CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ADELE
Adele sat by the telephone and waited with trembling hands. Her local operator had transferred her to a traffic operator, who was now in line for a circuit to reach her mother in France. She’d been told to wait by the phone until a connection could be made, but it could be anytime that day. She made herself a cup of chamomile tea. She’d waited this long; she could wait a few more hours.
She jumped when the phone rang at 11AM, even though she’d been staring at it, and when the operator connected them, there was static and then silence.
“Maman?” Adele said first.
“Adeline?” She sounded old and fragile.
Adele held back tears. “Hi,Maman,” she said, speaking French. “I know it’s been a long time, but”—she hesitated, then forced herself to get out the words that she’d been practicing since the early hours of that morning; she didn’t know how long the line would stay connected—“I wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh, Adeline, you don’t know how much I have longed to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry it’s taken me all this time.” Tears streaked Adele’s cheeks. She let them fall into her lap. “I didn’t think you could forgive me.”
“Forgive you? For what?”
“For Papa and his heart. It gave up after that day.”
“No, my girl.” Her mother let out a quivering sigh on the other end of the line, which shocked Adele, then she heard a younger woman’s voice telling her she was too tired for this conversation, that she needed her rest.
“Please,” Adele said. “Please let her speak.”
“Adeline, it was not your fault. He was a damaged man. He was too forceful, too aggressive, too much for a child, and he realized too late. I would hope that was his greatest regret. It was certainly mine. I thought you blamed me and hated me for what we forced you into. You didn’t tell us where you were. And I thought you didn’t want to hear from me again.”
“Oh,Maman,” Adele said, grasping for the first time that all those years they’d both been alone and apart were needless. They could have been each other’s comfort.
“I miss you,” Adele said.
“I miss you too.”
Adele heard the exhaustion and weariness in her mother’s voice. “Maman, please, can I visit you?”
Her mother gasped and sobbed a little. “Yes. Please, come Adeline, come soon. Nothing would make me happier.”
That afternoon Adele hastily rode her bike to the club and struggled to find a place to park it. Trucks had pulled up in front, and workers were in the process of dismantling the bleachers that had been set up for Saturday’s match.
“I’m late, I’m sorry,” she said as she rushed onto the court where Sylvia and Milly were sitting on the side bench in their tennis gear, looking miserable. They might have been excited at the match on Saturday, but here they were, two days later, and their disappointment was too thick to be concealed.
“You haven’t missed much,” Milly said. “We’re not really in the mood to play.”
“Why?” Adele asked.
Sylvia rolled her eyes and motioned to the courts and the pool. “Well, for one thing, we’re losing the club. After today no more tennis, at least not here.” She sipped her coffee and sighed. “I’ve got to say, I’m really, really going to miss playing with you girls.”
“Yes,” Adele said. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“About tennis?” Sylvia asked.
“About the club. How much did you make from the event?” Adele asked. “There must have been at least seven or eight hundred tickets sold.”
“We had over a thousand people attend, so with the tickets and the advertising and the food and beverage sales and the merchandise, we did well, about twenty thousand in profit.” She shrugged. “Not bad for our first and only big tennis event. But not enough to make a difference. We were several months behind on payments. Walter’s handing everything over to the bank this afternoon. We’re probably not even supposed to be here, but I figured they could give us until the end of the day, at least, so we could stomp around this court one more time.”
Adele nodded, but still no one stood up to play.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen after this,” Sylvia said. “If they’ll keep the club open, or if they’ll try and sell it off right away.” She shook her head. “It’s such a shame, and I feel terrible for all the people, friends, who have active memberships.” She looked to Milly. “Including you.”
