Spencer knew she had made great strides when pressure from the press no longer tightened her nerves. Her habitual terror of saying the wrong thing, or saying too much, faded. She still had secrets. Before coming to Australia she’d promised herself a moratorium. Whatever decisions had to be made would wait. For the moment she wanted to concentrate on happiness. Happiness was Ashley—and tennis.

There were good memories in Australia—wins, losses. Good tennis. The people were relaxed, casual. The friendliness was exactly what Spencer needed after the tension of England. Aussies remembered The Face, and welcomed her. For the first time since her comeback Spencer found the winning taking second place to the enjoying. The change in her was noticeable even during the early rounds. Her smiles came more frequently. Though her play was no less intense and concentrated, the air of being driven was fading.

From the first row of the stands Ashley watched Spencer in early morning practice. She’d just completed two hours of her own. Now, her legs stretched out, she studied her from behind the protection of tinted glasses. Spencer had improved, she mused… not only as an athlete. She remembered how important athletic ability was to her. The fact that Spencer was a strategist and a craftsman had never been enough. Always, Spencer had striven to be recognized as a good athlete. And so she would be, Ashley thought, as Spencer raced to the net to slap a return with her two-fisted backhand. Perhaps in some ways the years of retirement had toughened her.

Ashley’s face clouded a moment. Consciously she smoothed the frown away. This wasn’t the time to think of that or to dwell on the questions that still plagued her. Whys—so many whys hammered at her. Yet she recognized that Spencer was grabbing this time to be carefree. She’d give her that. She would wait. But when the season was over, she’d have her answers. When Spencer’s laughter floated to her Ashley forgot the doubts. It was a rich, warm sound, heard all too rarely. Leaning back, Ashley chugged down cold fruit juice and looked around her.

If Wimbledon was her favorite stadium, the grass of Kooyong was her favorite surface. It was as hard as a roadbed and fast. A ball bounced true here, unlike other grass courts. Even at the end of the season, when the courts were worn and soiled, the surface remained even. Even after a deluge of rain, the Australian grass was resilient. Kooyong was a treasure for the fast, for the aggressive. Ashley was ready for just such a match. Through half-closed eyes she watched Spencer. She was ready, too, Ashley decided. And ever more ready to enjoy it. A smile touched her mouth. Whatever questions there were, whatever answers, nothing could harm what was between them now.