"Let's put it this way," says Chris. "Jimmy and I are more solid now. We know how each other feels. I always thought I would play tennis three or four years, then settle down and raise a family. But each year I play it's going to be harder to leave. I'd be a fool to stop now with all this money around and waste my talent. I can see playing a few more seasons, then gradually slipping into retirement. But I don't know. I don't feel secure anymore about the future. My life isn't mapped out for me, and that's kind of fun. There is a certain excitement in not knowing what's going to happen. I guess I'll just have to wait to read the book."
In the meantime, Evert is charting her course as befits a true child of the liberated generation. This is no small achievement.
One day in 1969, when Evert was a 14-year-old wonder tot and had just gained one of her first important victories, her grandmother Christine, who was to die of cancer a few weeks later, whispered to her namesake, "Chris. Someday for me. No. 1."
Now she is that. It must come as sweet fulfillment to the family, the world of women's tennis and the girl herself that Chris Evert has achieved all this—and womanhood, too.