Final Round

“Sounds magnificent.”

“It was-or at least it seemed like it was, when I was a kid. Everyone in town referred to it as “the Club.” It was about the only green pretty spot in that whole windy red-dirt town. I fell in love at first sight.”

“I’ve heard that happens to young boys. Except that they usually fall for girls, not landscape.”

“Girls came later. When I was just a squirt, all I wanted was to play golf like a pro-to spend the rest of my life on pretty green courses. I wanted it to be my one-way ticket out of town.”

“Except that you still live there.”

“Fu

“Don’t sell yourself short, hotdog. You are on the PGA tour.”

“True. But I never would’ve gotten there without John. In addition to being more talented, he was also a hell of a lot smarter than me. He got a scholarship to Stanford, made the Dean’s Honor Roll, and was on the tour before he’d even graduated. Meanwhile, I was back in Norman at OU, rarely attending class but always attending the golf course. It’s a miracle I graduated.”

“And when you got out?”

“I tried out for the tour. The qualifying school is a bear-and-a-half. To make a long story short-I didn’t make the cut.”

“But I thought-”

“The first time. I thought I was finished, but John wouldn’t leave it at that. He took me under his wing, got me private lessons. I even got instruction from the late great Harvey Penick himself, God rest his soul. And I practiced like a demon. And next year-I made the tour. Got my official membership card and secret decoder ring and everything.”

“That’s a great story.”

Co

“But you left one part out. What about your real life?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know-off the course. Are you married?”

Co

“Fancy that. How long can you keep this up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Surely you don’t plan to play golf forever. Don’t you ever think about growing up and getting a real job?”

Co

“Relax,” O’Brien replied. “Down here, a lot of folks learned to drive on a John Deere, and for them, this is the right speed.”

“I could live with that, but he’s also got his left turn signal blinking.”

“Must be a Yankee. Most of the locals don’t use turn signals, and ignore those who do.”

Co

“Do tell? Then you may rest assured the signal was on when the vehicle was purchased.”

A big sign arching the front drive told him he had arrived at the Magnolia Glade Country Club. He leaned toward the front guard post and identified himself. The gate popped up and Co

And magnificent it was, too. A huge marble edifice-even larger than the Augusta National clubhouse-with Doric columns flanking the front porch.

“Isn’t this where Scarlett O’Hara lives?” Co

O’Brien laughed. “Was. Nowadays she’s got a condo downtown.”

One look at that enormous mansion house, with the huge gushing fountain out front, was enough to make Co

“And who do you think you are?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Rhett Butler?”

Co

“I always appreciate a gentleman.”

Co

“I bet we don’t have to walk.” She sca

A black stretch limousine pulled up in front of them. The passenger side window lowered. “May I take you to the ballroom?” the driver asked.

“If you insist.” O’Brien scampered into the back seat, Co

During the short ride, Co

The limo eased beside the front steps. Co

“Enjoy the reception,” the chauffeur said, with a tip of his hat. Then he pulled away in search of other arrivals.

Co

O’Brien tugged at his shoulder. “I think we should split up.”

“Why? I wore the tux. I used mouthwash.”

“We can cover more ground separately. Talk to more people. We’ll meet later and compare notes. Make sense?”

“Well…” Co

“Besides, I’m starving. I gotta find me a deviled eggs plate.”

“What, at a classy soirée like this?”

“You’re in the South, Co

Co

The guests in attendance were no less impressive. O’Brien had been right. All the men were strapped into monkey suits, and the gowns worn by some of the women looked as if they had been borrowed from the finalists at the Miss America pageant.

After a brief survey of the ballroom, Co

“Not bad, eh?”

Ace, looking as if he had stepped out of a Fred Astaire movie, was leaning over Co

“Ding, ding. I wouldn’t mind licking off her frosting.”

Co