“Look, you can talk all you want, Mr. Strauss,” said Odelia, “but the fact of the matter is that your wife is very upset with you right now, and that she doesn’t want anything to do with you. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can both move on.”
“But I don’t want to move on!” suddenly Carl burst out. It was the first time he’d allowed an outburst like that, and for a moment the mask slipped and the angry and frustrated individual underneath showed. But then he quickly composed himself again. He ducked down behind a bush and picked up his ball. “Well, there you are, you little devil,” he said, and briskly walked back to the green, where he proceeded to place the ball down, give it a good whack with his club, and watch it plunge into the lake. He heaved a deep sigh, then said, “Looks like this isn’t my day.”
“So are you going to grant your wife her divorce?” asked Odelia.
Carl turned to her, an enigmatic smile on his face.“Erica and I are meant to be together, Miss Poole. And a love like that? That once-in-a-lifetime bond? You don’t break that up. So no, I’ll never divorce Erica, and if she tries to divorce me, I’ll fight her with everything I’ve got. In fact I’ll fight her till my dying breath. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Crystal,” said Odelia.
Just then, I suddenly had the feeling we were being watched. My skin crawled, and a shiver ran down my spine. But as I looked around, I couldn’t see anyone. There was just me and Dooley, Carl and Odelia, and his caddy, a young man who hadn’t spoken a word, and whose sole purpose seemed to be to carry Carl’s bag of clubs around all day. A sad life, I would have thought, and not unlike the life of a vassal carrying his lord’s sword, back in the day when knights were the cat’s meow and swords were the cat’s whiskers.
“He’s going to attack!” suddenly Dooley cried, and before I could stop him, he shot forward and launched himself in the direction of the famous golf pro. Lucky for him, just in that moment Carl bent down to tie a shoelace, and Dooley flew right over his head, then landed a few feet beyond hisintended target.
“Dooley!” Odelia snapped. “What did I tell you?”
When Carl looked up, and saw the small gray ragamuffin, he frowned.“Cats,” he growled, his charming demeanor suddenly history. “I hate cats. They destroy the green.”
“Dooley, get back here!” I hissed as Carl took a firmer grip on his golf club, and seemed ready to take a good whack at my friend.
“Stay back, Miss Poole,” the golf pro said. “I’ll deal with this vile pest!”
“No!” said Odelia.
“Don’t be afraid,” Carl assured her. “I’ve dealt with the terrible beasts before. I never miss!” And to show her he meant what he said, he took a swing at a cowering Dooley!
“Stop it!” Odelia cried. “That’s my cat!”
Dooley, of course, wasn’t taking this kind of treatment lying down. When that club started to shift in his direction with deadly force, he scooted for cover, and quickly disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Your cat? But cats aren’t allowed on the links,” Carl pointed out, looking around for Dooley but failing to find him. And then of course he spotted me! “There’s another one!” he bellowed. “Stay back, Miss Poole! I’ll fix him for you! Stay still, you horrible beast!”
“No! He’s also mine!”
Carl stared at our human.“You brought two cats onto the links?”
Odelia shrugged, looking a little shamefaced now.“They like to follow me around.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Carl, looking annoyed. He frowned at me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of this fat orange one for you? He looks nasty.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Hey, buddy,” I said, taking a step forward. “First of all, I’m blorange, not orange. And secondly, I’m not fat, I’m big-boned.”
“And at least Max is not a sex maniac like you!” Dooley piped up from his hiding place in the brush, then quickly ducked his head down again.
“They seem to be very feisty animals,” said Carl, still holding onto his club, and clearly not having made up his mind whether to hit us and bury us right there or to leave us be. “Look, just tell my wife that next time she sends an emissary to argue for a divorce, she better send me someone who doesn’t think it’s a good idea to bring two cats onto the green,” said Carl, his charming demeanor a thing of the past. “I stand by my decision not to grant Erica her stupid divorce, and also, I don’t think you’re welcome here anymore, Miss Odelia Poole. And I’ll convey that thought to the club’s management.” He shook his head. “Bringing cats in here. Of all the crazy stunts…” And then he walked away.
And as we watched him stalk off, followed at a little distance by his profusely sweating caddy, carrying that bulky bag of clubs, it was obvious that Odelia’s mission was a bust. But it could have been a lot worse: it could have been fatal for Dooley and me!
6
“Look, It’s Odelia,” said Scarlett. She thought she’d noticed her friend’s granddaughter before, but hadn’t been sure it was her. Now, though, there was no question: Odelia was one or two holes ahead of them.
“She’s talking to that horrible Carl Strauss,” Vesta grumbled. “We should warn her about that guy. He’s got a reputation for being handsy.”
“I think Carl’s reputation precedes him,” said Scarlett. “Besides, there’s no way Odelia would ever get involved with a guy like that.”
“She better not. If she does, she’s a fool.”
Odelia and Chase had recently tied the knot, and never a more happy couple had presented itself to Scarlett. She’d never been married herself, of course, not being out of her mind, but Vesta had, and obviously it hadn’t become her. Marriage was clearly a good idea for Odelia, but it wasn’t for everyone.
“If he lays so much as a finger on her,” said Vesta, “I’ll…”
“You’ll do what? Odelia is old enough to take care of herself. Besides, she has Max and Dooley with her. And I’m pretty sure that if Carl tries any of his funny business, they’ll scratch that man up so bad he won’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore.”
“Yeah, that’s one thing people underestimate about cats: they think they are these cute and cuddly creatures, but they can turn vicious if you rub them the wrong way.”
“So what were you telling me?” asked Scarlett as she nudged the ball gently in the direction of the hole which was located somewhere beyond the horizon. At this rate it would probably take her another twenty strokes to arrive where she was supposed to.
“Well, I got this great idea for the house but of course my family want none of it as usual.”
“What great idea?” asked Scarlett, tongue between her teeth as she tried to measure the distance she still had to go. She was dressed the way she thought a true golfer should be dressed: white short skirt, white crop top and white sneakers. Vesta had already told her she’d dressed for tennis,not golf, but she knew never to take advice from her friend when it came to what clothes to wear.
“I want to build an extra couple of floors on top of the house, figuring it won’t cost us a lot extra, and we can rent them out as apartments or studios and make an extra buck.”
“Pretty sure you need a permit for that.”
“Not you, too!”
“It’s a fact, Vesta. Wanna build? Gotta get a permit.”
“Okay, so what if I get a permit. Then can I have my extra floors?”
“Do you have permission from the owners—Marge and Tex?”
“I’m an owner.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’ve lived there long enough. Pretty sure that after a while you automatically become an owner. It’s the law.”