Page 90 of Pickled
Ace ran his hands through his hair. “They’ve been hooking up. For months, apparently. Maybe longer.”
I nearly choked on my beer. “Mel the realtor and Coach? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I found out by accident when I was down here. I saw them together, looking very cozy.”
“Holy shit. Does Goldie know?”
“That’s the problem. She does now. I told her, thinking she’d be upset about it. Thinking we’d be dealing with drama about her best friend dating her father.”
“And?”
“She’s not upset about them being together. She’s upset that they didn’t tell her. Apparently, she’s been trying to set her dad up with someone for years, and she thinks Mel is perfect for him.”
I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. “So let me get this straight. You thought you were delivering bad news, but actually, Goldie’s mad because her best friend and her dad didn’t trust her enough to tell her they were dating?”
“That’s exactly what happened. She feels stupid for not seeing the signs, hurt that they didn’t trust her, and now she’s not speaking to either of them. I mean, I’m surprised she didn’t see it either, but again, the whole people-you-love thing. Mel forgot her hat in Coach’s bedroom, for God’s sake.”
“And you’re caught in the middle.”
“Yep.” Ace picked at his fries. “I had to get out of town. The man is my father-in-law, but he’s also still my coach.”
“That sucks, man. But it sounds like something they need to work out among themselves. And wait, Mel would be your what…stepmother-in-law?” I shook my head. She was younger than Ace.
“I know. It’s just hard watching Goldie beat herself up over missing the clues. She keeps saying she should have known, should have seen it coming.”
I thought about my own situation with Piper. “Sometimes we miss things because we’re too close to them. Or because we’re not looking in the right place.”
“Very philosophical, Dr. Bailey.”
“I’m serious. A few months ago, I thought I had my whole life figured out. Hockey was everything, relationships were temporary distractions, and I didn’t need anyone else to be happy.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m playing pickleball every day with my neighbor and her five-year-old daughter, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Ace studied my face. “You seem eally happy. I see it.”
“Yeah. I really am.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Hey, maybe you can help us think of a team name. We need one for the tournament.”
“A team name? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something clever. All the teams have names.”
Ace’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas. How about Deez Nets?”
I groaned. “Absolutely not.”
“Dill Picklers?”
“Better, but still no.”
“Significant Dinkage?” He grinned. “It works on multiple levels.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Dinking Problem? Day Dinking?”
Despite myself, I was laughing. “These are terrible.”
