Page 49 of A Summer Mismatch
Horacesteppedoutonthe green early Saturday morning. He loved golfing alone, before the crowds came out. It gave him time with his thoughts. He breathed in the scent of fresh-cut grass deeply, satisfied with the ever-present tang of salty ocean too.
He had always loved living by the ocean. First, in California. And then in Florida, so he could retire near his daughter and grandchildren. The salt was a part of his blood by now.
He teed up his ball and picked out the perfect club to take it over the mound. The rising sun heated up the damp grass just enough for a light mist to form a few inches above the ground. Mystical and perfect for a challenge. He calculated how hard he’d have to hit the ball, and narrowed his eyes as he got into his swinging stance.
He pulled the club back and was swinging it in a perfect arc toward the ball. This one was going to land just right.
“Horace!” an irritated voice bellowed.
Startled, Horace sent his ball careening wildly down the hill. Couldn’t a man get any peace out here? It was five-thirty on a Saturday morning! Even Winnie was still sleeping, and he hadn’t known a more consistently early-riser or harder worker in his life than his wife.
“What?” he snapped at Smitty Byrd.
“We need to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” Horace picked up his clubs and stalked down the hill to find his ball. Because of the mist, it was nearly impossible to see where it went. He might have to call that one a loss. The thought filled him with more rage than was necessarily appropriate for a lost ball, but he embraced it anyway.
One more thing Smitty took from him.
“We do,” Smitty said, and he sounded increasingly out of breath as he followed Horace, which filled Horace with a sick sense of pleasure. Smitty hadn’t stayed in shape the same way Horace had. In fact, Horace was in better shape than ever, thanks to his doctor’s orders to remain active to keep his heart pumping as long as possible.
“How did you find me out here?”
“Walt mentioned your tee-time.”
Why in the world would Walt do that? Horace increased his pace.
Smitty huffed behind him. “Will you stop being so stubborn for once and listen?”
Horace was never going to get to play a peaceful game of golf until he heard Smitty out. He stopped speed-walking and rounded on Smitty. “What, then? Are you here to finally apologize?”
Smitty’s back went ramrod straight. “Me. Apologize to you? It should be the other way around! I still can’t show my face in our old neighborhood because of your fliers.”
“And I had to see that billboard every day when I went to work.”
The two stared at one another, breathing hard.
Smitty cracked first. “This is bigger than that. Bigger than our rivalry.”
“Betrayal, you mean. And what could possibly be bigger than that?”
“Our grandchildren.” He pulled out his phone and showed Horace a picture of Logan and Julia in the pool, holding hands and smiling at each other like no one else existed. The glow of the pool lit them up and made them seem as though they were floating magically underwater.
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He’d told Julia to stay away from him.
“They’re falling in love,” Smitty said.
“They can’t.” Horace set his golf bag down, the weight of it too heavy to carry with the weight of the picture resting on him too. He finally looked at Smitty. Despite everything that had gone down between them, Smitty had always been the one with the big ideas. “What do we do?”
“We have to break them up.”
Horace paused, and then nodded decisively. It was the only option. The only thing that would make for long-term happiness. Byrds and Reeses were like oil and water. They didn’t mix, and to attempt to do so would only spell misery for everyone involved. He didn’t want that for his granddaughter.
But in order to break them up, he’d have to trust a Byrd one last time. “That would mean working together again. Can we do it?”
“For a good cause, I think we can.” Smitty held out his hand and lifted a brow in challenge. It was the same expression he used to have when they first started their business, the one he knew would always get Horace to agree to his latest scheme.
Was Horace up to doing this with him? Working with his old best friend-turned-enemy to break up their grandchildren? He would do anything to assure his granddaughter’s happiness, and if he had to work with Smitty Byrd to accomplish that goal, then so be it.
