Chapter 6: Getting to the End Game

Catherine would be back at Ghost Creek the next day, playing a practice round for a local tournament that she had entered. The prize money wasn't tour quality. It was the competition that she craved. It was a chance to show herself that she still had the ability to compete. She promised to call me and let me know how she did. In turn, I told her I probably would have heard from Norman Fears by then so I'd let her know that as well.

I had dinner at a chain restaurant that evening, trying something a little different than meat and potatoes once more. The seafood platter looked good so I ordered that along with a beer. When I was done I went back to my room and went over my notes from today's events. Things were going along just the way I hoped they would.

I wondered about Catherine. My decision to include her seemed like a polite gesture at first, since she had led me to Bending Willows. But afterward I realized she was easy to be with, bright and a good foil for my ego. She asked the right questions and forced me to think about my reasons and actions. Besides all that she was attractive to be with and I was still craving some companionship, even if this wasn't the intimate kind.

Why was I so sure I was right about buying this course? Was I walking into a trap? Was I kidding myself that this derelict place had potential? Was I moving too fast? I'd pretty much convinced myself that I was in control and everything was going just the way I wanted it to. I was so sure ... wasn't I?

Shit, this was just one more risk, that's all. That's what I did for a living, take risks. Make deals, put enemies together and have them work side-by-side, make little companies into bigger ones, make little men into bigger men. It was all a gamble. Roll the dice and see what came up. Well ... maybe load the dice in my favor now and then. That's what they paid me for. That's what I was good at. Now ... this time ... it's just for me. The risk and reward was all on me. Isn't that what I wanted?

Sleep came fitfully that night. I was rushing into a venture that didn't yet have a form or a decent business plan. I'd never have put up with that in my old job so why was I allowing it to happen now? I tossed and turned until I dozed off, only to wake a couple of hours later with my mind still working full speed.

I got up at five thirty, knowing I wouldn't go back to sleep. I pulled on a pair of running shorts, a floppy-loose t-shirt, my running shoes and headed for the exercise room. I used my room card to get in, flicked on the lights and mounted a stationary bike. I was ignoring my fitness again and that had to stop. It was time to get back into a routine.

I rode the bike for twenty minutes and according to the little computer, I traveled over five miles and burned a hundred-and-seventy calories. My legs were burning a bit but it could have been worse. I sat on the rowing machine and spent the next ten minutes pulling at a steady thirty per minute at medium resistance. I took a rest, wiped the sweat off my face and neck with a towel, and took a long drink of water from the bottle I'd brought from the room. Finally, I pulled a hundred pounds on the Nautilus twenty times and called it a workout.

I'd probably pay for my over-exuberance later that morning but I had to start somewhere. A week of this routine would put an end to the pains in all likelihood. I just had to get back into the habit. It was also time to think about my diet. Restaurant food was no recipe for fitness or good health, despite what the menu claimed. It was time to get back to some good habits instead of my collection of bad ones.

I showered and dressed in what had become my latest uniform: polo shirt, khakis, loafers and, when necessary, a blazer. I thought maybe it was time to find somewhere else to stay. I went down for the buffet breakfast and avoided the eggs, sausage and hash browns, settling for juice, dry cereal, a bran muffin, and coffee. My legs were telling me that perhaps I'd overdone it this morning, but nothing I couldn't live with.

I called Catherine and found her on the sixth tee, waiting for the group ahead.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Pretty good, actually. I hope I can keep it up for the tournament."

"I'm sure you will. I've seen your game. You'll be fine."

"Thanks. Is that why you called?"

"No ... I just wanted to make sure you had my cell phone number."

"No problem, I've got caller ID and I'll save it right away. In the meantime I've got to go. Talk to you later," she said, ending the call before I could wish her good luck. Damn.

I called John Fortrand and gave him my cell number and he made a note of it. Next it was Norman Fears.

"Mr. Fears, I called to let you know my cell number. I can give it to you, if you like."

"Yes, thank you. I wanted to call you anyway. I was wondering if you had decided to put in a bid on the Bending Willows property?"

"I probably will but I haven't had the opportunity to get all the information I need to make an appropriate offer. I should have it by the end of the week however," I said, grinning to myself.

"I'm not sure I can guarantee that the property will still be available then, Mr. Monahan. Are you sure you can't provide a bid sooner than that?"

"I have to do my due diligence, sir. That's my protection as I'm sure you realize. I'll do what I can to get the package ready as soon as possible. That's the best I can offer. If you do have a solid offer in the meantime I'll understand if you choose to accept it. No hard feelings."

"I see. Well, do what you can to prepare something as soon as you are able and I'll try and hold off the other bids. I'll look forward to hearing for you."

We signed off and I smirked as I hung up. There it was right in front of him. If he really did have another hot offer it would be gone by the weekend. But I was dead certain he didn't and his game was as transparent as glass. I'd know soon enough.

Catherine phoned just after three o'clock.

"Hi, Catherine. How did it go?"

"Good and bad, Terry. I shot one under par and I felt good. I'm ready for tomorrow. Unfortunately, my caddy had an accident and sprained his ankle. I don't have anyone to replace him."

"Is there no one else who can take his place?" I asked in ignorance.

"Not really. I could hire some kid, but I wouldn't have anyone who knew anything about my game or me for that matter. It wouldn't work out."

"Well," I said, thinking fast. "I don't see any alternative then. I'll have to caddy for you."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes ... absolutely. First of all we know each other ... at least a little bit. And, I've played two games with you which gives me some clue about your game. On top of that, I have the time and the willingness to do it. So ... what do you say?"

"Are you sure about this, Terry?"

"Damn sure. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Uhhm ... eight o'clock I guess. My tee time is ten-oh-eight. I want to spend a few minutes on the practice tee."

"Great ... this is really going to be interesting. I'm looking forward to it."

"Are you really sure about this?" she asked again.

"For Pete's sake, Catherine, I said I would and I meant it," I said, feigning irritation.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're hired," she laughed.

"Good, that's settled then. I'm going to be a big help, I promise."

"I'm sure you will be. I'll see you in the morning. Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. Bye."

"Bye. Get some rest. Take care."

I hung up with a very good feeling about tomorrow. I was looking forward to my first caddying experience and it would be with Catherine, someone I genuinely liked being with.

I stopped at the shopping centre grocery store and picked up some Sushi and noodle take-out, a bottle of orange juice, a couple of bananas and a package of English muffins. That would look after tonight's meal and tomorrow's breakfast. I headed back to the Embassy Suites, knowing my room had a microwave for the noodles and a small refrigerator to keep the Sushi.

I watched some TV in the evening and went to bed early, just after ten. I slept well, unlike the night before. I woke at my usual time, six, and headed down to the exercise room. I repeated my exercises from the day before, surprisingly without any after effects from my efforts of either day. Perhaps I wasn't in as bad a shape as I had thought.

Catherine looked terrific in her outfit for the first round today when I picked her up. A pale blue top, white shorts, long white socks and white shoes. She had a dark blue visor that she wore only when playing. Her bag was fairly big but I'd seen bigger and when I hefted it into the Audi I didn't think it would cause me any problems carrying it.

When we got to the course Catherine went through her routine. She checked her bag for the number of clubs and made sure she had her rain gear even if it didn't look like rain today. She counted the dozen or so balls that had been marked with her distinctive sign. The mark was a little :-) "smiley face" that I assumed was unique to her. I was impressed that she was thorough and very dedicated to her pre-game routine.

Next was the practice range. She didn't have to buy any balls ... they were supplied for the competitors. The course was closed to all but the players. I watched her go through most of the clubs in her bag, carefully setting up and striking each ball with a purpose. I saw her work on shaping shots to show a draw or occasionally a fade. As I stood there, I realized she had all the skills. Now it would be down to competitive ambition and nerves.

We reported to the starter well in advance of her tee time, making sure they were aware she was on the premises. She would be playing in a threesome and while I didn't recognize the name of her competitors, she knew them and wasn't concerned. I could see her beginning to focus on her game and hers alone. It was that competitive instinct that took over with true athletes and it was something I had seen before in businessmen. I was among them, I was told.

When we were called to the tee, I handed her the driver. "Good luck. I think you're going to do well today."

She smiled back at me but said nothing. She was already in her zone.

She hit her first drive and it was almost a replica of the drive she hit when I first played this course with her. She wasn't the longest but it was in perfect position for her second shot. Again, her second was just like the one I remembered from a few days ago. Right at the pin and short, but rolling up within ten feet for a birdie try.

I was tempted to applaud but remembered my role and gave her a big smile and a "lovely shot" murmured as I handed her the putter. I got a nice smile in return. She stood over the putt after having surveyed the break, pulled the club back and smoothly stroked through. The ball tracked unerringly into the center of the cup. She was one under after one. A perfect start.

By the end of the round Catherine was two under par, with three birdies and one bogey. Her putting had saved her from any more bogeys and her drives and mid-irons had kept her on or near the green. When I checked the card, she had hit ten of thirteen fairways and those she missed were in the first cut of rough. She hit fourteen of eighteen greens in regulation, so all in all, it was a very well played round. When I checked the leader board she was in third, tied with four other golfers.

"I'm really impressed, Catherine. You played that round perfectly. You keep doing that and you'll be in contention for the win all the way."

"Yes, thanks, Terry," she smiled as we enjoyed a drink after the game. "I felt good today. Very few missed shots and made a lot of putts. I'd be happy with three rounds like that. How did you make out? It looked like that bag was getting pretty heavy near the end of the game."

"I've developed a new respect for professional caddies," I admitted. "I'm just glad it wasn't a hot, humid day. That would have been tough. We were out there almost five hours."

"You sure you still want to do this?" she grinned.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I forgot to ask you. What have you heard from Norman Fears?"

"Nothing. I called him yesterday and gave him my new cell number. He started giving me the usual guff about not being able to hold off the other bidders much longer and I told him that if I couldn't get my bid in soon to go ahead and accept the best other bid. I told him I wouldn't hold that against him."

"Whoa, you do like to live on the edge, don't you?"

"I'm pretty much certain he doesn't have any other bids. Now the ball's in his court. Let's see how he responds. He should be getting fairly antsy by now, especially since I've had my phone turned off all day," I smiled, pulling it out of my pocket and turning it on.

"Oh look ... a message from Mr. Fears. I wonder what that's about," I laughed.

Catherine was shaking her head but had a smile on her lips at the same time. I think she was enjoying this as much as I was.

"Are you going to call him?"

"Yes indeed. It's Friday afternoon and it wouldn't be polite to let him sit in ignorance for the whole weekend."

I punched in his number and listened. It was picked up after two rings.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fears. It's Terry Monahan. I'm sure I know why you are calling. I'm afraid I won't have my bid ready until Monday morning. I've taken on another project that is keeping me occupied today and through the weekend. I'm awfully sorry about that. I'll understand if you choose to go ahead with someone else."

"This really is inconvenient, Mr. Monahan. I've made a special effort to give you additional time and you've failed to make each extension. Are you positive this time that you will have a proposal on Monday morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Fears, I am positive. How about if we meet at ten o'clock and we can present our proposal?"

"Very well, Mr. Monahan, but this is the last extension I can possibly grant. Please do not fail to meet this deadline."

"I promise I'll have my proposal to you at ten o'clock this coming Monday morning. You have my solemn word, sir."

"Very well, I'll see you then. Good day, Mr. Monahan."

"Good day, Mr. Fears, and have a good weekend," I finished, snapping the phone closed. I had a smile on my face. Another two days he'd have to sweat it out. Perfect!

"If you're right, he must be going crazy by now," Catherine laughed.

"Oh ... I hope so. He only dislikes me now. By late Monday morning he's going to hate me."

Catherine was shaking her head in wonder. "I'm sure glad I'm on your side."

I gave her a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're on my side too."

Catherine had showered and changed before we sat down so with the clubs in my car we headed back to Lake Oswego to drop her off at her apartment. I thought about inviting her to dinner but she was concentrating on this tournament and I felt I would be smart to leave the socializing until after it was over.

Saturday dawned cloudy, cool and windy. Catherine chose brown slacks, brown shoes, a light tan sweater and a nylon shell to begin with. As she warmed up, I could see that she wasn't quite as sharp as she was yesterday but I said nothing. It wasn't my place to give her advice or upset her routine. I was here to carry her bag and give her encouragement.

The weather had a big effect on the scoreboard that day. The wind was unpredictable as it blew among the trees. It was generally from the southeast, but it would swirl through the big evergreens causing high shots to drift off line, sometimes quite dramatically.

If Catherine had any advantage it was her course knowledge and experience playing in all kinds of weather here and on the pro tour. Just the same, she fought the elements all day and ended up two over for the round and even for the tournament. Any other day that would have put her well back but no one was able to rise to the occasion and she was still in fourth place, just three strokes back.

"You didn't have much fun out there today," I remarked as we shared a drink afterwards.

"I'm not fond of playing in windy conditions. I have a hell of a time judging my approach shots because I hit the ball high. A couple of times I was tempted to choke down on a five iron and run the ball up, but I chickened out and stuck with what I was used to."

"You hit most of your fairways again today so the wind didn't bother your drives as much. You didn't hit as many greens in regulation as you did yesterday. You had to do a lot of scrambling to save par. I think you only had a couple of decent birdie opportunities all day. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

"It will need to be. I won't win playing like I did today. I'm three down as it is, so I need a hot round and I need the other girls to weaken. Anyway," she smiled, "that's my plan and I'm sticking to it."

I gave her a big smile and patted her hand. I liked her attitude and I was really enjoying being with her. I felt a little stronger on the bag today. I was getting my legs back and the cooler weather had been a help in keeping me from fatigue.

The wind dropped overnight and when I picked Catherine up, she was back to wearing shorts with a light sweater as on the day before. The shell was in her bag if needed. A few clouds looked like they would burn off as the day went on and it should warm up to seasonal temperatures, the mid-to-high sixties.

Our tee time was later since we were in the next to last group. It would be almost noon by the time we teed off. I bought some sandwiches and water at the restaurant and packed them in the bag. Even if Catherine didn't want to eat, I would. It was going to be a long, tense day, something I hadn't experienced before at this close range. I was nervous and I thought Catherine would be too, but she didn't show it. She looked as calm and focused as she always did.

On the practice tee she was back to hitting those nice, crisp shots I'd seen on Friday. If she kept that up she'd have a good chance to compete for the win. She spent a bit of extra time around the putting and chipping green, getting used to reading the greens. The holes would be in their third different location today, so every putt would be from a different perspective.

Finally, our group was called and we moved onto the tee. Catherine hit second and launched a nice solid drive that didn't slide back toward the middle and ended up in the first cut of rough on the right side about two-seventy out. Not a problem from what I could see.

When she hit her second shot, a solid nine iron, it flew off the club face, landing just behind the pin to the right but rolling away and off the back of the green. She had an improbable birdie chance from there. I watched her but she didn't portray any emotion that I could see. She didn't want to give anything away to her opponents.

That bit of practice on the chipping area paid off as she rolled as lovely, low, seven iron chip down the slope stopping two feet past the pin. It was almost a tap-in for par. Her opponents parred as well and nothing had changed. I looked back up the fairway and saw one of the penultimate group was well off the fairway with a very difficult shot to the green. I don't think Catherine noticed but I would be watching them and, when we could see it, the leader board.

By the turn, Catherine was two under for the round and the tournament and could have been four under with a bit of luck on the greens. She had lipped out two ten-foot attempts. She was making everything else inside that distance. I looked at the leader board and saw that one of her competitors had fallen away, now one over par for the tournament. One down, two to go. The others were just as they had started, so at this point Catherine had gained two strokes and was only one behind.

I know she was aware of her position but you couldn't tell anything from her expression and she said absolutely nothing to me about it. She was trying hard to keep herself on an even keel and just play her game. So far it was working.

I offered her a sandwich as we waited on the eleventh tee and she accepted a half along with a water bottle. The sky had broken and we were in sunshine with the temperature rising. She had removed her sweater and had taken a few practice swings to get used to the new feeling. I was admiring her very feminine figure as she did so, thinking just how attractive this woman was.

On the back nine we had a couple of television cameras following the last three groups. They were from local TV stations as this tournament wasn't being broadcast live. The marshals were busy keeping them from getting in the way or distracting the golfers. It didn't look like either cameraman had any experience shooting a golf tournament. Just the same, if it bothered Catherine or her opponents, it didn't show.

The gallery was sparse up until the fourteenth hole. It was a long par three, listed at two-oh-nine. I assumed Catherine would hit a five wood but she asked for her hybrid three. I almost said something about it not being enough club but held my tongue. This was her game not mine and I was in no position to judge. When I looked more carefully, I saw a downhill shot with only one long trap along the left side of the green. This shouldn't be too difficult.

The pin was tight to the left side so any errant shot to the left would likely end up in the trap, or worse, in a depression left of the trap. The sensible shot was to the middle of the green. Catherine still held the honor and set up what looked like a straight shot at the center of the green. Even if it wasn't enough club she would have a wide open chip to the pin. Probably a safe shot then. What did I know?

As usual, her shot lifted high into the blue sky above the trees then began to turn left. Not a great deal ... just enough that when it landed on the front of the green it ran up toward the pin, stopping fifteen feet short and slightly to the right. Some safety shot. I just shook my head. It was her best shot of the day in my opinion. She must have thought so too because for the first time she had a smile as I exchanged her hybrid for the putter.