Page 41

T he morning dawned just as predicted with the California desert sun shining brightly. The scent of cut grass hung in the air, and families of ducks paddled in the club ponds. In a great mood, Endy admired the sign propped in front of the folding table they were using for registration.

Whisper Hills Country Club

Picklers Youth Pickleball fundraiser

Thank you for joining us!

White tents already bookended the table, where parents of the youth players set up drink stations—one with beer, wine, and hard seltzers, the other with nonalcoholic lemonade, iced tea, and bottled water.

A ping-pong table waited steps away, across from groups of Adirondack chairs circled around portable propane fire pits.

Navy-blue canvas patio umbrellas provided shade, and a sound system with two huge speakers on stands already blared upbeat pop music.

“Where should I put these?” asked Valentina, holding an armload of T-shirts.

“You can bring them over to the registration table,” answered Endy. “While you’re there, go ahead and check Paco in because we’ll be starting matches soon.”

“Oh, we checked him in already. He’s so excited for this—it’s the first Saturday that he actually got himself out of bed and ready to go. He even got me up a half hour early because he said he wouldn’t be late because of me.”

“He knows us well,” Endy replied with a wry smile.

Valentina put her hand on Endy’s arm. “Thank you for this … for Picklers. I don’t know what we would have done with Paco if he didn’t have this group.”

Endy pulled Valentina into her arms and hugged her hard. “And for me, too. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have Picklers.”

Valentina’s eyebrows drew together. “I really hope you’re able to keep the program going.”

Endy shrugged and sighed, “Anything can happen, right?”

Valentina nodded. “Anything can happen.”

The regular Whisper Hills group of pickleball players milled about, an undulating sea of various shades of gray and white hair atop smiling wrinkled faces.

The news traveled fast within the group of old retirees, and they were well aware of the formal complaint submitted to the board of directors.

All of them came out in support of Picklers, and also to embrace the possible last days of pickleball at Whisper Hills.

Endy mixed between the groups, pausing to hug and thank them for coming.

She stopped beside The Grands, who couldn’t resist hugging her longer than necessary.

A plump woman with gray hair tucked under a hot-pink bucket hat laughed with Candi and Earlene while Nora flirted with a well-toned, very tan, older man with a full head of white hair combed back in a ponytail.

“Hi there,” said Endy, approaching with her hand outstretched. “I haven’t met you yet. Are you Inez, the one who called and signed up yesterday?”

“No, no, I’m Sharon,” she replied. “Candi’s sister from Oregon. I’m just visiting and cheering her on. And to be honest, this whole pickleball sport looks like a ton of fun. I’m thinking about taking one of your clinics.” She smiled.

Candi elbowed her sister. “Shush! I told you that our pickleball program here at the club may get shut down. Don’t make Endy feel any worse about it!”

Sharon colored and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” replied Endy. “We’re just going to keep going until we hear that we can’t anymore.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sharon said. “Goodness sakes, why would they even consider shutting down pickle—”

“PICKLEBALL IS LIFE!” yelled George Jacobs as he pushed into the tent, navigating a stroller containing three yapping black and brown Chihuahuas. “Hoody hoo!”

The many Whisper Hills members loudly cheered in response, sending the Chihuahuas into a frenzy inside the stroller, causing it to tip over.

Dumped from their enclosure, the dogs quickly darted away, weaving in and out of the legs of the crowd and causing a gray-haired man to tip back into the table holding bins of bright green plastic balls, which then scattered throughout the tent and rolled down and out across the lawn.

Choking back a laugh, Endy shook her head. “I have no idea why.”

Endy picked up a clipboard and scanned the names. The ten late registrants had yet to arrive and pay their entry fee, which made Endy nervous.

“Maria, do you think everyone is here?”

“Yeah, everyone’s here.”

Endy scanned the crowd in the tent. “But what about that senior player who signed up late yesterday?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” said Maria as she sipped a white-peach-flavored energy drink.

“You know, the lady who is bringing four of her friends,” reminded Endy. “Her name is Inez.”

“Yeah, I told you they’re here. They just have to pay.”

Endy pulled out her phone from her pocket to check the time. Matches were set to start in a half hour and if the late registrants weren’t ready, some of the Picklers kids would be left waiting on the courts. It would be a horrible way to start the fundraiser. Endy gnawed at her thumbnail.

“Next!” Maria hollered. She crooked her finger at a tall twenty-something woman with two knotted braids on top of her head and huge square mirrored sunglasses obscuring most of her face. Her lips glimmered with gloss, and the scent of coconut sunblock hung in the air.

“Hey, you guys ready?” asked Maria.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” she said and turned to the four girls behind her. Wearing vivid-colored cropped tank tops and short-short skirts, they smiled wide with their full lips outlined in bright shades that matched their clothing. She called out, “Morgan, come up here!”

A young woman with a long blond braid hanging almost to her waist put her quilted backpack on the ground, dug through the interior, then pulled out a soft leather wallet. She approached the registration table.

“This is for me, Morgan,” she said, patting her chest. She withdrew two $100 bills, but as if on second thought, took out another $100 bill and handed all of them to Maria. “Go ahead and keep the rest as a donation for the kids’ group.”

“Wow, that’s super generous. Thanks,” said Maria, tucking the bills into the cash box. She looked up at the other three girls standing behind Morgan. “You gals ready too?” Nodding, they approached the table holding their wallets, still laughing and chatting.

The noise in the tent amplified as five handsome and fit young men walked up behind the stunning girls, eliciting high-pitched screams and claps.

Pickleball paddles were laid down next to their colorful tote bags. Sweaters and pullovers with various logos made of penguins, horses, and alligators were tossed onto empty chairs. They all hugged each other, and everyone spoke at the same time, their words and laughter mixed together.

Bewildered, Endy gazed out at the group who were falling over each other like adorable kittens in a litter. Who were these people, and where did they come from?

“Okay …” Maria took the clipboard from Endy and crossed off ten names. “So with Sebastian’s friends’ registrations—”

Endy grabbed the clipboard back from Maria. “What are you talking about … Sebastian’s friends? What? ”

“Sebastian’s ten friends who signed up for this fundraiser.” Maria held her arms out wide, gesturing to the crowd of attractive players in front of them. “This crew.”

“Wha—”

“I told you that someone named Inez had a group she was bringing. And there were five others who signed up late too.”

“Yeah, but …” Endy hesitated.

“But what?” Maria slapped at Endy’s arm, then pointed to the gorgeous girl with the knotted braids. “ That’s Inez. And those hot guys, they’re all Sebastian’s friends, too.”

Sebastian himself came walking up, clearly stoked to see this crowd. “Hey, losers!” he called out at the group of five buff and handsome guys crowded next to the five fit and gorgeous girls. Greeting squeals of affection rang out as the group saw Sebastian stride into the tent.

“I can’t believe you’re all here,” exclaimed Sebastian.

“This is so much fun!” Inez rushed up and wrapped Sebastian in a hug. “I’ve been playing, like, all the time at the pickleball center in Santa Monica.”

“You have? Pickleball?” asked Sebastian, his eyebrows raised high.

“Yeah, haven’t you heard that pickleball’s the shit right now?” interrupted a tall, light-haired guy standing next to Inez. He approached Sebastian with a wide smile.

“Wes!” cheered Sebastian. “You’re here! I thought you had a tournament this weekend.”

Wes tapped his pickleball paddle against the heel of his hand. “I do, but coincidentally, my tournament is being held at Indian Wells. I’m just here to check things out before I head over to play. Gotta support you, bro.”

Sebastian closed his fist and tapped knuckles with Wes, then he pulled back and looked Wes head to toe. He grinned. “I still can’t believe you’re a pro.” He lightly slapped the side of Wes’s head. “I guess pickleball will take anybody .”

“You should talk.” Wes laughed. “You’re the one who invited us all to a pickleball— not tennis —fundraiser.”

Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. “Can you believe it’s not tennis?”

Wes searched the crowd. “Speaking of tennis … doesn’t Sloane have some kids’ thing at this club too?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian pulled Wes away from the pandemonium of their friends. “She came in and set up a pretty big-deal junior tennis academy here.”

Wes lowered his sunglasses and looked over the top. “So where is the girlfriend?”

“Come on, Wes,” sighed Sebastian. “You know Sloane isn’t my girlfriend anymore. I don’t know where she is.”

“But she told everyone that you guys were getting back together,” said Wes.

Sebastian scowled. “We were over a long time ago. We are not getting back together.”

“Huh.” Wes slid a glance to Sebastian. “So, would it be okay by you if I ask Sloane to hang out sometime?”

“Oh my god, yeah, of course. Go right ahead. I keep telling you guys that Sloane and I are over and done with,” Sebastian said, throwing his hands in the air. He ducked his head. “Besides … I’m hung up on someone else.”

“Reallllly,” Wes asked with a wolfish grin. “Who is it? Did she play Division I?”

“No, no, not tennis. She’s a pickleball girl,” Sebastian said and shook his head.

Wes’s eyebrows raised high. “Do I know her?”

Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets and craned his head around to the registration table where Endy stood with Maria. Wes followed Sebastian’s gaze.

“So wait, have you been seeing the girl with the long dark hair over there? The one who’s in charge?” asked Wes, pointing his thumb toward the table.

“Yep, that’s the one.” Sebastian nodded, looking at Endy, who gnawed at a pen as she studied the clipboard in her hand.

“Bro, you should have locked that down a long time ago,” Wes exclaimed. “How’d you screw that up?”

Sebastian recounted what had caused the rift between him and Endy, starting with Sloane blowing into Whisper Hills and ending with his grandmother’s grievance.

Wes rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, all of that sucks, but you gotta do something to get her back.”

“I’m trying. Having all you guys here at the fundraiser has brought in a lot of money, so that helps out a ton.”

“Well, if there’s something else we can do, just ask. It’d be great if one of us actually got into a healthy relationship.” Wes laughed. “Anything can happen, right?”

Sebastian grinned at hearing one of Endy’s favorite sayings. He nodded and crossed his fingers. “Yep, anything can happen.”

The atmosphere inside the tent changed as the crowd started moving out onto the lawn and pathways leading to the pickleball courts. A sense of excitement hung in the air, the players buzzing with energy.

“Hope you do great on the tour this year,” Sebastian said, wrapping his arm around Wes’s neck and pulling him into a big hug. “Hit me up when you’re done playing this weekend. I have some things to talk with you about that I think you’ll find interesting.”