Free Pool Boys by Erin Haft Page B

misty eyes. Just last night, they’d been there. With Marcus.
    “I gotta tell you, I’m really bad at golf,” she finally muttered.
    “So am I.” Valerie patted her shoulder. “All the more reason to play. It’ll be much more fun, right? No competition.”

Chapter Eleven
Crashing Kenwood
    So this is what my life has come to.
    On Sunday morning, Caleb gazed up at Eliza von Klaus from a leather armchair in the Silver Oaks parlor, and wondered—for a horrifying, pitiful, surreal moment—what it would be like to hook up with her.
    Not that he would ever act on it. Not that he could even attempt to try. But the thought did flit through his mind. And hey, was it really so wrong? Right now she looked pretty good, post-tennis lesson, when she wasn’t all made up, fresh from the court in her white nylons, her red hair in disarray.
    I made out with this woman’s daughter. I am going to hell.
    “So what finds you here, dear?” Mrs. von Klaus asked. She eased down into the armchair across from him, sipping a bottle of Fiji water. “You know, somebody should really redecorate this room.” She wrinkled her nose at the mahogany bookshelves. “It’s so drab in here.”
    “Well, I think it was the smoking room once,” Caleb suggested.
    Mrs. von Klaus threw her head back and cackled, as if he’d told an outlandishly hysterical joke. “You are a laugh riot , sweetheart,” she proclaimed in a shrill voice. “So, tell me. Do you play tennis at all?”
    Caleb shook his head, and shifted in the seat. The leather squeaked under his khaki carpenter shorts. Maybe he should leave. Yes. He was here to hide, anyway. Earlier, he’d strolled out toward the cabana, in a carefree mood—nothing on his mind except another day by the pool—and then he’d spotted Brooke and Marcus on some loungers by the shallow end. They looked pretty much as if they’d made a pact to go ahead and do the nasty right there. So he beat a hasty retreat to the dining room, but not before he caught a glimpse of Valerie Packwood chatting up Georgia out on the path by the tennis courts. What the hell was going on with that new friendship? And so he made a beeline for the one place where he couldn’t possibly run into members of the opposite sex—this dusty old room lined with books nobody read, and arranged with furniture nobody ever used.
    At which point, Mrs. von Klaus showed up.
    “Well, my divorce lawyer told me that playing tennis is a great way to meet single, older men,” she was saying. “What do you think?”
    Caleb blinked. “Huh?”
    “Do you think tennis will improve my love life?” She wriggled her eyebrows.
    The leather chair was beginning to feel like quicksand.“I think your lawyer’s in a better position to answer that than I am, Mrs. von Klaus,” Caleb croaked. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I should probably be—”
    “Nonsense!” She threw her head back and cackled again, then hopped up and patted his knee. “You stay right here. I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart!”
    Caleb watched her go. Yes. Yes, you will. And that terrifies me.
    Just as Charlotte’s mom was trotting out, Ethan came in, his hair messy from playing. He nodded politely at Mrs. von Klaus, then spotted Caleb sitting alone in the middle of the room. He stopped and grinned, puzzled.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked.
    “Trying to hide and failing,” Caleb mumbled. He gestured toward the armchair across from him. “Have a seat. It’s lots of fun.”
    Ethan shrugged and plopped down across from him. He dabbed his face with the towel he was holding, glancing around at the meticulously arranged coffee tables and Oriental carpets. “I need a break myself. You know, in two years, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in the parlor.”
    Caleb smirked. “You look beat, man. Mrs. von Klaus really gave you a run for your money, huh?”
    Ethan glared at him. “Have you ever tried playing tennis