Chapter 16

The tournament course proved difficult for everyone, and only a scattered few players shot rounds in the 60s. After Day One, the leader board reflected one score of 67, and two 69s. It was one of those days when shooting par was not necessarily a disappointment.

Tess came in at 71 and Kim right on the number at 72. They were neither hyped nor discouraged. I thought the steely-eyed determination looked good on both of them.

Friday was more of the same. There was something about this course, and this tournament, that gave my two golfers an air of confidence. But you can be as steadfast and determined as you please, and you've still got to go out and put up a number. Kim did. She shot a 68. Tess picked up her second straight 71.

No making-the-cut problems this trip. Kim's 140 had her in the tournament's top ten after two rounds, and Tess was well ahead of the cut line with her 142.

Tess made a nice little charge in Saturday's final round, coming within one shot of the leaders at one point, but eventually settling for a 73. At one under for the three-day event, she finished tied for fifth overall and collected $44,591.

Kim faded badly on the final day, ending up two over for the tournament -- ninth place and $27,400 and change.

Kim was upset. I reminded her that it was a big payday -- her second-biggest ever.

"It's not the dropped shots today, or winning less money than I expected to," she said. "What makes me mad is, there were two other golfers named 'Kim' who finished ahead of me! That made me only the third-best 'Kim' in the field!"

It was true. Mi Hyun Kim had finished first at six under par. Our old friend, Young Kim, had matched Tess' score and tied for fifth place.

"Just point me at those Kims," Tess said dramatically, and I'll get 'em for you, Kimmy!"

I glanced at the leader board and told Tess that she'd done great. "You're number one among all golfers named 'Tess, ' I said -- not only on this tour, but, I'm pretty sure, on the PGA Tour as well!"

As is often the case after tournament results are in, the women stopped complaining pretty soon and just contemplated the fact that they'd both picked up a nice piece of change.

The Tulsa International Airport was well north of our RV park in Broken Arrow, so I left the RV there and drove them, in the Scion, to catch their flight to Richmond. They would rent a car for the drive to Williamsburg.

After their send-off, I doubled back to hook up the car behind the RV and head out, further to the southeast, to pick up Interstate 40 for the run back to Carolina.

Our earlier discussions about my taking along another caddie, or some other tournament-hopping stray, to keep me company had been tabled when we found out I would be stopping by Chapel Hill to pick up Grandma Hoop.

Too bad. That Sandra Pirtle chick was kind-of a babe. She was short. A little chunky, maybe, but definitely a babe. Sandra was sort of a younger version of our Hawaiian friend Bonnie Burkowitz, and, as far as I knew, at least, she was straight. And available.

Right, that's just what I needed -- some spare pussy. I knew -- better than anybody, really -- that a few days off from back-bedroom duty would not be harmful to my health.

I didn't expect to get too far on Saturday night, with my late-in-the-day departure. The Arkansas state line was a reasonable goal. When I got to Ft. Smith, I didn't even look for a hook-up. I just parked the RV in the far reaches of a massive Wal-Mart parking lot and shut down for the night. I figured two more long days of driving would get me to Chapel Hill.

It was late Monday when I pulled in. I decided it was too late to show up at Henderson Manor, so I took the RV to the park Tess always used to store it whenever we were in town. I'd call the house on Tuesday morning. Maybe I could go over there in time for one of those primo Henderson breakfasts that I so enjoyed.

It would be my first time, trying to relate to Tess' parents while she was off somewhere else. Might be awkward. That's OK, I'd just concentrate on Grandma Hoop. We were buds.

I left the RV for a cleanup -- inside and out -- by the park staff, and drove to the Henderson house (I've gotta quit calling it 'Henderson Manor') in the little Scion. I'd called ahead, and, sure enough, breakfast was on the table when I got there. These people really knew how to live.

Mrs. Hoop was pleased to see me for the first time since August of the previous year. She looked good. I found out that she'd suffered some serious health reversals (I was given few details) over the winter, but that she was OK again now. Not playing much golf, anymore, but feeling fine.

"When can we leave for Williamsburg?" she wanted to know. "I can't walk that course much, during the tournament. At least, not every day of it. But if we get there in time for the pro-am tomorrow, I've already got permission to follow the players in a golf cart, for just that day!"

"If we leave right after lunch today," I told her, "we can be there tonight, without difficulty."

"Oh, good!" she said. "Roy thinks I'm crazy, driving over there with you in that... thing. They're flying all the way into Williamsburg! But I thought the bus-thing would be fun!"

"Oh, it is," I agreed. "And very comfortable. You'll be fine."

I was eager to get to the tournament in time to be of some help to Tess in her preparations. I was pleased that I wasn't going to have to coax Mrs. Hoop along to get us underway early.

By 11 a.m., I'd retrieved the RV, come back to pick her up, and we were on the road again, having decided to get our lunch later.

For most of the drive to Williamsburg, Mrs. Hoop sat up front next to me, enjoying the comfort of the big Captain's Chair, far over on the passenger side of the bus. The view of the road ahead was high and more immediate than one typically saw out of an automobile windshield. She took it all in with a measure of real delight.

I was thinking that I would be satisfied if, at 77 years of age, I had as much vinegar left as Grandma Hoop did.

We were soon in Virginia, heading north on I-95 toward Petersburg. We had to take a big inverted "V" route to Williamsburg, to avoid the James River. We'd pick up I-64 east of Richmond and head southeast to the site of the tournament.

"You and Tess hit it off pretty good, I hear," Grandma Hoop said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of us, as if she were doing the driving.

"Yes, ma'am," I said."

"Call me Mabel," she said. "It's not my name, but everybody calls me 'Mabel.' I like it."

"OK... Mabel."

"Mabel, Mabel, get off the table -- that quarter's for beer!" she said.

What? What was she talking about? I didn't say anything.

"That's just something people used to say," she explained. "It's like a joke -- see? That's the kind of name 'Mabel' is -- a barmaid's name! That's why I like it! Never mind about my given name. Never liked it. Just call me Mabel!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Jesus, you're so damned polite! Can't you just talk to me like a person? 'Yes ma'am!, Yes ma'am!' you sound like a house servant!... I bet you don't say 'yes, ma'am' to Tessie when she asks you whether you want her to suck your fligger!"

I tried to just absorb that one... My 'fligger, ' yet! "... Now, you don't know that, for sure, Mabel," I answered, finally. "Maybe I get off, saying 'yes ma'am' to her, when my -- what did you call it?... My 'fligger'?... is in her mouth!"

She cackled like a fat hen. "That's more like it! I always knew you could talk right out, plain! You were always such a gentleman, on the golf course! But when I played with younger women, I'd catch you, once in awhile, stealing a little look at 'em! And I'd think, 'he's a nice, well-brought-up boy, and all, but I'll bet he's a little Devil, in the bed!"

"By the way, Mabel, I've wanted to thank you -- ever since last summer -- for sending Tess to me at the club, and recommending me to her as a caddy."

"It come out just the way I hoped it would," she said.

"Yes. We... got along well, right from the start."

"You're a good caddy. But that's not what I meant! I was hoping all the time that Tessie would like you; as a man, I mean. She was mixed up with that Hal person, on and off, for years. I just couldn't stand that young man!"

"He speaks very highly of you, Mabel," I told her, with mock seriousness.

"Really? He does?"

"I'm only teasing you, Mabe - Babe. I've never spoken to Hal -- about you, or about anything else. But I'm with you... I can't stand him, either!"

"Because he was fucking Tess, you mean."

"Umm. Yeah. That's... what I mean."

"Well, at least you know she likes you better!... Right?"

"So far, so good, yeah."

We stopped for a late lunch at a Cracker Barrel restaurant. I helped 'Mabel' down from the RV and she looked over the big vehicle's exterior thoroughly. "I like this thing!" she said. "It's fun to ride in."

"You should check out the interior," I told her. It's a very pleasant place to spend leisure time.

When we re-boarded the RV after lunch, she did just as I suggested. She strolled around the interior, touching everything, examining the neat rows of microwave dinners in the freezer, the wine cooler, and the little extra bedroom off to one side.