Page 10 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

“I’m so sorry. I’m late and—” Her cell phone dinged with an incoming text from Maria:

WHERE R U??? KIDS R RIOTING

“The shop is actually closed, and I’m late. I’m so sorry,” she stammered, tripping over her words. “I’m late.”

Looking thoughtful, he rubbed his smooth chin, the gesture sending shivers along Endy’s arms. Why was it that when incredibly handsome men rubbed their chins, it made women feel faint?

“Can you come back tomorrow morning? We open at seven o’clock,” she choked out.

He looked at her from the side of his eyes. “Sure, tomorrow,” he replied. He flashed the same smile he had earlier, the sexy, crooked one that had her tummy all aflutter. “It’s a date.” He took a step back as Endy pulled the door shut.

She could feel his eyes on her as she locked the door behind her. She smoothed back her hair and couldn’t help but tug her tennis skirt farther down her slender hips. Jogging away, Endy was very aware that the extremely attractive guy standing under the pro shop awning was still watching her as she disappeared around the corner.

6

They really were rioting, or so it seemed to Endy when she finally got to the pickleball courts. Kids ran around the close-clipped lawn, chasing, screaming, and throwing balls at each other. Others crowded around a cell phone watching a TikTok dance video, with a couple of kids attempting to copy it but instead looking like they were being delivered electrical shocks.

Endy slid a look to Maria. “You couldn’t have gotten them started?”

“I’m just here covering for you,mi reina,my queen. I told you not to answer that call,” she replied, swatting at the air. “This completely nutty mess is yours, not mine.”

“You’re right, Maria.” Endy burst out laughing and twirled around with her arms in the air. “This big, beautiful, nutty mess is mine.”

When Endy had arrived in the Coachella Valley two years prior, pickleball was still fairly new. But the new sport had seduced plenty of players and fans, and it quickly exploded in popularity, especially among the Boomers and Gen Xers who lived in the desert area.

Sensing an opportunity that did not previously exist for younger generations, Endy put together a plan for a Palm Springs youth pickleball program for kids eighteen and under. Maria told her aunt, a principal at one of the Palm Springs public schools, about Endy’s plan. And it turned out that the school actually needed an extracurricular program for kids who didn’t have after-school opportunities, didn’t fit in with traditional sports clubs, or couldn’t afford private sports lessons.

Endy’s plan would take a couple of years to establish, while relying on Whisper Hills Country Club as a host and sponsor. It would introduce pickleball to the kids and their parents and raise Whisper Hills’ profile in the local community. And at the end of the two years, Endy would hand the school a fully formed after-school pickleball program.

She’d presented the idea to Joel, who then suggested it to Daniel York. Almost immediately, her introductory pickleball program was adopted. Whisper Hills had given her a two-year monetary fund for snacks and drinks, paddles and balls, and also donated their courts for the period.

She called it Picklers Youth Pickleball League. And it was a hit.

Everywhere she went, someone would inevitably stop her and tell her how much their child loved Picklers. Mothers would get out of their cars during pickup, run over to Endy, and hug her hard, sometimes bringing her Tupperware containers filled with home-cooked meals. Even most of the staff around Whisper Hills knew that Endy ran the program and would call out to her and wave when they’d roll past the courts full of kids in the afternoons.

Endy made sure the program was free to all kids, and in the couple of years since she started Picklers, it had grown from six kids to sixty, a certifiable success.

Two years had gone by quickly, and Joel had approached Endy, wanting to discuss the Picklers’ initial term expiring. They’d sat in the shade on the pro shop’s patio, overlooking Stadium Court and the beautiful, deep-green grass croquet courts.

“Daniel wanted me to tell you congratulations on the success of Picklers,” said Joel, taking a sip of his mixed berry acai smoothie.

Endy smiled. “Thanks … I can’t wait to see what we do these next couple of years.”

Joel’s eyebrows drew together over his mirrored aviator sunglasses. “Next couple of years?” He frowned. “Endy, did you forget that the club only agreed for two years?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten, but—”

“The school is supposed to take it over in a couple of months,” Joel reminded her.

“I know, but Maria’s aunt was hoping Whisper Hills could keep it going. She said that with the cuts in the after-school programming budget, there is no way the school can pay for Picklers.”

“I was just at the club’s annual budget meetings, and well, neither can we,” replied Joel. “Picklers isn’t in the budget for the future.”

“Dammit!” grumbled Endy. “Joel, do you think I can change Daniel’s mind … have him go back over the budget and put Picklers back in?”

“I doubt it, Endy. Daniel had actually allocated Picklers around $25,000 for the past two years,” replied Joel. “That’s a lot of money. Especially for a program that you’re supposed to hand over to a public school.”

Endy frowned, crestfallen. “Well, the school can’t come up with that kind of money either.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh nooo … Does that mean this will be the end of Picklers?”

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