23. Jake
23
JAKE
I f there was ever a day I needed to clear my head, it was today. I dreaded the thought of tonight of Lydia going to the Mistletoe Mania Festival with Max. I stayed up all night wondering what I should’ve done differently. It all came back to the same thing - I should have spoken up sooner. The blame was solely on me.
I walked into the clubhouse and behind the counter was one of my old high school buddies, Ryan Phillips. His family owned the Blue Ridge Country Club. If it weren’t for him being a good friend, I doubt I could’ve afforded to play golf as much as I did as a kid. My family had no money to pay the country club fees. Guess you could say his parents helped fund my golf career. I owed them a lot.
“Well, if it isn’t the infamous Jake Reynolds!” Ryan shouted.
Luckily, we were the only ones in the clubhouse, besides a woman so short I could only see the red visor on top of her dark brown hair.
Ryan hurried over and held out his hand. “It’s so good to see you, man. You in town for the holidays?”
Ryan looked the same as he did in high school, only his blond hair was a little thinner. His father went bald at a young age so all our friends used to give him hell because of it, saying he would follow suit.
“I’m in town for good,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Just bought a house.”
He let my hand go and patted my shoulder. “Congrats, brother. Does that mean you’ll be gracing us with your presence every so often?”
I laughed. “It does. I’m looking forward to playing the mountain course. It’s been a long time.”
Ryan snorted. “That it has. It’ll be good to have you back. We’ll have to get all the guys from high school together.”
“I’d like that.”
He waved for me to follow him to the desk. “Your tee time is next, after those two gentlemen out there,” he said, pointing out the window. “And you know the drill, just pick which cart you want when you get outside. The keys will be in them.”
I pulled out my wallet and held out my credit card. Ryan shook his head and smiled. “Your money’s no good here.”
“Please,” I said, setting it on the counter before him. “I need to pay my dues. Without you and your family, I wouldn’t be as good a player as I am.”
Ryan chuckled. “Oh, yes, you would. You have a talent for playing golf, Jake. That’s all you.”
He tried to hand me my card back and I pushed it away. “If you don’t let me pay, I won’t come back. I don’t deserve to get anything free.”
“I’ll take his free spot,” a lady called out. I looked over to see the woman in the red visor coming our way, dressed in a red sweater and black pants. She walked up to the counter and smiled at Ryan. “I’m just kidding, young man. I want to pay for my tee time.”
She looked to be in her late fifties with curly brown hair and an angelic face. Her presence reminded me of my grandmother when she was alive; I felt at ease around her for some reason. She had a small red fanny pack around her waist and reached in to pull out her money.
“You know what,” I said, holding a hand out to stop her. “I’d like to pay for it. Is there someone else joining you?”
There was a sadness to her smile. “Not today. I’m playing solo.”
I turned to Ryan. “Charge hers to my card.”
He did as I said and gave me my card back. “Mrs. Grant, your tee time is right after Jake’s,” Ryan told her.
The lady patted my arm. “Thank you, sweetheart. That was very kind of you.”
“No problem.” I glanced down at her sweater, which had a sprig of mistletoe wrapped in a silvery glitter ribbon. It looked exactly like the mistletoe Lydia had started wearing.
“I know someone who wears mistletoe just like that,” I stated, nodding at hers.
The lady touched hers and smiled. “Mistletoe is magical. I love wearing it around the holidays.” She giggled and waved a hand around the room. “I mean, I did get a free round of golf, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” I chuckled. “Maybe you can give me some of your luck? I kind of need it.”
She patted my hand again. “Uh-oh. Are you experiencing the holiday blues? You can tell me about it.”
“Just a little,” I confessed. I glanced at my watch; my tee time was coming up in two minutes. “If you want to hear about it, you can partner up with me. There’s no reason for us to play alone, right?”
Her face brightened. “I would love that. I’ve never played golf with a pro before.”
“How did you know I was a pro?” I asked.
She pursed her lips. “I do watch TV, and I might indulge in a little celebrity gossip every now and again. Needless to say, I recognized you.”
Ryan threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I keep waiting for the paparazzi to show up.”
I rolled my eyes. “They’re not coming here. I’m boring to them right now.”
The lady blew out a sigh. “That’s a good thing.”
“I agree,” I said.
Ryan flourished a hand toward the door. “You two are up now. Have fun out there. And Jake, call me soon and we’ll get the guys together.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The lady and I walked outside, and I extended a hand. “I know you know who I am, but I’m Jake Reynolds.”
She clutched my hand and shook. “Margaret Grant. I’m honored to be here with you today.”
Her golf clubs were just outside the door, so I secured them into a cart along with mine. “Do you play golf often?”
Margaret snickered and hopped in the cart. “Not really. I just had the urge to play today.”
I drove us to the first tee box and got out. It’d been a few weeks since I’d been on any golf course, but it felt like coming home when I took my first swing. Being on the course was heaven to me. My ball went straight down the fairway.
“Very nice, Jake,” Margaret praised. “Don’t laugh when I hit mine into the sand trap.”
I stopped at the women’s tee box, and she went out there with her driver. Her form was a little unorthodox, and her swing was unlike anything I’d ever seen, but she hit the ball, and it sailed through the air . . . right into a sand trap.
“Told you,” she said, giggling.
We rode down to the sand trap, and she trudged into it. With one fluid swing, she hit it out, sand flying everywhere. It stopped rolling just a few feet from the hole. I walked over to my ball which was right by the green, while she returned to the golf cart. I tapped it gently with my putting wedge, and it rolled across the green, sinking right into the hole. Birdie .
Margaret cheered from the golf cart. “I can see why you’re one of the best. Nice shot.”
“Thanks.” I hopped back in the cart and drove us around to the other side of the green so she could finish her putt.
“Tell me, why are you experiencing the holiday blues?” Margaret asked, fetching her putter.
We walked out onto the green together, and I reached into the hole to grab my ball. “Let’s just say I’m in love with someone, and I don’t know if she loves me back.”
“Why wouldn’t she? From my first impression of you, I’d say you’re an amazing catch.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling at her. “Lydia and I have been friends for almost all our lives. We grew up together. She knows me better than anyone and I thought I knew the same about her. But recently, she hasn’t opened up to me like she has before. I don’t know what she’s thinking.”
Margaret giggled. “Most men wouldn’t want to know what we women think about.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You may be right.”
After she sank her putt, we drove down the cart path to the next hole.
“I heard about the mistletoe festival tonight,” Margaret said as I hopped out of the cart to grab my driver.
A groan rumbled from my chest. “Yeah, I know.”
“Are you going?” she asked.
I walked over to my tee box and set up my ball. “I think I’m going to pass on it.”
“Is that because Lydia will be there?”
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I averted my gaze to the fairway and huffed. “Yep. She’s going with the other guy. I was hoping she would go with me, but . . .”
“If you really love this woman, don’t let her slip away.”
I turned my focus back to Margaret. “What if she doesn’t choose me? What happens then?”
She smiled sadly. “Then you find someone who does choose you. But I have a feeling this Lydia wants to be with you.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just do. Call it a Christmas magic sense. I have a knack for it.”
Margaret was a woman who did seem wise beyond her years. A part of me wanted to believe in Christmas magic.
“I sure hope you’re right.” I moved over to my ball and got into position. There was something in Margaret’s words that rang true, like I could feel it within me. But I was also reluctant to allow myself to be hopeful.
I just hoped Lydia made the right choice.