“Is that a bad thing?”
My heart thumped as I waited for him to answer. Had I been chasing down a faulty muse this whole time?
“No.” He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s agoodthing. He’s lucky. He was born under sunny skies. Unfortunately, that’s not everyone’s experience.” Another long sip from the can. “It definitely wasn’t mine.”
He put it out there, so it was totally fine for me to push a little. “What do you mean?”
“Winning is in his bloodline. Kai went to Yale. So did his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. Kai graduated and went to work for the investing firm his dad founded. From what I can tell, he’s never known struggle.” Owen paused and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Okay, maybeImake him struggle on the court, but that’s not a real-life challenge.”
“Well,” I began, “you can’t know the entirety of a person based on a few pickleball lessons.”
“We’ve been working together for a while.” He shrugged as he finished off the beer. “You’d be surprised how much I can figure out during lessons. Obviously, I can read my clients’ physical abilities, but there’s more. Does he respect my time? How does he respond to corrections? Does he get angry when he makes a mistake, or is he more frustrated? Does he have fun while he’s playing? Is he able to put my constructive criticism to work? Does he gloat when he wins or pout when he loses? Coaching gives me a snapshot of the best and worst of a person, so even though Idon’tknow the entirety of my clients, I sure get a good sense of them.”
“So is he... a dick?” I asked tentatively.
“Nope.” Owen shook his head as he stared out into the black water. “Not a dick at all. He’s just... simple. And I’m not saying that he’s not intelligent or anything. I mean, simple like... he doesn’t have the nooks and crannies that make up a real, lived life. He’s smooth, like marble.”
“Well, marble is beautiful and strong,” I offered, feeling a little bad that Owen was dismissing Kai.
“And expensive and easily stained. It needs lots of special care, like sealing.”
“So if Kai is marble, what are you?” I asked.
“Me?” Owen chuckled and looked down at the can in his hands. “I’d say I’m... a brick.”
I barked out a laugh.
“It’s true.” He shrugged. “Bricks are ubiquitous. You’d never pick up a brick and think, ‘Yup, gorgeous.’ But you know that a brick gets the job done.”
I leaned away and squinted at him. “I’m sorry, did you just call yourself a basic brick?”
He shrugged again. “Sure. And I don’t have a problem with it.”
“Bricks are rough and scratchy,” I said.
“Still works for my background.”
I polished off my prosecco. “Do tell.”
“On paper, it looks great,” he said slowly. “Went to Princeton, played tennis. What most people don’t know is that I was the first person in my family to go to college, so yay for an Ivy, but my folks would’ve been just as proud if I’d graduated from a community college.
“My dad was a mechanic and my mom was a hairdresser,” he continued. “Theyworked. They sacrificed for me. The only reason I got into tennis as a kid was my dad. His specialty was classic cars, and one of his regular customers had an old Corvette. Turns out he was the tennis pro at a local golf club, so my dad convinced him to trade lessons for me for repairs. And I guess I had a knack.”
“He was your first coach?”
Owen nodded. “Yeah. I got so lucky with Scott. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be where I am.”
“Where exactly is that?” I asked before I realized that it was a loaded question. But I wanted to know how Owen went from Princeton athlete to pickleball instructor, with a detour for cheesemongering.
“It’s... well, for now it’s where I need to be,” he said in a way that didn’t invite more prying.
“And does that place include a book?”
He let out a soft snort. “You’re relentless.”
“I’m serious! And I think you like the idea, deep down.”
He leaned against a post beside him and stared at me for a beat, a little cliff-hanger. “I do.”
