Field of Schemes Read Online Free PDF Page A

looked so well sewn together, it was reassuring to find someone who seemed to feel as frayed as I did. “How are you settling in? Come on in.”
    “Good,” I said, following her into the kitchen.
    Darcy’s ultramodern kitchen looked like something off the cover of House Beautiful, with dominant tones of light wood and brushed steel illuminated by a flood of natural light. The only place I’d ever seen more windows was in a greenhouse. The ceiling was covered in silver with multiple crisp wires suspending sleek halogen lights. The centerpiece was a wood and stainless steel island with a gas range and granite cutting station. Around the periphery was light wood cabinetry that sunk into the surface of the walls. A few family photos were perched on a mantle over a small fireplace. Everyone was smiling on a sailboat, Darcy beaming and her husband tan and laughing. The lighting was such that I couldn’t really see her husband’s face as he wore a fishing hat and sunglasses, but I could tell he was a handsome man by the way he held himself, the way he looked confidently into the camera. Steve also looked straight into the lens. I always turned a bit, as if hoping that a different perspective might make me look better. I never noticed this until Steve once asked me why I looked like I was hiding in photos. When he said this, I looked back at all of my pictures and noticed I’d been posing this way since I was about eight years old.
    “Sit, sit,” Darcy said, pointing to her table. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Orange juice?” In the time it took her to make these offers, she’d made her way around her enormous, modern kitchen. I wasn’t even sure what she was heading toward, since she never opened the fridge or a cupboard.
    “No, thanks. I just had breakfast. I was hoping to talk to you about Kelly’s soccer team.”
    “Are you sure? I’ve got water boiling anyway.”
    “Um, okay,” I agreed because it seemed easier than refusing.
    “What do you want to know about soccer?” she asked. Was she ever going to sit?
    “Well, this guy Preston came to Rachel’s game yesterday and asked her to come to tryouts for the club in spring.”
    “Great,” Darcy said, wiping a clean counter.
    “Rachel’s thrilled,” I said, pausing.
    “You’re not?”
    “I’m torn. I mean, it’s flattering that he thinks Rachel has talent, but what are we getting ourselves into?”
    Finally, Darcy sat at the table, bringing a sugar bowl, honey and a variety of packaged artificial sweeteners. Stirring honey into her teacup, she answered, “It’s definitely a big commitment, but Kelly loves it so we manage.”
    “That’s what Preston said, but what does he mean by commitment?”
    She laughed. “It means that after your first season, most parents are ready for a mental institution.” Before I could react, she continued. “I’m exaggerating, of course, but it is different. I’d be lying to you if I didn’t tell you that it’s way more intense than rec soccer . Well, some of the parents are more intense. I always thought it would be a good idea for the club to invest in an on-site therapist who could run sessions for parents while the kids are practicing, ’cause left to their own devices for a couple hours, some of these folks can really stir the pot.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “They start questioning the drills, the plays, basically second-guessing everything the coach does,” Darcy told me. “I’m telling you, they need to find some way to occupy these folks during practice.”
    “We have to stay for practice?” I asked, not thrilled with the prospect.
    “You don’t have to, but many of them do so they can micromanage. But Claire, that’s only some of them, and you can stay out of all the politics. Kelly’s had a great experience, and Ron and I stay away from all the petty bullshit. He was the unofficial assistant manager last year, and even he never got sucked into the drama.”
    Knowingly, I