Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,39
mean-girled at bridge? I touched my hair. Which, admittedly, hadn’t been given a lot of attention since I left Houston. But did I really look that bad?
I found Vivi across the room, deep in conversation. She excused herself when she saw my face. Still touching my hair self-consciously, I asked, “Does my hair look okay?”
“Your hair?” Understanding passed over Vivi’s features and she glared over my shoulder. “Oh. You must have met Lynda. Pink hair?”
I nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Ignore her. The things I could tell you about that woman … I’m going to choose joy and thoughts of Lynda do not bring me joy. Let’s take our seats. Ready?”
Not remotely. The last few days, I’d split my time between looking up renovation ideas on Pinterest, cleaning and decluttering Nana’s house, and watching bridge tutorials on YouTube. I was anything but prepared.
Thankfully, we started with the four of us together. I could tell that Sylvia and Lucy wanted to help me—but not as much as they wanted to win.
They thoroughly beat me and Vivi, calling and high-fiving over it, while Vivi tried with waning patience to point out what I’d done wrong. From bidding to understanding what won tricks, it was a lot. Someone rang a little bell signifying that it was time to switch tables. I guessed hoofing it was the consequence for losing. And with some of the women shuffling with walkers and canes, it was a consequence.
Vivi leaned her head close to me. “Now, get ready for a cutthroat game.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That wasn’t cutthroat?” I was sweating, my head felt like a mess of half-formed rules, and I was beginning to question the sanity of saying yes. My respect for Nana, already high, blasted through the ceiling and beyond.
Vivi pursed her lips and shook her head at me. At least I could be sure that they’d never ask me to play again after my performance. I felt even more sure of that after we took our seats at a table with none other than Lynda Juicypants. Sweat prickled again at my hairline. This was going to be a long night.
“You have to work on your bidding,” Lucy explained as we all walked to Sylvia’s car. She’d insisted on driving and took turns at a much higher speed than I would have liked.
“You’ll get it, mija,” Sylvia said, giving me a pat on the cheek. “With time.”
“Hopefully not too much time,” Vivi muttered. She was still angry with me for the fact that we lost every round, ending the undefeated streak she and Nana had going.
I was still having trouble wrapping my mind around this. Whenever Nana had mentioned bridge, I’d pictured sweet old ladies playing cards and swapping stories of their grandchildren with tea.
There was no tea—though a few women smelled like they were indulging in the Long Island variety. The grandchild talk was more of a one-upping competition, listing accomplishments like a pedigree. I had been alternately ignored and handed backhanded compliments.
Like: “I love your hair! I didn’t need to start coloring mine until my fifties, but there’s no shame in starting early.”
And: “You young people are so lucky. Your generation doesn’t care what you wear when you go out in public.”
The kicker was when one woman told me that maybe Solitaire would be more my game. I needed something to take the edge off this night.
“The next bridge night is two weeks from now,” Lucy said. “Same time, same place.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone to replace me permanently by then.” I closed my eyes, leaning my head back on the headrest as Sylvia started her car.
There was a pause so long that I opened my eyes to find them all staring at me, Sylvia and Lucy craning their necks uncomfortably from the front.
“This isn’t a sub position,” Lucy said, finally. “We want you to have Jo’s place on the team.”
“Me? Are you serious?”
I glanced at Vivi, whose cheeks were still flushed, her jaw tight. I couldn’t believe I’d never seen this competitive side of her—or any of them—before.
After a moment, Vivi nodded. “You’re our fourth now,” she said, then glanced out the window. “Even if you can’t play for …”
She muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out and definitely didn’t sound like English.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taught you those words,” Sylvia said, clucking her tongue. “You know God understands Spanish too?”
Vivi only muttered something else that had Sylvia crossed herself while Lucy grabbed the wheel.