Page 71 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

“I’m not! I’m not!” She frowned. “Can we just go? I’m so hot.”

He turned her around and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He leaned close to her ear, kissed the side of her head, then said, “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

Endy’s eyes opened to the sight of an enormous sign covering the front entrance of the empty building across the street from Costco.

PICKLE NATION

Indoor pickleball facility

Proud sponsor of Picklers Youth Pickleball League

OPENING SOON

Her mouth dropped open, and she screamed, “SHUT UP!” She started jumping up and down with her arms raised over her head, pumping the air with her fists. “Oh my god, Sebastian! Is this yours?”

Sebastian grinned and nodded.

“Yours!”exclaimed Endy. She brought her hands to her cheeks in wonder. “And it’s all pickleball? How many courts? Tell me everything!”

“Yes, and plenty. But see that row of windows?” He pointed to the upper portion of the building. “That’s the most important part.”

“What is that?”

“There’s a live/work loft with a full kitchen, huge bathroom, bedrooms—”

“For who?”

“Well, for me …” Sebastian walked to his car, his limp barely noticeable. He opened the glove compartment and took out a teal-blue box tied with a white satin ribbon, which he then presented to Endy. “And I’d heard you were getting kicked out of your casita and needed someplace to live, so …”

Endy’s eyebrows pulled together. She gently lifted the top off the small box, and nestled inside was a Tiffany key ring.

Sebastian dipped his head and pressed his lips to Endy’s, tenderly kissing her.

“Welcome home, pickleball girl.”

47

It stank. Even from all the way across the street, she could smell the harsh chemicals. A burned rubber odor carried over on the desert breeze. Draining the last sip of Rombauer from her wine glass, she quietly opened the metal gate from her patio and signaled to the dog. He got up from the warm pavers while she secured a leash to his leather collar, as HOA rules dictated.

They crossed onto the grass bordering the asphalt, now painted solid green and separated by two-inch-wide stripes. The reconverted single tennis court looked pristine once again.

Buttoning her cardigan against the evening chill, she gazed far out across the racquet club property to the area where eight new pickleball courts were being built in a previously unused grassy area. The construction crew had just poured the final topcoat, and the odor was still strong.

Barbara Tennyson pulled on Ollie’s leash, and they walked to the bench overlooking the tennis court. Next to it stood a brand-new sign:

Whisper Hills Country Club

Junior Tennis Academy Court

She smiled and sat down on the bench. Barbara withdrew a cloth from her sweater pocket, turned to the back of the bench, and polished the attached plaque.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?”

Barbara turned around as Sloane approached, her hand gesturing out to the tennis court.

“It certainly does,” Barbara replied.

Barbara patted the seat next to her, and Sloane lowered herself into it. Barbara reached out and lightly grasped Sloane’s hand. “Thank you, dear. For helping me make this happen.”

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