“Unlike your grandmother, I will take the compliment.”
“That’s because you know you’re lucky to get one,” growled Ugo from the courtside benches, piled high with racket bags and towels. He chuckled and stuffed two tennis balls into his pockets.
“Only compliment me if I play well!” said Graziella, turning her face back up to Ellie.
“I don’t know if I’ll know the difference,” said Ellie, shrugging.
“Oh, you’ll be able to tell.” Simone raised his eyebrows. “She’s a little fiery when she makes an error,” he mock-whispered behind his hand. Graziella folded her arms and glowered at him, pretending to be offended.
“Must run in the family.”
The hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck stood up. She turned around to see Cris walking toward her, grinning from under a mop of damp hair and sunglasses. Ellie narrowed her eyes at his comment.
“What? Your dad is the same way.Ciao, tutti!” Cris called down to the court.
“Ciao,Cristiano! Wow! We have a real audience!” Graziella said, smiling.
“Ragazzi,are we ready? It’s four minutes past,” Renata interrupted, making arm circles in a light-pink tennis dress. “I am going to get creaky if we stand around much longer.”
“You’re creaky anyway,” said Ugo. Renata scowled. “But I love your creaks.”
“You see what I have to put up with after sixty-two years?” Renata pointed to Ugo. “Are you two sure about this wedding?”
“Already paid for the suit!” yelled Simone. “Who’s got the ball first?”
“Hey,” Cris said, ducking his head into Ellie’s line of vision. “Are you here?”
“Sorry, yes. I get a little bit distracted sometimes.”
“It’s hard not to.” He smiled, nodding at the court. “Do you want to sit?
“Sure,” she said, pulling out a chair at one of the small tables. “I had to write some new questions. But first I want to tell you something.”
“Volete qualcosa?” the café waitress asked as she passed by. Cris ordered a coffee and raised an eyebrow in Ellie’s direction.
“No, grazie,” Ellie said directly to the waitress.
“Ah! Caspita!” Graziella yelled out from the court below. Ellie watched her shot sail right into the net.
She took out her notebook. “We have gone over a lot of information, and the format of the show is taking shape. But I would like to be honest with you about one small detail.” Ellie paused, watching his eyebrows rise. “I am actually not sure that I still have a show.”
“Um—” he started, leaning forward, “that’s asmalldetail?”
“I mean, I think everything is going to be okay, but I had a bit of an unfortunate encounter with a hot mic right after a guest left my last episode of the season.” She didn’t want to wince. She knew she was wincing.
“Meaning…”
“Meaning I kind of overshared with my producer my thoughts on some of my guests, and it didn’t go over well.” She bit her lower lip.
“But you still have the show?”
“Itheoreticallystill have the show.” Though she wasn’t sure if sheshouldstill have a show. “I’m not willing to give up on it. It means something to me, and I think I can fix it.”
“I see,” he said. “So it would probably help you to get someone who never does interviews anywhere and has a bit of a record to set straight. Maybe a big score will make people forget about your little mishap?”
“Maybe. And maybe that person will be able to convince people that he deserves to sail off into retirement, scandal-free, since the notoriously prickly Dr. Beltrami couldn’t seem to find major holes in his story,” Ellie said, rolling her pen between her fingers.
“A mutually beneficial relationship,” he smiled.
