“You do not play well, either of you. You’re terrible actually. You don’t even hold the racket correctly, and your serve is weak,” Adele said.
“Excuse me?” Sylvia turned back.
“You play like girls, like delicate little flowers. You hit the ball with no power, with arms like soft spaghetti,” Adele flopped her arms around. “How can you expect to have power and control if you play like that?”
“All right,” Sylvia said, irritated now. “I’m not going to stand here and be insulted in my own club.” She linked her arm through Milly’s and pulled her toward her. “We have to go. And you’re not allowed on this property unless you are a member.”
“May I give you a few tips?” Adele asked, picking up a ball off the ground and not waiting for a response. She took a step back to the baseline, angled her body perpendicular to the net, tossed the ball in front of her, then jumped up to meet it, sending it crosscourt low and fast like a rocket.
“Wow!” Milly perked up and slipped her arm out of Sylvia’s grip. “See, I would really like to be able to do that.”
“I could teach you, for a fee of course,” Adele said, picking up another ball and doing the same serve again. “I could also teach you to keep the ball in play.” She picked up another, tossed it gently in front of her, and sent it down the line, picked up another, jogged to the net, and volleyed it at a tight angle. “No one can get a short ball like that; you would win every time with that angle. Go to the other side of the net.”
Milly immediately ran to the other side and held out her racket. Adele hit a ball in her direction and Milly returned it.
“Turn your shoulders,” Adele said, and Milly hit it back and forth to her several more times.
“Loop your racket back before you swing, and finish over your shoulder,” Adele said and demonstrated, then sent her another ball. This timeMilly returned it straight to Adele, and they rallied for a few miraculous minutes before Adele caught the ball in her left hand and Milly jogged back over.
“That was amazing. I actually hit the ball, a lot of times,” Milly said.
“Well, as I said,” Sylvia chimed in. “Our coaches are…”
“I’ll hire you,” Milly said.
“What?” Sylvia looked from Adele to Milly.
“I’ll hire her. I’ll pay the same rate that Robbie charges.” Milly turned her attention back to Adele. “Look, if you really can teach me how to hit the ball the way you did, then I’d like you to coach me.”
“Hold your horses,” Sylvia said. “You can’t just hire her; she doesn’t even work here.”
“Sylvia.” Milly lowered her voice. She liked Sylvia a lot; she liked her confidence, her charisma; she liked how sociable and inclusive she was, how she was taking Milly under her wing and helping her navigate life on the island. She didn’t want to dismiss her at her husband’s club, but she felt strongly about this. “Those lessons with Robbie were awful. I didn’t learn one thing, except that he would like to sleep with me, even though I made it very clear that I’m married. Look around, the male coaches are too busy coaching the male patrons and don’t seem to want to waste their precious time with us, and when they can, they squeeze us in early in the morning and spend half the time looking at our legs. I want to learn, to really learn, and get good like her.”
“Well, honestly, you’ll never get as good as me,” Adele said. “And you’ll only improve if you put in the work.”
“But you’ll at least teach me what you know?”
“Of course. I will make you a lot better. I can make you both so much better in a few short weeks that soon you will be able to beat your husbands.”
“Yes!” Milly said, exuberantly. “I want to get good really quickly.”
“Then you need to play every day,” Adele said.
“That’s fine,” Milly said, justifying in her head that she could use the money from renting out the guest cottage to pay for her lessons.
Sylvia looked from Milly to Adele and seemed to consider it. “You’d have to pay me twenty percent of your earnings, just like the other coaches,” Sylvia said.
“Fine,” Adele said.
“And we can try it for two weeks and see how it goes,” Sylvia added. “I reserve the right to cancel this arrangement at any time.”
Adele nodded.
Milly felt giddy with excitement. If she could improve, then she hadn’t joined this club for nothing. She’d lost so much of herself since having children; she’d been so swept up in them and their well-being and Lloyd and the house and the move that she’d forgotten about herself, forgotten to care for herself, forgotten who she was, even. She’d grown soft around the middle and soft in the brain. She had nothing exciting to add to the conversation; it was no wonder that Lloyd was looking for excitement elsewhere. Suddenly everything came into focus. She might not have that innate talent she’d hoped for, but she was going to take lessons with this brash French lady, and she was going to get so good at tennis that Lloyd wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off her. She was going to win her husband back—she was sure of it.
