Finally, she was ready to sit down and rest for a bit.

She found her family, Nick and his family, Dante, Tillie, and Carlton gathered around one long table. She thought Carlton looked oddly miffed in the middle of such euphoria.

“Anything wrong?” she asked him.

“Why the hell would you invite Cooper? Hasn’t he done enough damage? He doesn’t deserve to be here.”

“Even Snot Otters deserve a second chance.”

“Do they? I disagree. Look at that asshat working the room. He’s just here to hit on as many women as possible. Every time I think of what he did to Maddie—” Carlton finished half a glass of champagne in one fell swoop. “In fact, I think it’s about time I did something about him. Don’t worry. I won’t disrupt your party, Esme. But you have to admit he has it coming.”

Carlton stood up, and Esme gripped his arm. “Don’t. Please.”

But Carlton jerked away. “This is my business, not yours.”

Just as Esme was about to let him go, Nick stepped in. “I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. But think about this for a minute. Is he really worth it, son?”

“Well…” Carlton began.

“Dance with Maddie instead. She’s trying to catch your eye right now, and man, she looks—”

“Breathtaking,” Carlton finished.

Esme had to agree. She had dressed Maddie in a burgundy, off-the-shoulder dress with a full skirt and cinched waist—reminiscent of Dior’s “New Look.” Her auburn hair had grown longer over the summer and framed her sun-kissed face with graceful waves.

“OK, you’re right. Dancing with Maddie is better than beating up Cooper at your wedding. Thanks for the reality check.” Carlton walked to Maddie and offered his arm to escort her to the dance floor while the band played a swinging version of “All of Me” that would have made Django Reinhardt proud.

“Thank you, Nick.” Esme kissed his cheek and sank back in her chair against him. “It’s a great party, huh?”

“The best.”

It really was. Everything felt soft and easy in the autumn dusk. But Esme saw that Russell Wilde was sitting by himself after Carlton and Maddie, Beatrice and Jackson, and Tom and Craig had left him for the dance floor. Suddenly she had an idea. She got up and went in search of her friend Rita Fitzgerald, a celebrated cabaret singer and playwright, who had just moved to Sweetgum to workshop her latest script with Margot.

She found Rita wearing a green satin cocktail dress that brought out her eyes and invited her to come over and meet Nick—and more importantly, Russell Wilde.

“Russell, this is my dear friend, Rita. She just got here from New York. She’s one of the Fabulous Fitzgerald sisters, you know,” Esme said.

Russell looked a little flummoxed. “No, I don’t know.”

“Really? Netflix is doing a major documentary about the three of them. Rita’s a singer-playwright, Sherry’s a concert pianist-astronaut, and Carolyn’s an Olympic ice dancer-physicist. They’re just remarkable people and so much fun!”

“She’s not exaggerating,” Rita said. “Let’s dance.”

They did, and Esme smiled and congratulated herself. This was a match with potential.

***

“So where are you gonna be living exactly?” Vinny asked. “And just how rich are you?”

“Aww, I’m going to miss you so much, Vinny,” Maddie said.

“Not an answer. Come on, we’re all dying to know. Right, everybody?” Vinny appealed to the rest of the table. Actually, two tables that had been pushed together at the Grand Lunch for Maddie and her beloved baseball crew to share a celebratory breakfast before she and Carlton moved to Chicago.

It was supposed to be a quiet affair, but of course the whole town found out. Now the cafe was completely packed, and Edna had to set up extra seating outside. And there were some notable gate crashers from beyond Sweetgum, including MLB insider and USA Today columnist Bob Nightingale and two Chicago sportswriting legends, Bruce Levine and Paul “Sully” Sullivan. Maddie politely declined to speak to any reporters officially yet but offered them plenty of Edna’s best food in compensation. So far, it was an acceptable bargain, and all three journalists had accepted seconds on the hashbrown casserole.

Maddie put her arm around Carlton and gave him a questioning look. He nodded.

“We might as well tell you. We’re staying at Monty’s old house in the city. That’s the easiest thing for now. But I really don’t consider these things mine. Certainly not the money. That belongs to the team and the fans, and my job is to make sure it serves them well.”

“By ‘Monty’s old house’ you mean his vintage mansion on Dearborn Street,” said Esme. “It’s on the National Register of Historic Places.”

“Seriously, man?” Herb asked Carlton. “You’re going to be living in Castle Monty?”

Carlton shrugged. “I was supposed to refuse?”

“Everyone in Chicago already knows!” shouted Bruce Levine from the reporters’ table. “There’s a huge Gray Sox crowd gathering now. Waiting for you to arrive. Just FYI!”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Maddie waved. “Appreciate you!” She turned back to her friends. “The house is really large, I have to admit. All of you have to come and visit. Promise you will? It’ll make me less sad about leaving.”

“And I’ve got just the thing to wear!” Nick Maddox announced, barreling into the cafe with a large FedEx box and wearing a black and gray T-shirt that read I’m So Fucking Sick of Losing!”

He put the box down on the table in front of Maddie. “These are the hottest selling shirts in the Windy City. I think I’ve got serious competition for marketable slogans. You have no idea what I had to do to get these.” He opened the box and handed out shirts to Maddie and everyone else at the table.

“Oh, Nick! Thank you. I want to wear one right now.” Maddie picked out an Extra Large and slipped it on over her long-sleeve cotton shirt. She adjusted her layers, and her phone rang for the millionth time that morning. Tillie had been screening the calls and keeping a log so Maddie could follow up later, but this call was clearly different.

“You’re gonna want to take this one, Boss.” Tillie wrote a name down on a nearby napkin.

“For real? Oh my gosh, what do I call him?” Maddie whispered.

“Just take the call. Don’t keep him waiting!”

“OK! OK!” Maddie took the phone while the rest of the table stared and listened. “Hi, this is Maddie Fields. What can I do for you, Mr. President? I know you’re a big Sox fan and—OK. Barack. Sure. Well, this is such an honor and yes… Yes, that is the plan. Tell me what you’re thinking.” She listened and nodded, grinning madly and blushing slightly. After a few minutes the conversation ended and Maddie signed off with, “We both want the best for the South Side. The team and the city. Absolutely. Any time. Thanks again. Go Sox!”

“Is that who I think it was?” Carlton asked. “Were you really talking to President Obama?”

“Yep. He’s a true fan. He just called to say good luck, and he had some interesting ideas for the off-season—since I offered to listen to the fans first. Apparently, he’s sick of fucking losing, too.”

“Madison, you should be ashamed of yourself!” Rebecca Ernst had stopped by the table and was waving one of the new T-shirts around. “Using this kind of language on clothes that children can see.” She pulled a roll of silver duct tape out of her shoulder bag, ripped off a strip, and plastered it over the offensive word on one of the shirts.

“Sorry, but desperate times call for desperate measures,” Maddie answered.

Esme stood up and put a steady hand on Mrs. Ernst’s shoulder. “Rebecca, I’m so glad you and your duct tape could be part of the festivities today, but I’ve got a hot tip for you.” She pointed to the reporters’ table. “Why don’t you go tell those men over there your plan for posting the Ten Commandments in every MLB stadium? They’re big city journalists, and you could get a lot of publicity. Go on. Just charm the pants off them. I have faith in you.”

“Well, thank you kindly, Esme!” Mrs. Ernst made a beeline for the unsuspecting gentlemen of the press.

Vinny, Herb, and Carlton collapsed in fits of giggles. Maddie just shook her head. “Esme! Don’t be mean to the press.”

Esme waved her hand. “Oh please! They’re getting hashbrown casserole from Edna. What else do they want?”

“We’ll need to add some lemon ricotta pancakes with raspberry coulis after Mrs. Ernst leaves,” Maddie suggested.

“At the very least,” Carlton added. “Sorry, I don’t want to put a damper on the party, but we should get on the road soon.”

Maddie leaned over and kissed him softly. “I know. I’m dawdling. Do I have time to take one last turn around the room and say goodbye?”

“That could take months.”

“I’ll make it quick.” Maddie got up and the full impact of leaving Sweetgum hit her like a cartoon anvil. She felt wobbly and took a long swig of sweet tea to fortify herself. Then she plowed through the cafe, trying to say a little something to everyone who had come. She was happy to see Alonso Garcia chatting with Nick at the counter.

“Can I tell her?” Alonso asked.

“It’s official. Go ahead,” Nick said.

“The Cubs have offered me a contract for next year as a backup catcher and DH.”

Maddie screamed and pulled Alonso into a hug. “El Sueño comes to the North Side! I’m so happy for you. But I wish the Sox had gotten to you first.”

She continued her circuit through the crowd offering more hugs than Homer the dragon mascot at one of his hugathon fundraisers. Carlton’s dad, Russell, sat at a cozy corner table with Rita Fitzgerald. Esme had introduced them at her wedding and judging from the lively conversation and laughter coming from their table, Maddie surmised that sparks had flown. She admired the matchmaking powers of Esme and felt pleased that Russell had someone new and exciting in his life.

Copious amounts of coffee and sweet tea caught up with her, and Maddie sprinted to the ladies’ room, running into Herb and Vinny on the way. Tears started in the corners of her eyes.

“Damn it, I can’t say goodbye to you guys,” she said. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Herb gave her a bear hug first. “You better come back for my show this winter.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Maddie assured him.

“Vinny, I know it sounds corny, but I’m so, so proud of you.” Maddie turned to embrace Vinny next.

“Fuck off, Mads!” Vinny made a sound that might have been a sniffle, but he quickly squelched it.

Maddie pulled back and held onto his forearms. “Are you OK? Really?” She gave him a close look, trying to see signs of heartache over Tillie. “This is the start of a historic career for you, I’m sure. But if you ever need to talk about more—you know—personal stuff, you can call anytime. You got that?”

“I’m OK,” Vinny stated. “Don’t you know that broken hearts are required for all of us great writers?”

Once she made it to the bathroom, Maddie took a few minutes to cry a little and splashed her face with cold water just as Tillie walked in to freshen her makeup.

“NO! I just stopped crying. You can’t come in here!” Maddie said.

Tillie slung one arm around Maddie, and Maddie held her former intern around the waist. They just stood there without speaking, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Maddie knew that she was seeing a vision of the future in that mirror. That she and Tillie would work together again and do great things. They had only scratched the surface of what they would achieve in time. There was no reason to be sad today.

“Your hair still looks like shit,” Tillie said.

“And yours still looks perfect. How do you do that?”

“See you soon, Boss.”

“You will. We will.”

Maddie left Tillie in the bathroom and bumped into her aunt.

“Carlton’s pulling the car around back,” Esme said. “He asked me to find you so you guys could load up. I brought your things and put them by Edna’s back door.”

“You never stop doing things for everyone, do you? Particularly me. I owe you so much. And I love you so much.”

Esme took both of Maddie’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “We have a great big love, you and me. Nothing can ever change that.”

“True. But I’m glad Nick’s here now. He seems like he really belongs in Sweetgum, too. And you’ll be in Chicago more often. So, this isn’t goodbye.”

“No. It’s Hello, Goodbye.”

“I love a good Beatles reference.”

“I love you.” Esme gave Maddie a quick hug. “Now go.”

And so, Maddie met Carlton in the alley behind the Grand Lunch. He was busy arranging luggage in the back seat and trunk of the Alfa Romeo. The top was down. The car gleamed in the morning sunlight. Maddie loaded the rest of her bags. When they were finished, he put his arms around her and she gave him the kiss to end all kisses. She marveled at how it always felt like an amazing discovery to kiss him. Every single time.

At last, she stopped and took a breath. “I love that we’re doing this together. This huge mountain we’re heading for… It’s the best thing in the universe to be heading there with you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “It is, Maddie. And I know this is going to be the trip of a lifetime. Of many lifetimes.” He hugged her again. “I can’t help worrying about you, though. Is that OK?”

“Of course it is, but how come?”

“Well, this is all heady and exhilarating now. But it’s not going to be easy. You’ll be the only solo, female majority owner in Major League Baseball. In a very tough city, that can turn on you very quickly. You’re walking into a wild and wooly lion’s den…”

Maddie nodded, biting her lip and bouncing lightly in her Keds. “Uh huh. Yeah.”

Carlton’s face broke into a huge grin. “You can’t wait, can you?”

“NO!” she shouted and kissed him again while he lifted her up, laughing.

With that, they climbed into the car and drove around to the front of the Grand Lunch where Esme had the crowd gathered to say farewell. From out of nowhere, a large rock came hurtling through the air toward Carlton and Maddie in the front seat of the Alfa.

“Good luck, assholes!” shouted Cooper.

But the rock missed its target by a wide margin and smashed through the picture window of The Grand Lunch. Fortunately no one was left inside the cafe.

“Cooper Kinsman, you are banned from my restaurant for the rest of your shitbag life!” yelled Edna.

“Hey Snot Otter, your second chance is up!” Tillie added and started after him. Cooper squealed and ran amid cheers and laughter from the cafe crowd.

As Cooper took off running, Maddie raised a hand high and flipped him off. Carlton revved the engine and they were on their way, cruising toward the highway. Maddie waved to her friends, and they waved back, shouting goodbyes and good wishes. Sam Ernst’s band began a wicked blues riff, and Sam sang out loud and clear:

Come on, baby don’t you want to go?

Back to the same old place, sweet home, Chicago!

Maddie leaned back in her car seat and put on her sunglasses. She was sitting by the man she loved, going to the city she loved, doing the work she loved. Yeah, she really did want to go.

And just wait ‘til I get there, she thought. You boys ain’t seen nothin’ yet!

******

Dear Readers,

You’ve just read the final chapter of Wilde Pitch, and we sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. We’re grateful to everyone who has been a part of this summer of love, humor, and baseball! All of your wonderful comments and questions have given us an enormous amount of pleasure, exceeding our wildest Wilde Pitch expectations. Thank you.

But we’re not quite finished. Next Sunday is the final day of the regular MLB season, and we’ll publish an Impactful Epilogue and a Tolkien-style Appendix which follows the main characters in this story over the next five decades. Until then… Let’s play two!

- Debra Mitchell & Laura Younkin

THE BASEBALL WRITERS: BOB, BRUCE, AND PAUL

Bob Nightengale is one of the most widely recognized names in baseball media, known for breaking news on trades and contracts and bold predictions. He is good friends with White Sox owner Jerry Reinsdorf, and his rumor reports about the Sox are often interpreted as whispers straight from the owner.

Bruce Levine is the co-host of Inside the Clubhouse, a comprehensive long-running radio magazine devoted to the Chicago baseball fan. The show is on every Saturday all year round and can be heard on 104.3 The Score or the Audacy app. Bruce is the ultimate baseball insider. His distinctive voice and humor can be heard after almost every Chicago home game, asking questions of Cubs and Sox players and managers.

Paul “Sully” Sullivan is a veteran sports journalist and columnist for the Chicago Tribune. He has spent 44 covering the Cubs and the White Sox. He has been named Illinois Sportswriter of the Year three times (2015, 2016, and 2019) and was honored with the prestigious Ring Lardner Award for career excellence in sports journalism in 2019.

Paul wrote an excellent book about the 2016 Cubs: The Weight Lifted: How the Cubs ended the longest drought in ...

BARACK IS A SOX FAN, TOO

*President Obama throwing out the first pitch in the 2009 All-Star Game*

A FEW FEMALE MLB OWNERS … AND ONLY ONE GM

Other notable women in ownership roles:

Joan Whitney Payson (New York Mets, 1962) was the first woman to own an MLB team independently without family inheritance.

Marge Schott (Cincinnati Reds, 1984) was the first woman to purchase a controlling interest in a franchise herself.

Grace Comiskey (White Sox 1939-1956) inherited the team from her husband and managed the franchise as president for over a decade.

Jean Yawkey (Boston Red Sox, 1976-1992) took control of the franchise following the death of her husband Tom.

Jackie Autry (Los Angeles Angels, 1998-1999) managed the team operations after the death of her husband Gene.

Linda Alvarado (Colorado Rockies, 1991) was the first Hispanic woman to own a limited partnership share of a team as part of the initial ownership group.

RECENT DEVELOPMENTS

Carlton is correct. There are no solo, female majority owners right now in Major League Baseball.

However, the San Diego Padres’ franchise was officially sold to Jose E. Feliciano and Kwanza Jones on August 17, 2026.

Feliciano is a Puerto Rican businessman and investor.

Jones is an artist and philanthropist. She graduated from Princeton and began her singing career by winning Amateur Night at the Apollo Theater in Harlem.

Jones will be the Padres’ co-owner along with her husband.

PLAYLIST