Page 71 of Pickled
“Men like Gideon don’t end up with women like her,” Izzy said matter-of-factly.
I felt sick. Was this what Piper dealt with every day? Women who smiled to her face, but behind her back treated her like she was a social climbing parasite?
“You’re all being unnecessarily cruel,” Sloane said quietly. “She’s a single mother trying to make a better life for her daughter. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with knowing your place either,” Chelsea replied.
I’d heard enough. I grabbed my glasses and strode through the clubhouse, my mind racing. Piper hadn’t lied because she was manipulative or gold-digging. She’d lied because she was surrounded by people who saw her job before they saw her as a human being.
People like me.
I got in my car and tried to process what I’d just heard but was interrupted by a knock on the window. Had one of those plastic women followed me to the parking lot? I took a deep breath—patience, Gideon—then turned to open the window, but it wasn’t one of the mean girls. It was Judy Lockelhurst, whom I now knew was my real neighbor.
Instead of rolling down the window, I got out of the car and extended my hand. “Mrs. Lockelhurst, I’m Gideon Bailey. I believe I owe you a proper introduction.”
She shook my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her caftan billowed in the warm breeze, and her thin hand felt like a bird’s. Her sharp eyes studied me. “I saw you playing with the lunch ladies. How did that go?”
“‘Eating glass would be more fun.” I still couldn’t believe all the shitty things those women said when they didn’t think anyone was listening.
“That’s about what I would’ve expected.” She slipped her hand into the crook of my arm. “Walk with me for a moment, over to those benches.”
I crooked my arm, and the two of us walked to the bench and sat in silence for a moment, watching golfers tee off on the tenth hole. “I want to talk to you about Piper.” She broke the silence.
“Mrs. Lockelhurst, I don’t think—”
“Judy,” she interrupted. “Do you know why Piper entered that tournament?”
I didn’t answer.
“There’s a spot open in the youth tennis program here at the club. It costs ten thousand dollars a year.” Judy’s voice was gentle but firm. “Her daughter, Olive, has real talent, Gideon. The kind that could take her places her mother never got to go.”
Ten thousand dollars. Half the tournament prize money.
“Piper was ranked in the top fifty junior players in the country when she was eighteen,” Judy continued. “Full scholarship. She was going to go professional.”
“What happened?” I knew that Piper hadn’t finished her program, but I had no idea why.
“She got pregnant with Olive and lost everything. Her scholarship, her tennis future, her family’s support.” Judy’s eyes were sad. “They cut her off completely when she chose to keep the baby.”
The words hit me like a cross-check. “Her family disowned her? What about the father?”
“Completely disowned. The father, I’m not sure. Piper has never shared that with me. She’s spent the last few years cleaning houses and working double shifts to make sure that little girl has everything she needs.” Judy turned to face me. “She sacrificed everything to give that child a life.”
I thought about the care package, and guilt sank into my guts. “That’s terrible, Judy.”
“She doesn’t want pity, Gideon. But she could use a partner who won’t let those vultures dismiss her because of what she does for a living.” Judy nodded toward the clubhouse, where Chelsea and her friends were probably still gossiping. “She’s trying to give her daughter the dream she never got to chase. That’s love.”
“I was an ass,” I said quietly.
“Yes, you were.” Judy didn’t sugarcoat things. It was oddly comforting. “But you can fix it. The question is whether you want to.”
After Judy left, I sat on that bench for another twenty minutes, thinking about everything I’d learned. About Piper’s sacrifice, her dreams, the way she’d protected Olive from a world that judged people by their bank accounts instead of their character.
About the way I’d walked away from her because I’d felt deceived, when what she’d really been doing was protecting something precious.
My phone buzzed. Another text from Owens: Where are you? We’re at your place and The Fridge is about to demolish all the food we brought.
I started the car and headed home, but my mind was already working on a plan. I needed to apologize to Piper.
