“I’ll have a word with Mary-Louise’s mother,” Sylvia said, knowing it was too late for that; the whispers had already begun.
“No, Mom,” she said, the irritation bubbling in her voice. “You’ll just make it worse.”
Before she got ready for the Rendezvous that evening, Sylvia took a ride to the club with Walter. He needed to pick up some paperwork, and Sylvia needed a break from the sight of packing crates and the heartache of deciding what she could fit in the new house and what they’d have to leave behind. She walked through the grounds and shook her head at the empty courts. The pool had a few kids splashing around and a couple of mothers keeping watch nearby, but it was not the picture of a thriving enterprise. On the weekends and early mornings, the courts were relatively full with men playing matches before work and a few taking lessons, but it wasn’t busy enough. It was a beautiful club, Walter had got that right—pristine courts, lush landscaping, clear blue pool, and comfortable spaces to lounge and socialize—but it wasn’t gaining the traction it needed to get off the ground. The Balboa Yacht Club and the Balboa Bay Club, both catering to the watermen in the area, had been around much longer and were more established, so it was hard to compete. Maybe no one needed a tennis club; maybe Walter had miscalculated the numbers needed to succeed.
When she walked toward the last court, thinking she should get back out there to play tennis while she still could—it could help takeher mind off things at home—she heard voices and realized that Milly was taking her daily lesson with Adele. Milly looked good, fast and sporty. She and Adele were rallying back and forth. If Sylvia didn’t know her, she never would have guessed that Milly was so new to the sport. As she rounded the corner, she saw that five or six women were sitting in chairs lined up around the court, with a few more women standing around. They had an audience.
“Hi there, ladies,” Sylvia said. “What’s going on?”
All heads turned toward Sylvia, and she felt the women’s eyes collectively settle on her, uncomfortably, as she approached. Did they all know about the move? Was it possible they could know about Walter’s gambling? For the first time in as long as she could remember, Sylvia wanted to slink away, out of sight. She hated the thought of her beloved friends thinking any less of her or Walter.
“We’re watching the new coach,” Susie said. She and her husband Mitch had been good friends with Sylvia and Walter and early supporters of the club. If these women knew what was going on behind closed doors, then they’d likely be wondering about the future of the club too.
“Where did you find her?” Susie asked. “She’s fantastic.”
“Who, Adele?” Sylvia thought about it for a moment. “She found me, actually. But you’re right, she’s really something. We’re very lucky to have her.” She stood and watched as Milly raced from one side of the court to the next, drops of sweat actually flying from her brow as she leapt for the ball and hit it back to Adele, then sped to the net to catch a short ball that dropped in just before her reach.
The ladies watching broke into applause, despite the fact that Milly didn’t make that last ball.
“What a point,” Susie called out.
“Fantastic,” said another.
Milly and Adele looked over to the small crowd that had formed.
“Oh, you guys,” Milly said, swatting the air. “Don’t exaggerate.” She laughed and poured a tall glass of water from the pitcher.
“That was magnificent, Milly,” Joan called out, clapping.
When the applause settled down, Sylvia could have sworn she saw a couple of the women glance back to her, then murmur something to one another before looking back to the court. But maybe she was just on edge. She stood back and tried to shake free of her insecurities. She had always prided herself on her confidence. She observed how the women were enraptured by Milly—still mediocre by all accounts, but she had improved greatly in just a few lessons—and more so by Adele, who seemed wonderfully skilled at explaining to Milly how to move, how to swing, how to angle the racket. More than anything, though, Adele had taught Milly how to fall in love with this sport. It was clear as day that despite the troubles that Milly was having at home, and there was obviously something going on there, she was thoroughly enjoying herself on the court, and Sylvia admired her for that.
She looked from Milly to Adele and could feel the beginning of something forming in her mind, the wheels spinning, the idea solidifying. Maybe this was her ticket. The ladies hadn’t been given a chance to succeed at tennis with the likes of Robbie and his counterparts, with their off-color remarks and their gross underestimation of their potential. But Adele could help them, and help Sylvia at the same time.
She waited for the lesson to end, then rushed onto the court, energized by her ideas.
“Ladies,” she said excitedly, “you both looked great out here. Did you see you had an audience?”
Milly was dabbing her face with a towel, and Adele was packing her racket and balls into her bag.
“I have great news,” Sylvia went on. “I’m going to run an ad in the local paper and maybe even theRegistertoo—I know the publisher—and I’m going to advertise tennis for women, by women.” She ran her hand across the space in front of her as if she could envision the headline. “And we’ll run a picture of you, Adele, or maybe even the two of you training together.”
“No,” Adele said abruptly. “Absolutely not!”
“Yes!” Sylvia insisted. “It will be great. No other club is doing this.” She turned to Milly. “You said yourself the male coaches cater to the male patrons. This will be new and different. It could attract a lot of new members, and Adele, you’ll be the star attraction.”
“I said no,” Adele growled. “I don’t want my picture in the paper, not now, not ever, and I do not want to be the attraction.”
Sylvia looked at her stunned, baffled. How could she just shut down this idea, this brilliant idea that could potentially help with some of their financial troubles if it took off? “Look, Adele,” Sylvia said. “I took a chance on you; I hired you when you needed a job, and we have a chance to turn it into something big.”
“Big is the last thing I want,” Adele said, turning to leave. “As you pointed out, I already had my picture in the paper, and I don’t want it to happen again.”
Sylvia grabbed her arm. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but I’m in a tough situation here, very tough. If I don’t figure something out fast, I don’t even know if this club will be open two weeks from today.”
Adele hesitated, then shook her arm free.
“Is it that bad?” Milly asked. “What about the dues I just paid?”
“That’s why I’m trying to keep it afloat,” Sylvia said, desperation rising in her voice. “So I’m begging you to help me, Adele, otherwise you won’t even have a place to coach.”
Adele glared at her. “I’ll coach more women. Tell your members, tell those women who were watching us, that I’ll coach them all day long if that will help, but I do not want my picture in the paper. I do not want the attention on me.”
“But why?” Sylvia asked. “You’re so good at what you do.”
Adele shook her head. “There are things in my past that I am not proud of. I live a private life for a reason, and if you knew about it, believe me, you wouldn’t want to advertise it either.”
Sylvia watched her, wondering if she could press her for more. What kinds of things was she talking about? Should she be worried about who she’d brought into the club? Was she some kind of criminal? Alarm bellsstarted ringing in her head, but Sylvia had to ignore them for now. She needed this, she needed her, she didn’t know what else to do.
Adele zipped up her bag. “I will try to help you, Sylvia, but if you put my picture in the paper, it’s over. I won’t set foot on this court again.”
