Page 65 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Also, Kate’s dad was a cheat. They were all cheats, it turned out. Or maybe they just played by different rules and forgot to clue me in.

I would give them the benefit of the doubt.

It was a glorious autumn afternoon. I wasn’t mad that I had to spend it outside on a golf course, even with three obvious cheaters. I was playing well enough that I held my own even without cheating myself. That wasn’t to say I was winning, because I wasn’t. But I wasn’t embarrassing myself, either.

That I could play at all was thanks to my college adviser, Ms. Sweetin. She had insisted that all her students learn to play golf adequately. Men network on golf courses as an excuse to hoard power for rich white males. Don’t let them leave you out of the conversation. I suspected she had learned that lesson from personal experience.

Mr. Wellington and Mr. Yates had moved on to the ninth and final hole, while I held back as Kate’s father finished the eighth hole. Mr. Locklear had an easy putt from where we stood. He took the shot, and I watched it roll forward, coming to a stop right on the edge. Mr. Locklear nudged it with his toe, sending it into the hole.

“That’s par,” Mr. Locklear announced.

It wouldn’t have been without the toe nudge. “Sure,” I agreed. I wasn’t here to win. I was here to make three board members feel good about choosing me as principal. Lay the groundwork for extending my contract.

And if I could make Kate’s dad like me in the process, well… I couldn’t deny that this man’s opinion mattered more to me than the others.

“So, about Kate,” Mr. Locklear said, handing his club to the caddie.

Aha. There it was.

I’d had the feeling that Mr. Locklear was trying to get me alone all afternoon and now I was certain of it. Work was just a pretense. The real reason I was here was Kate. I bit back a curse word. I hadn’t even told Kate about the golf date. A tactical error on my part. A good boyfriend would have known better.

But somehow I hadn’t linked the pieces together in my mind. It hadn’t occurred to me to tell her I was golfing with the board. Considering her dad was a member, I wanted to keep work as far from our relationship as possible.

She wasn’t going to care about any of that, though.

She was going to kill me.

“We’re having George’s commemoration here,” Mr. Locklear said conversationally as we climbed into the golf cart. “Did Kate tell you about George?”

“She’s talked about him some,” I said carefully.

Not all that much, actually. And most of it had centered on how his death had affected her and the town. She hadn’t said anything at all about who George was as a person or even what their marriage had been like.

None of that had occurred to me until now. And now, I wanted to know. About George, about their relationship, about their marriage. I wanted to know all of it, because knowing that part of her life meant knowing her.

But not from her dad. I had absolutely zero experience with any of this, but I was pretty sure that talking about your girlfriend behind her back with her dad was frowned upon.

“George means a lot to this town.” Mr. Locklear tipped his hat to another golfer as we drove past. “He was a soldier. A hero.”

I nodded. Kate had told me that much, at least.

“Kate understands her obligation to keep his memory alive. The town needs her for a lot of reasons, but especially right now. On the ten-year anniversary of his death, the town needs her to be his widow.” Mr. Locklear kept his gaze on the green, not looking me in the eye. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I frowned. “No, I can’t say that I do.” Although I suspected I understood exactly what Kate’s father was saying. I just didn’t want to understand.

“I’m saying it wouldn’t look very widow-like if Kate were to show up at a commemoration to honor her deceased husband with a new boyfriend at her side.”

For a moment, I was stunned into silence.

“Well,” I said finally, “that was blunt.”

Mr. Locklear shrugged. “No point in beating around the bush, is there?”

“What does Kate think about that?”

“Well, we’re not discussing what Kate thinks about it, are we? We’re discussing what the town thinks. What her mother and I think. And when you talk to her about it, it might be wise for you to make her think it was your idea.”

“You want me to lie to her.” I couldn’t hide my disgust.

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