Page 5 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

“Well, noteverything,” said Joel. “I don’t know who’s allowing their dog to crap on the courts, but it’s disgusting.”

“Remember when someone kept leaving their bagel and cream cheese by the patio workout area?” asked Endy. “And no one found it until it started smelling and was covered in all those ants?”

“It turned out to be Mrs. Davis. She thought she’d finish the bagel after her workout, but always forgot about it,” Maria said.

“I mean, shewaseighty-seven.”

Maria nodded, agreeing with Endy. “And then there was that time that someone kept collecting all the lemons that dropped from the fruit trees and kept them in that cardboard box by the ice machine, and the whole thing turned into a fermented mush,” said Maria.

“Maria,” replied Endy. “That was you.”

Maria looked chastened. “I was going to make preserved lemons to sell at the farmers’ market.”

“Again, disgusting,” said Joel.

“Maybe it’s like an old dog that has trouble going poo, and it can only do it in a specific spot. Mytiahad a little Chihuahua that had to turn around three times and face north before it would actually go.”

Hearing this, Endy stopped and slowly cocked her eyebrow at Maria.

Maria shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe that was mytiowho had to do that—I can’t really remember. I’ll call her later and ask.”

The door to the pro shop opened, and in came a few groups of players that had just come off their courts. Club members called out to one another, gathering around the café tables, and the volume in the pro shop rose. The deafening whir of a smoothie blender competed with the TVs mounted high above the counters, combined with a heated debate over the benefits of hat versus visor.

Endy stood in front of the wall of windows with a smile, the radiant sunlight warming her back.

“Just get one of both,” she called out to the women contemplating the hat display. “Members get twenty percent off merch.”

Behind the desk, Maria nodded at Endy and tapped her temple.Smart,she mouthed over the loud music playing from the wall speakers, while the women approached the desk carrying two hats and two visors.

Endy moved away from the windows and weaved between the half dozen tables sprinkled throughout the pro shop café, stopping next to a group of older, gray-haired men, their pickleball paddles piled on the table. One had a look of concentration across his face as he sucked at his teeth with his tongue.

“Why do they call these smoothies when they’re anything but? They should be called crunchy drinks,” said George Jacobs. He pulled his lips open and bared his teeth. “Do I have anything in my teeth?”

Endy choked back a laugh when she saw the bunches of tiny chia seeds sprinkled throughout George’s smile. She slid a napkin across the table. “Maybe just a little, George,” she replied. “But just make sure to drink it all up because those smoothies have lots of potassium, which will help with your leg cramps.”

“Something’s got to help,” George said. “Last night, I woke Dawn up twice when I had to jump out of bed—”

“Not a picture I want in my head,” interrupted another senior man at the table. “We all know you sleep in the nude.” The whir of the blender started up again.

“Sucks getting older, George.” Endy patted him on the shoulder as she turned to go. “Say hi to Dawn for me,” she said over her shoulder, walking away. “And give kisses to those three Chihuahuas of yours, too.”

“I’m not kissing those monsters,” George called over the din. “Last time I tried, one of them almost bit my lips off.”

Endy giggled and then retreated, heading for her office.

Standing beside the door, a threesome of older ladies, whom everyone called The Grands, bent over a shopping bag they had propped under the plaque that read:

ENDY ANDREWS

Assistant Director of Racquet Sports

Whisper Hills Country Club

“You ladies looking for me?” asked Endy as she came up behind them, causing one to jump.

“Jeez, Endy, you frightened me!” exclaimed Earlene, her eyes wide and her hand on her chest. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“—again,” said Nora.

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