After a meeting with his team, Case hurried to the front offices where all of the business for Daytona Speedway was conducted. He had a meeting with a woman he didn’t want to be late for. It seemed like all he did was sit through meetings these days, but this one was important.
He walked into the office and up to an older woman sitting behind a secretary’s desk. “Mr. Meyer. You’re just in time. Ms. Blye will see you now. Go on in.”
“Thank you,” he said and hurried through the office door.
LuAnne Blye was a middle-aged woman with dark hair and the sort of nose that probably got her teased in elementary school because of the pronounced hook in the middle of it. But she had a bright smile and shook his hand. “Mr. Meyer, have a seat. It’s so nice to speak with you. Congratulations on the p
