by Nancy Star
The doors reopened on Zaxtec’s floor. Sondra stepped inside. “Back so soon?”
“I forgot to say how much I enjoyed working with you,” Annie said.
“Cool. Thanks. You know,” Sondra said, her dimples deepening, “we are very similar. I feel like you’re my older sister or my aunt. My really smart aunt.”
She stared at Annie’s eye. “Oh my God! You have a twitch! I do too! Can you see it?” She pointed to her eye.
Annie shook her head. “No. Sorry.”
“It’s so frustrating,” Sondra said. “No one can ever see it.”
They rode the rest of the way to the lobby in silence.
Eighteen
Winslow glanced out the window at the rolling hills. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Vicki stared ahead, her eyes narrowing into an angry squint.
“Come on, now,” Winslow said. “It’s not my fault Betty’s Apple Farm closed down, is it? I couldn’t know that, could I?”
Vicki’s mouth remained a flat line.
“It is a pity I didn’t know Betty Apple was selling her farm. It would have been a perfect location for our second Soccer-Plex, don’t you think?” The word our didn’t come easily from Winslow’s lips, but when it did, it always worked.
“Her name isn’t Betty Apple,” Vicki snapped. “And you should have called to confirm.”
“I must say I’m disappointed in Parker,” Winslow went on. “He’s supposed to be looking for just these opportunities. I don’t like missing opportunities simply because I don’t know they exist.”
“You confirm your soccer games a hundred times a day,” Vicki said. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t make one phone call to confirm that the apple farm was open.”
It wasn’t easy to tune Vicki out, but he managed. As she droned on, her voice a low hum, he surveyed the landscape. It really was a perfect location for his next Plex. Surely, in a place like this, there would be dozens of salt-of-the-earth people. People like him. People who understood the values of soccer. Commitment. Excellence. Sacrifice.
It might be worth it to pay someone a small stipend to keep his eyes open for the perfect parcel of land here. Winslow wouldn’t have to pay much—a token, really.
“Because going on a scouting trip is not my idea of how to spend my birthday,” Vicki said. “Dinah and I could have had a very nice day out together. We could have had lunch.”
“Lunch?” Winslow said. “Didn’t you eat when we stopped at the Burger King?”
“That was a bathroom stop,” Vicki said. “Not a birthday stop. You could at least have found out if there was a halfway decent restaurant in Chestnut Heights before you dragged us out here.”
“Why did you drag us out here, Daddy?” Dinah piped up from the backseat.
“Good God. I didn’t drag anyone anywhere,” Winslow protested. “We were supposed to go apple picking. The apple farm was sold. Instead we’re going to stop by and visit one of my old friends. Is that really so awful?”
“What’s the name of the girl?” Vicki asked.
“Did you get a chance to order the warm-ups yesterday?” Winslow countered. It had been another of his brilliant ideas, giving Vicki the store to manage. She’d be happier this way, even if she didn’t know it yet.
“What’s the girl’s name?” Vicki asked again.
He tightened his grip on the wheel. “If you don’t place the order for the warm-ups by Sunday, we won’t have them for the opening. And the photograph will be so much more impressive if the girls are in matching warm-ups, don’t you think?”
“Tell me the name of the girl we’re going to see or there’ll be no warm-ups,” Vicki said.
Winslow wondered whether the store might be too much to put on one person’s plate. Maybe he should have Parker work in the store too.
“Who is the girl, Daddy?” Dinah asked.
“There is no girl. We’re going to stop and say hello to my old friend George. George and I grew up together. He’s a gym teacher now.” Winslow laughed at that.
“There’s nothing funny about being a gym teacher,” Vicki snapped. “My father was an amazing influence on all his students.”
Winslow made a feeble effort to mask his disdain. “Yes, I know. They all came to his funeral and it was lovely.”
“So many people came to pay their respects they couldn’t fit in the room. They waited outside,” Vicki reminded him.
“Yes, darling,” Winslow said. “I know.”
“In the rain,” Vicki said.
“Don’t forget the cold,” Winslow added. “It was a cold rain, wasn’t it?”
Vicki didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “How old is the girl?”
Winslow motioned with his head toward the backseat. He didn’t approve of discussing team business in front of Dinah. “Let’s talk about it later, shall we?”
Vicki swung around to face her daughter. “Ask Daddy the name of the girl we’re going to see.”
Winslow steadied his eyes on the road. What did Vicki want him to do? The new team was not gelling the way he’d hoped. Did she want him to just sit back and watch his destiny unravel?
“What’s the girl’s name, Daddy?”
“And ask how old she is,” Vicki prompted.
“How old is she, Daddy?”
“Just tell us her name and how old she is and we won’t say another word about it,” Vicki promised.
She was tough, Vicki was. Iron will. Steely mind. He might be an expert at letting the voices of the parents on his team move through him like a breeze, but that didn’t work with a force of nature like Vicki.
“Her name is Tia,” he said. “And she’s turning eleven tomorrow. All right?”
“You’re chasing a ten-year-old girl?” Vicki asked.
“I’m not chasing anyone. And she’s as good as eleven.”
“I don’t get it,” Vicki said. “You have a brand-new team with a full roster. Why are you thinking about poaching a girl when the season has barely begun?”
“I don’t poach.”
“Isn’t that how I like my eggs?” asked Dinah.
“Right,” Vicki said. “I forgot. You don’t poach. You flatter. You offer advice. You offer training. And you let Marilyn do the rest.” Vicki saw something flicker across Winslow’s face. “Is Marilyn going to be here today too?”
“No,” Winslow protested, because after all, he couldn’t be sure. “Look, the reality is that if the chemistry of the team is wrong, it’s up to me to fix it quickly. It’s a fact—the best time to replace a weak player is the first moment you notice the player is weak. People don’t grasp how quickly one weak player can pull down an entire organization.”
“Am I pulling down the organization?” Dinah asked.
Vicki shot Winslow a look.
“Of course not,” Winslow said. He hoped he sounded sincere.
“You are one of the very top players on the team, Dinah,” Vicki said. “Daddy wouldn’t bother coaching your team if you weren’t on it. Isn’t that right, Winslow?”
“Dinah, you’ve been working very hard. And you must continue to do just that. You’ve succeeded at the hardest part. You have figured out what your strength is. And once one has figured out one’s strength, the rest is easy.”
“What is my strength?” Dinah asked.
“Your aggression on the field,” Winslow said, “which, because of your small size, often surprises your opponents.”
“Winslow.” Vicki’s voice held a warning. Dinah’s tiny frame worried her even though the doctor promised a growth spurt was imminent.
“I believe your yellow card record will be legendary,” Winslow went on.
“But I can’t always get the ball to go very far when I kick it,” Dinah said. “Do you think I have a bad kick? Is that the problem?”
“There is no problem,” Vicki said. “Is there, Winslow?”
“No,” Winslow said on automatic pilot.
He went back to thinking about Tia. Could it
actually be possible she was as talented as he’d heard?
“If Tia turns out to be half as good as people say,” Winslow reasoned out loud, “someone is going to get her. Why shouldn’t it be me?” He glanced at Vicki, who was staring at him. “Us,” he added quickly.
“The turn is up there,” Vicki said, because she never forgot a face, a name, or a road.
They drove down the narrow gutted lane past the elementary school and around back to the field where the game was already under way. As they stepped out of the car, the whistle blew. Halftime.
Vicki took the keys from Winslow. She locked the car and dropped the keys in her purse. “Let’s get this over with.”
He moved close to whisper in her ear. “Over there, next to George, is the manager’s wife, Frances. She’s the one with the brother who scouts for the University of North Carolina.”
“You didn’t say anything about a college scout,” Vicki whispered back.
“I’m going to say hello to Tia. Why don’t you introduce yourself to Frances.”
“You got it,” Vicki said. She adjusted her hair. She wished she’d brought a brush. Tia was an irritation. But a college scout—that was something else.
“Wait here, Dinah,” Vicki said. “I’ll be back.”
Dinah sat down on a grassy patch in front of the car. Vicki walked over to the wife with the brother who scouted for North Carolina.
Winslow spotted his friend George on the bleachers. George saw him too, and nodded toward where a small group of girls were sitting. The girls’ coach was busy conferring with his team manager.
Winslow, looking as if he owned the field, marched over to where Tia and her friends sat slurping orange slices.
“Excellent job, young ladies,” he said. “Very well played.” He made eye contact with number eight—that would be Tia—and smiled. Tia smiled back, even though she had no idea who he was, or that he hadn’t even seen a second of her game.
“That was quite an impressive half. You do know you’re very good, don’t you?” he asked Tia. “Or has no one ever mentioned that before.”
She blushed. The girls giggled.
“Have I embarrassed you?” Winslow asked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Winslow?”
He turned toward the voice, his smile broadening. It never failed to surprise him, how far his reputation had traveled. Even here, in Chestnut Heights, he was known.
“Winslow?”
His eyes connected with the voice and his smile flattened. It was only Marilyn.
“I’m here,” she said. “It took some doing but I actually got rid of all my kids for the day. Which one is she?”
Winslow stepped farther away from the girls. “Number eight,” he said quietly, tilting his head to show where Tia was sitting. “I was just talking to her now.”
“Great. I’ll find the parents.” Marilyn scanned the crowd. “Oh no.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t look now but Maura is here.”
“Who?”
“The plumber’s wife. Maura.”
Maura turned when she heard her name. “Marilyn? What on earth are you doing here?”
Winslow kept perfectly still, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was there too.
“And Winslow,” Maura said.
Damn. Winslow turned around to face her. “Hello.”
“I’m Nadine’s mother, in case you forgot.”
He gave her a mild smile. “I know who you are.”
“What are you two doing all the way out here in Chestnut Heights?” Maura asked.
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” Marilyn said.
Maura turned to Winslow. “I’m not going to lie. I’m here because Nadine is miserable. She’s been working so hard to move up but she keeps getting disappointed. Frankly, I couldn’t stand watching her mope anymore. I decided it was time for us to start looking around to see what our options were. You know—for teams more on her level.”
“Good idea,” Winslow said. “Forward thinking. Very smart. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Roy doesn’t think it’s smart. He says you promised you’d put Nadine on your team next year for sure. He said one more year on the Asteroids could be good for her growth. But I think he’s wrong.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” Winslow said. “No point waiting if you can find something better now.”
“Would it be just a year?” Maura asked. “She can wait one more year. But if it’s more than a year, forget it. It’s too frustrating. For a kid like Nadine, who has a passion, being on the Asteroids—well, you can just imagine.”
Marilyn, who had managed to slip off, penetrated the group of Chestnut Heights parents. “So you’re Tia’s mom,” she said, her voice carrying too far.
Maura stiffened. “Who’s Tia?”
“No idea. Will you excuse me?”
Maura’s eyes were fixed on Marilyn now. Who the hell was Tia? She went to see what she could find out.
The ref blew his whistle. Halftime was over.
“Okay,” Vicki said, meeting up with Winslow. “Let’s go.”
“I haven’t had a chance to say hello to George yet. I haven’t even seen the girl play.”
“You didn’t talk to George? What have you been doing all this time?”
“Marilyn showed up,” Winslow explained. “And then Maura found us.”
“Mrs. Plumber?”
Winslow nodded.
He expected sympathy, but all Vicki said was “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Can’t you find a coffee shop or something somewhere. You can get Dinah a hot cocoa and a little something for yourself for your birthday. You can have lunch. You said you wanted lunch, didn’t you?” He reached into his pocket and took out a twenty. “Half an hour?” He offered her the bill.
Vicki stared at it like it was puke. “We’re going home.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’ve come all this way, and I haven’t even met the wife with the brother who’s the scout.”
“I don’t know who told you that one,” Vicki said. “But her brother is no scout. I asked her straight out.” She took the car keys out of her purse and started toward the car.
“I need to talk to George,” Winslow said. “I want to watch the girl.”
“Fine. Marilyn can give you a lift home.”
“Marilyn isn’t going home.”
“She isn’t? How about Maura? I bet she’d love to have you alone for an hour.”
“Very nice, Vicki,” he muttered as he followed her to the car.
Nineteen
Who told you Winslow was scouting in Chestnut Heights?” Roy asked. “And why do you believe everything you hear?”
“I saw him. I was there,” Maura said. “Marilyn was there too. You know what? I’m beginning to think Marilyn has blackballed Nadine from the team. Do you think she can do that?”
They both heard the creak and turned. Nadine stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
A huge wave of sympathy washed over Roy. “Sorry for what? You got nothing to be sorry for.”
“Sorry for heading the ball into my own goal,” Nadine said. “And for spitting on my hand.”
“What?” Maura asked.
More than anything, Roy wished he hadn’t yelled at Nadine for spitting. She had only done it because someone had said something to her. It made him so mad he wanted to spit too.
“Leave her alone, Maura,” Roy said.
“I don’t want to be on that team anymore, Daddy.” Nadine bit her lip, working to hold back tears.
“It’s not going to be for too much longer,” Roy said.
Nadine came over and laid her damp cheek on his chest.
“Daddy will take care of it, honey,” Maura said. But there was no warmth in her words.
“How?” Nadine asked.
Roy couldn’t wait to hear the answer.
“He’s going to have a talk with Winslow,” Maura said. “And after that, eith
er you’ll be on the Power, or we’ll move.”
“We’re moving?” Nadine asked.
“I’ve taken a few drives around Chestnut Heights,” Maura said. “You’d love it there. They have farms and ponds with ducks and brand-new houses with no sidewalks to worry about, and plenty of parking. And they have good soccer. You know what else?”
Nadine shook her head. She didn’t know anything.
“I happen to know they are about to lose one of the best players on their top team. So they’re going to be looking for new talent.”
“How do you know that?” Roy asked.
“And guess what position she plays?” Maura went on. “She’s the sweeper, like you.”
“I don’t want to move,” Nadine said. “I just want Winslow West to be my coach.” Nadine stared up at her father. “Can you fix it so he’s my coach, Daddy?”
“Daddy’s going to try,” Maura said. “But if Daddy can’t fix this tonight, I’m going with Aunt Patty to meet with a Realtor in Chestnut Heights tomorrow. You will love it there. The houses are huge, and new, and some even have elevators.”
“Don’t worry,” Roy said to Nadine. “I’ll talk to Winslow. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to him.”
“Now?” Nadine asked.
“I have to go over to the Soccer-Plex anyway,” Roy said. “If he’s there, I’ll talk to him now. If not, I’ll call him when I get back.”
“Get him to sign something this time,” Maura said. “Whatever he agrees to, get him to put it in writing.”
Roy got in his truck and wondered how long he could stretch out his work tonight. He tried to calculate what time Maura usually went to bed and how long it took from when she zoned out in front of the TV to when she actually fell asleep.
Twenty minutes later Roy was driving on the outskirts of town. Then, there it was, the Soccer-Plex, rising like a half-moon from the middle of an enormous field.
He pulled into the large lot, where half a dozen vehicles were clustered around Winslow’s truck, as if it needed protection.
Roy found him in the lobby, cackling with a trainer about the Power’s most recent win.
“Roy,” Winslow said when he saw him, “you can help us out here. Were you at Nadine’s last game?”
Here we go, Roy thought. Winslow heard about the spit. “Yes,” he said quietly.