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I pick up the orange mallet and hit my ball toward the starting stake.
My parents’ backyard is my favorite part of this property. Its square footage is rare for Los Angeles, especially considering they bought this property before my dad’s career really took off.
Spring’s approach means the air is perfumed with the scent of eucalyptus and lilac. Prickly pear and poppies and irises and succulents spill out of the flowerbeds, stopping when the mulch turns to lush grass.
My dad hits first, which has always impacted his color choice. He makes it through the first two wickets, which is a typical start for him.
Rachel sinks down in the grass with an exaggerated sigh.
First rounds tend to take a while. Once, he made it all the way to the opposite stake before the rest of us even touched our balls.
This time, he only makes it through five wickets before it’s Rachel’s turn to hit. She manages three, then Eddie is up. He only gets the yellow ball through the first two, bouncing off the edge of the white metal when he attempts the third.
“How embarrassing, Ed,” I tease, leaning down and using my mallet to measure the starting distance.
I’m pretty sure Eddie replies with a rude gesture, because I hear my dad say “Edward” in the stern tone that he’s used to chastise us since we were little kids. Rachel laughs.
I tune them all out as I focus on my first hit. The orange ball sails through the first two wickets, rolling to a stop in the exact spot I was aiming for. Eddie groans when I hit right past his yellow ball, easily clearing the third wicket as well. Then I pass Rachel’s blue ball, rolling through the fourth. I overtake my dad at the fifth hoop, then barely miss the sixth.
“Thank God,” Rachel says, dramatically.
My dad gives me a subtle thumbs up.
My whole family is tight knit. But I’m closer with my parents than my siblings, especially my dad.
Rachel is relaxed and independent. During her summer trips, we won’t hear from her for weeks. Eddie is busy with work and his growing family.
I’m the one who lived at home after college and who comes over for dinner once a week.
That extra time has translated into my croquet game. I’ve logged many more hours in this backyard than either Rachel or Eddie have.
Eddie and Rachel give up on making it through the course themselves and settle for sending wild swings toward the orange and black balls heading toward home. Fortunately for me and my dad, their aim is terrible. Eddie comes close to hitting me once but never manages to.
Hits are allowed but unsportsmanlike, according to my dad. Since our first family game, he’s maintained a motto ofwin with your own skill, not by bringing others down.
Considering how ruthless he can be at work, I think it was more a rule he made when we were younger and more likely to whack each other with mallets. And now that we’re adults, he still feels like he needs to stick with it.
It only takes two more turns for me to complete the course and return to the first stake. Once my dad manages to hit the final mallet as well, he walks over to me, leaving Eddie and Rachel to finish the game.
“Excellent game, Hannah.”
I smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
His proud expression prompts a guilty twinge in my chest. I’ve never withheld anything important from my father. And I think mymarriagequalifies.
I know nothing about the process of divorce. I’m sure Oliver has realized the same thing that occurred to me mid-flight to LA: we didn’t sign a prenuptial agreement. He’ll undoubtedly hire the best divorce attorney money can buy to protect himself. I should do the same, and my dad knows a lot of powerful, important people.
But I can’t force the words out, no matter how terrifying it is to be tied to a stranger. Can’t bear to see pride turn to disappointment.
“I have a meeting with Logan Cassidy and his coach set up for tomorrow night,” my father says, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“You finally hooked him, huh?”
“He’s smart to play hard to get. Sets him apart from Donovan.”
“There are already plenty of differences there.”
Trey Donovan is widely expected to go first in next year’s draft. I know nothing about Logan Cassidy except my father has a keen interest in him.
