mountains.
"Well I hope whoever it was
doesn't think everyone up here is
as crazy as you are," she chided.
"I'm only crazy about you," the
golf pro answered sweetly. "Let
me grab a shower. What time are
we supposed to be there tonight?"
"About seven-thirty. You better
hurry." They had been invited to
dinner at the home of Carol and
Joyce, two of Marty's longtime
friends here in North Carolina.
They were year-round residents
of the High Country, Carol now
retired from the local gas
company and Joyce working at the
Linville post office. Both were
members at Elk Ridge, but Joyce's
job made it hard for them to play
during the week. Carol and Louise
had played a few times together,
usually paired up with another
twosome when things got busy at
the course.
Twenty minutes later, Marty
emerged from her shower, fresh
and clean, wearing her best khaki
shorts and the aloha shirt Katie
had given her for Mother's Day.
"Don't you look cute!"
"I have to look cute when I go out
with you. I don't want people to
think you have bad taste."
"Silly." Louise filled her dog's
water bowl and bade him
goodnight as Marty turned out the
lights and waited at the front
door. In no time, they were pulling
into the drive at their friends'
home, looking forward to a
relaxing night of socializing.
Carol and Joyce lived in a beautiful
mountain home they had built
themselves off Highway 105. The
wrap-around deck offered a
spectacular view of Grandfather
Mountain, and it was here that
they had dined this evening.
"So have any of you had a chance
to meet Charlene Rogers yet?"
Joyce asked the group.
"Who's that?" Carol asked.
"She's from Winston-Salem. She
came by the post office yesterday
to sign up for a box. She said she
was moving up here to play golf all
summer and I asked her where.
She told me she'd just joined at
Elk Ridge."
"I met her today. In fact, we play
a round this afternoon," Marty
answered innocently.
"You better tighten her leash,
Louise. Charlene Rogers is a
looker, and I'd bet money she's
on the prowl," Joyce warned.
"I didn't get that from her at all,"
the golf pro defended. "She just
seemed really nice."
"I don't think I have to worry
about Marty," Louise kidded. "She doesn't like sleeping on the
couch."
"You're so whipped, Marty," Carol teased.
"There could be worse things in
this world, Carol."
Later that night as the women got
ready for bed, Louise brought up
the subject of the newcomer from
Winston-Salem. "So this Charlene
Rogers, is she as pretty as Joyce
says?"
Marty shrugged, tossing her shirt
on the bedside chair. "Yeah, she's
attractive, I guess."
Neither woman really noticed
when Louise automatically
retrieved the shirt and hung it
back in the closet. Slipping up
behind the cute little blonde, she
wrapped her arms around Marty's
waist just as she raised the
nightshirt above her head. "So is
Joyce right? Should I tighten
your leash?" she growled playfully.
"You know better than that, Lou,"
she said defensively. As far as
Marty was concerned, there would
never be another temptation as
long as she had Lou Stevens to
come home to.
"Yes, I do. I just know what a big
flirt you are," she teased, biting
into Marty's neck from behind.
"I'd say you're the one who's
being the flirt right now, Miss
Stevens. You got something in
mind?"
"Why don't you lose that
nightshirt and we'll see!"
Louise really did like it here in
North Carolina. She and Rhonda
had visited several years ago in
the summertime when Linda and
Shirley had gotten that timeshare.
How things had changed in her
life since then!
She still missed Rhonda from time
to time, but Marty had taken care
of that ache that was her constant
companion after her lover had
died. Her days with the impish
golf pro were filled with laughter,
good times, and a genuine love that
warmed her soul.
Louise wondered what Rhonda
would think of Marty Beck. That
was easy. Rhonda liked everybody,
and she would have loved Marty's
sense of humor. Funny, that was
something the two had in common,
though Louise sensed early on that
Marty's had a more "adult" flavor, probably because she'd been
around golfers all her life. Her
language was certainly more
colorful.
She hadn't had any trouble finding
things to do in this new place, but
Louise had to admit that the days
were sometimes pretty long when
Marty was out on the course.
That's why she looked forward to
Mondays, when they played a
round in the afternoon; to
Wednesdays, when she played
with Carol and had a chance to pop
in at the clubhouse; and most of all
to Fridays, when Marty had the
day off.
But today was Sunday, and the
urge to see her sweetheart was
almost more than she could stand.
All she wanted was a quick hello
and one of those patented Marty
Beck grins.
"I think I'll go hit a bucket of
balls, Petie. Will you hold down the
fort?"
The terrier's ears went up, as
they did each time he heard his
name. But his mistress wasn't
paying him any mind. No, she was
wrestling with that clanging bag of
sticks again. This was good,
though. She always came home
happy.
The course was predictably
crowded for the weekend, and
that meant that Marty was
probably working the counter or
giving a lesson. Louise scanned the
clubhouse for her lover before
heading out to the range tees. Off
to the left, the familiar blonde
hair caught her eye. A man and a
woman were working in tandem on
their chip shots as the golf pro
gave assistance. The tall woman
smiled to herself, happy at once to
see Marty doing what she loved.
Louise emptied some of the range
balls into the trough, selecting a
nine-iron to start.
Smack!
That felt pretty good.
Smack!
The ball dropped softly only a few
feet from the 75-yard marker.
Deciding not to press her luck,
she tucked her iron away and
extracted a fairway wood. These
shots had been giving her a little
trouble lately, and it would be
good to work out the kinks in how
she was following through.
Smack!
Topped it.
Smack!
That one didn't go straight at all.
"You know, there's a 50-cent
surcharge for every ball that
leaves the driving range."
Louise smiled at the familiar line,
turning at once to see… to see
Marty approach a woman she'd
noticed earlier having a good deal
of trouble making solid contact
with the ball. The woman was quite
attractive, but appeared to have
had only minimal instruction in the
game of golf.
"Oh my! I'm so embarrassed. I
can't seem to get in any sort of
rhythm. I'm just terrible at this,"
the woman gushed with obvious
discomfiture.
"No, you're not terrible at all. You
just need a few pointers and some
time to practice," the golf pro
encouraged. "Here, let me show
you a couple of things, Charlene."
That must be Charlene Rogers,
Louise thought.
"I don't think anyone can help this
lousy swing, Martha."
"I told you. My friends call me
Marty," the golf pro said, smiling
as moved toward the golfer.
At the other end of the mats, the
tall woman grew steamed at the
exchange. "My friends call me
Marty. Won't you be my friend?"
she muttered angrily.
The golf pro stepped behind
Charlene to help her find the
right position for addressing the
ball. An abrupt movement a few
mats away caused her to look up,
where she met glaring blue eyes
that radiated both anger and hurt.
"Hi, Lou!" Marty smiled tentatively, surprised at seeing her
sweetheart here at the range.
Louise shoved her club back into
the bag forcefully and heaved it
onto her shoulder. With dozens of
balls scattered at her feet, the
long-legged golfer stomped off in
a huff.
Oh shit! "Excuse me," Marty said
to a baffled Charlene. "Lou, wait
up!"
"Mary Louise Stevens, you are
such a fool," she chastised
herself.
"Lou," Marty panted breathlessly, finally catching her lover at the
trunk of her car. "What is it?
What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? I'll tell you
what's wrong, Martha Beck.
What's wrong is that I fell for
that silly little '50-cent surcharge'
line just like apparently everybody
else. I didn't know you had flirting
down to such a routine."
"Flirting? Lou, I wasn't flirting
with that woman!"
"Fine! You can call it something
else if you want to, but I call 'em
as I see 'em." Louise slammed her
trunk emphatically, causing Marty
to jump back.
"Lou, come on! I give golf lessons
for a living. It's important for me
to be friendly, especially when I
see people who could really use
the help. I wasn't flirting." Marty
vividly recalled pleading the same
case time and again before Angela,
almost word for word.
Louise wanted to believe she was
overreacting; wanted to think
she'd just imagined something
that wasn't there. But Marty had a
history of fooling around; she'd
said so herself. And Louise wasn't
going to just ignore this when
there was a chance she'd get her
heart broken.
"Marty, I think we'd better step
back and see what's going on here.
I don't want to find myself
wearing Angela's shoes."
The blonde woman's jaw dropped
at the last remark. Angrily, she
reached for the car door as
Louise moved to pull it shut. "Now
you wait a minute. How the hell did
this get to be about that?"
The tall woman jutted her chin out
defiantly. She could be hurtful too.
"Let me tell you something," Marty started, her face growing redder
by the second. "In the first place,
that was eight years ago. In the
second place, I did that to Angela
- not to you - so I don't have to
answer to you for it. And in the
third place," her green eyes were
like lasers pinning Louise to her
seat, "I didn't tell you about it so
you could throw it in my face."
With that last retort, Marty spun
in the dirt and stormed off
toward the pool of carts. She
didn't dare go near another human
being for fear of tearing off
someone's head. Within moments,
she commandeered a cart and
wheeled out recklessly toward the
first tee.
Louise sat frozen in her car,
stupefied at what had transpired.
Okay, so what exactly had
transpired? All she knew was that
she'd been feeling on top of the
world only 15 minutes ago, and now
she felt like throwing up.
Petie scampered out of the way of
the flying newspaper. He couldn't
remember ever seeing his
mistress this angry, even when he
used to… you know. "I'm sorry,
down to pet the cowering dog.
"You're my best friend, you know
that?"
Yeah, he knew. She was his too.
"What am I going to do, Petie? I
screwed up. She admitted to
making a mistake, and told me how
bad it made her feel. And I threw
that right in her face, just like
she said." Louise had berated
herself for a whole day, not eating
much and not sleeping well at all.
Marty had come home at her usual
time, but had gone straight into
the guest room and locked the
door without speaking. This
morning, she was gone when Lou
got up.
Louise had played the whole thing
over again and again in her head,
and knew without a doubt that she
was wrong, wrong, wrong.
The Boston terrier looked at her
sheepishly.
"That's right. I need to
apologize." Marty liked giving
flowers, but she didn't seem like
the type that would enjoy getting
them. No, and besides, flowers
wouldn't be near enough. When
Rhonda got really mad, it always
took jewelry.
Jewelry! Hurriedly, Lo
uise went
into the master bedroom and
opened the bottom drawer in the
bureau Marty had emptied for her
things. Sifting through the golf
shirts, she extracted the
mahogany box that she had been
afraid to leave behind in Florida.
It held the collection of gold,
silver, and jewels that Rhonda had
worn through the years. Most of
these items were chosen by
Louise, given as gifts at
Christmas, birthdays, and
Valentine's Day.
There! Louise studied the small
gold lapel pin, only an inch and a
half long, a lady golfer in the
midst of her backswing. A tiny
diamond chip represented the ball
on the tee. She'd given the pin in
Rhonda's Christmas stocking the
year they'd both taken up golf.
Her lover had worn it often, and it
was one of Louise's favorites.
No reason for this to sit in the
dark box, she reasoned. If it
weren't enough for a peace
offering, she could always come
back and get the small emerald
earrings. Now wouldn't Marty look
nice in those!
The tall woman checked the clock:
12:45. Technically, she and the
cute little golf pro still had a tee
time in 30 minutes. Louise
wondered if she'd show.
"Why don't you go beat the shit
out of a bucket of balls, Marty?"
Joe Baxter had had enough of his
partner's surly disposition, now
going on two days. Yesterday
afternoon, she'd rearranged
every single rack in the pro shop,
so that he couldn't find a thing.
This morning, she'd gone out on
foot with a squirt bottle and a rag
to clean the tee markers - all 108
of them! Next, she'd probably
want to pull out all the cups and
wash them, or trim the greens
with a razor.
"I don't know, Joe. The way I'm
feeling right now, that might not
be such a good idea."
"Maybe you ought to just take the
day off. I can manage," he
offered. They'd had a rush this
morning around eight, but weren't
expecting another crowd. Mondays
were kind of slow.
"Thanks, but I think I'd go nuts at
home. But I'll try not to drive you
crazy here, okay?"
Marty was frustrated. She felt
awful about the scene with Lou
yesterday, and especially about
going into the guest room and
locking the door. No matter how
bad things were, they needed to
be able to talk, and she'd behaved
pretty childishly. Still, she
couldn't understand why Lou had
gotten so upset. She needed to be
outgoing and friendly in her job;