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Ted leaned back in his chair, as relaxed as ever. “We’re not hampered by a lot of bureaucracy, that’s for sure. People around here don’t see the sense in all kinds of red tape. If we want to make something happen, we go ahead and do it.”
Spence smiled at Meg. “I think I’m about to hear a paid political announcement.”
It was long past time. She was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up in her choir loft and go to sleep. After her disastrous caddying round, she’d spent the rest of the day on the drink cart. Unfortunately, her immediate boss was a stoner kid with minimal communication skills and no idea how her predecessor had set up the beverages. How was she to know that the club’s female golfers were addicted to diet Arizona iced tea and got huffy if it wasn’t waiting for them by the fourteenth tee? Still, that hadn’t been as bad as running out of Bud Light. In a curious case of mass self-delusion, the club’s overweight male golfers seemed to have concluded the word light meant they could drink twice as much. Their bellies should have pointed out their faulty reasoning, but apparently not.
The most surprising part of today, however, was how much she hadn’t hated it. She should have detested working at a country club, but she loved being outside, even if she wasn’t allowed to drive all over the course the way she wanted and had to stay parked at either the fifth or fourteenth tee. Not getting fired was a bonus.
Spence tried to sneak a surreptitious look down the top she’d fashioned from one length of the rehearsal-dinner silk wrap she now wore with jeans. All evening, he’d been touching her, tracing a bone on her wrist, caressing her shoulder, the small of her back, feigning curiosity over her earrings as an excuse to rub her lobe. Ted had taken in every touch and, for the first time since they’d met, seemed happy she was around. Spence leaned in too close. “Here’s my dilemma, Miz Meg.”
She edged nearer Kenny, something she’d been doing all evening until she was practically in his lap. He seemed oblivious, apparently so used to women hitting on him that it no longer registered. But Ted was registering, and he wanted her to stay put, right where Skipjack could paw her. Since his easy smile never changed, she didn’t know how she knew this, but she did, and the next time she got him alone, she intended to tell him to add “pimp” to his big, impressive résumé.
Spence toyed with her fingers. “I’m looking at two sweet pieces of property—one on the outskirts
of San Antone, a city that’s a hotbed of commercial activity. The other in the middle of nowhere.”
Ted hated cat-and-mouse games. She knew because he leaned farther back in his chair, as unruffled as a man could be. “The most beautiful part of nowhere anybody’s ever seen,” he said.
And one they wanted to destroy with a hotel, condos, manicured fairways, and pristine greens.
“Don’t forget there’s a landing strip not twenty miles out of town.” Kenny fingered his cell.
“But not much else to speak of,” Spence said. “No upscale boutiques for the ladies. No nightclubs or fine dining.”
Skeet scratched his jaw, his nails rasping over the graying stubble. “I don’t see that’s much of a disadvantage. All it means is people’ll spend more money at your resort.”
“When they’re not coming into Wynette to get their fix of small-town Americana,” Ted said. “The Roustabout, for example. This is the real thing—no phonied-up national franchise with mass-produced steer horns hanging on the wall. We all know how much rich people appreciate authenticity.”
An interesting observation coming from a multimillionaire. It occurred to her that everybody at this table was filthy rich except her. Even Skeet Cooper must have a couple of million tucked away from all the prize money he’d earned caddying for Dallie.
Spence curled his hand over Meg’s wrist. “Let’s dance, Miz Meg. I need to work off my dinner.”
She didn’t want to dance with him, and she extracted her hand with the excuse of reaching for her napkin. “I don’t understand exactly why you’re so eager to build a resort. You’re already the head of a big company. Why make your life more complicated?”
“Some things a man’s destined to do.” It sounded like a line from one of her father’s worst movies. “You ever heard of a guy named Herb Kohler?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Kohler Company. Plumbing. My biggest rival.”
She didn’t pay much attention to bathroom fixtures, but even she’d heard of Kohler, and she nodded.
“Herb owns the American Club in Kohler, Wisconsin, along with four of the Midwest’s best golf courses. Each room at the American Club is outfitted with the latest plumbing fixtures. There’s even a plumbing museum. Every year the place is top ranked.”
“Herb Kohler’s an important man,” Ted said with such a lack of guile that she nearly rolled her eyes. Was she the only person who saw through him? “He sure has made himself a legend in the golfing world.”
And Spencer Skipjack wanted to outdo his rival. That’s why building this resort was so important to him.
“It’s too bad Herb didn’t build his place somewhere people could play year-round,” Dallie said. “Wisconsin’s a damn cold state.”
“The reason I was smart enough to choose Texas,” Skipjack said. “I came down here a lot from Indiana when I was a kid to visit my mother’s family. I’ve always felt at home in the Lone Star State. More Texan than Hoosier.” He turned his attention back to Meg. “Wherever I build, you be sure and tell your father he’s invited to play anytime as my guest.”
“I’ll do that.” Her athletic father still loved basketball, and thanks to her mother, now rode horseback for pleasure, but she couldn’t imagine him swinging a golf club.
She’d had separate phone conversations with both of her parents today, but instead of begging them to send money, she’d told them that she’d gotten a great job in hospitality at an important Texas country club. Although she didn’t say she was the activities coordinator, neither did she correct her mother when she came to that conclusion and said how wonderful it was Meg had finally found a useful outlet for her natural creativity. Her dad was just happy she had a job.
She couldn’t keep quiet about this any longer. “Have any of you thought about leaving that land alone? I mean, does the world really need another golf course eating up more of our natural resources?”
Ted’s frown was almost imperceptible. “Recreational green spaces keep people healthy.”
