Page 43 of The Heiress
“Thank you,” I said, approaching the net, needing to revel in the moment. And to rest. “That felt like it came straight out of the middle of the racket.”
“That’s because it did,” Taylor said graciously. “You’re doing great. You’re going to be back on court in no time.”
“I’m aiming for the spring tryouts,” I admitted shyly.
“Without a doubt,” Taylor said. “Hey, you know there’s a Christmas tournament at the Country Club?”
Of course I knew. Last year Max and I won the mens doubles title, though it was a fundraiser, not a serious tournament.
“Well, do you need an incentive?” Taylor prompted.
“What? Won’t you be playing with Max?”
Taylor shrugged. “Think about it. Apparently it’s a lot of fun.” She bounced a ball up on her strings and said, “Another rally? Then I should get going.”
I hurried back to the baseline just as Mom and Elisha appeared on the patio, Mom calling out, “Breakfast is ready in five!”
I could see Taylor’s shock at seeing Elisha, dressed in blue jeans and a pale pink sweater, standing next to Mom. She looked nice, pink looked good on her. Being down opposite ends of the court, there was no way I could explain the situation, and to her credit, Taylor served the ball without delay.
When the rally ended, I noticed Mom had disappeared back inside, but Elisha hadn’t moved. Taylor served again, out wide which forced me to take quick steps to reach the ball. There was no way I would be aced, especially with Elisha watching. I flicked the ball back cross court beginning a backhand to backhand rally. I was patient, trying to hit the ball as deep as I could, pushing Taylor back behind the baseline. When her next shot looped high, I ran forward and smashed the ball away for a winner.
It was exhilarating—those were the moments I lived for, moments I sorely missed.
Taylor responded with a wry smile, but applauded by tapping on the strings of her racket. She jogged over to retrieve the ball, stopping next to Elisha on the sideline, where Mom had reappeared. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, slowly walking to the ball cart to get my jacket before grabbing my towel by the net.
The three of them were in a full blown conversation, which stopped when I arrived.
“What was that?” Taylor said, folding her arms across her chest, her eyebrows raising with subtlety in Elisha’s direction. “Trying to impress someone, were we?”
“What?” I defended, heat searing my cheeks at her blatant implication. Yeah, it didn’t go unnoticed that both Taylor and Mom turned to Elisha with ridiculous smiles on their faces. “Your ball was short, Tay. It was asking to be put away!”
All three of them laughed as if in the last sixty seconds they’d all become friends.
“Hey, that was fun,” Taylor said, holding up her hand for a high five, maybe an attempt to diffuse my embarrassment. “You’re doing great, Phoenix.”
“Yeah, it was awesome,” I said, our hands slapping, “thanks for coming over.”
“Any time,” Taylor said. “But I should get going.”
“Come in for some breakfast first, Taylor,” Mom insisted. “I’ve got everything ready.”
“I’ll just help pick up the balls,” Taylor said, but Elisha jumped in. Like literally stepped out onto the court, and said, “I’ll do it.” And she smiled sweetly at Taylor. “You go.”
“Come and watch me later,” Taylor called as she stuffed her racket into her bag and was whisked away by Mom.
Elisha strode over to the cart. I watched in a mesmerized state as her sweater rode up when she bent down to scoop some balls into her arms. She dropped them into the cart and pushed it across to another pile of balls. In the meantime, I hadn’t moved. Stuck in concrete, my heart galloped for a multitude of reasons; her blond hair flowing over her shoulders, her figure hugging jeans and the way she was doing my job—picking up the balls. An image of Mrs. Liu’s stern face came to mind—You hit the balls, you pick them up!As if she was standing beside me, I sprung into action. Well, not exactly, because as I crouched down, a ping of discomfort struck my groin. I gingerly stood and took a tentative step, relieved that I didn’t collapse.
“I can finish this,” Elisha called from across the net, a flick of her head telling me she was in control. “Go and have breakfast.”
If I wasn’t worried about the potential injury, I would never have left Elisha on her own, but I was panicking that I’d overdone it. It would be my own fault, Taylor’s words stinging—who knows why I felt the need to show off in front of Elisha. Not after she’d made it clear she preferred her own company to mine.
Going to my bedroom, I stretched in private, testing out the muscle. Maybe I’d worried for nothing, but to be on the safe side I rubbed on an anti-inflammatory cream.
After Taylor left, Elisha helped Mom tidy up the breakfast table while I finished the plate of waffles. Mom seemed to be doing a lot of instructing on how to load the dishwasher, like Elisha had never done it before.
“Are you going to watch Taylor play, Phoe?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, I think I will,” I said, but anxiety crept in. I wanted to watch Taylor play for sure. She was competing in a friendly women’s interclub competition organized with the rival club of St. Helen’s. A trophy was at stake, which St. Helen’s currently held. Taylor was intent on winning it back for the club. But being back at the courts would mean answering a ton of questions. People would ask how I was doing, when I’d start playing again, would I be ready for the spring season?
