Once Upon a Tee Time

Early Wednesday evening, the day before the American holiday of Thanksgiving, Karl Zimmer waited for an elevator ride up to the offices of Sherman Macpherson. He had been summoned to report to the office immediately. When an elevator door opened, a stream of smiling, laughing people poured into the lobby, all excited to have a few days off.

Karl entered a seemingly empty office on the fourth floor. With no receptionist on duty, he walked down the hallway to Mark Sherman’s door and knocked.

“It’s open.”

Before Karl even sat down, Sherman said, “Zimmer, I have some bad news for you. It’s certainly been bad news for us. We’re stepping away from this investment. It’s off the table.”

Karl grabbed the back of a chair. The situation struck him as shockingly familiar. He had felt the same way when Herman Winston told him he was eliminating the Research and Development Department at Eagle Optics. He tried to stay calm. Mark Sherman claimed to love the potential of his lenses. The scientific community had been lauding his work as ground-breaking technology in recent weeks.

Sherman waited for Karl to respond. When the inventor said nothing, he continued. “We received some unfortunate information early this afternoon. A suit has been filed against Eagle Optics over injuries to a customer. I assume you know about this.”

“I’ve heard nothing like that,” Karl replied. “What does it have to do with our business?”

“One of your lenses was responsible.”

“Widersinnig,” Karl exclaimed, his heart racing. “That’s impossible! I have the only lenses that exist. I’ve told you that.”

Sherman held up a batch of papers. “Let me summarize this for you. A lens definitively identified as one of yours was delivered to a Madeline Hanover of Flagstaff, Arizona, about two weeks ago. Wearing the lens resulted in pain and suffering. Her complaints are consistent with the risks you documented here.” He slapped his hand down on a copy of Zimmer’s report.

Karl squeezed the backrest. “I assure you that I had nothing to do with this woman or anyone else getting any of my lenses. The buttons I created are safely stored at Eagle Optics. You can call Mr. Cole right now. He’ll confirm that. He’s in charge of manufacturing.”

Sherman spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve been on the phone with Eagle Optics enough already. There’s no need for more questions.”

“How can you say that? I have many questions!”

“Let me ask you one,” Sherman said. “They have fifty-two of your prototypes in their possession, along with a note, signed by you, that you took two more out of inventory on September first. They were never returned. Where did they go?”

Karl sat down to think. Yes, he remembered signing out two buttons for the morning meeting. He didn’t remember returning them. Where could they be? They were probably in a pocket of his white lab coat. He left that hanging in his old office. “I’m confident the buttons are in my lab coat. I’m sure of it. It was an honest mistake. That doesn’t explain how one could be cut into a lens and delivered to a customer.”

Sherman maintained a frown. “Your old company was more forthcoming about this than you are. You left your prototypes in a conference room, just lying on the floor. A clerical employee picked them up and mistakenly took them to their cutting facility.”

Karl realized that he may have dropped them; he’d been upset at the time. “Why would an employee do that?”

“Maybe because they didn’t know any better ... and you should have. You’ve put Eagle Optics at risk because of it.”

Karl decided not to argue that point. He made a mistake. “Something about this isn’t right. Looking through one of my lenses is very different, quite disorienting at first. It’s highly unlikely that a person would wear one for even a few seconds before removing it. Irritation only results from extended wear.”

Sherman stood and lifted his suit coat from the back of his chair. “Listen, Zimmer. Most of our projects are computer or internet related. We took yours solely on my recommendation. In our business, we’re always on the lookout for yellow flags. This one is bright red. We’ve invested a lot of money and God knows how many hours pursuing this, but we’re pulling the plug. I suggest you check out of the hotel right away because we’re done paying for it. The rental car too. It’s over.”

Karl refused to believe it. “Can I review those papers? This all sounds wrong to me.”

“Take them all for a souvenir,” Sherman said. “You just can’t read here. I’m on my way out.”

Gathering the papers from the desk, Karl said, “The timing of this is strange, don’t you think?”

Sherman walked to the door and held it open. “Strange? I’d call it fortunate. What if the suit hadn’t been filed until next week, after we exercised the option? That’s our only consolation. Things could have been much worse for us.”

“Give me a chance to go back there and straighten all this out,” Karl pleaded. “I’ll get it cleared up by Monday. At least give me that chance.”

“There’s nothing left to fix. Our five-member investment committee had an emergency meeting at five. The vote was unanimous and final. We’ve moved on.” He pointed to the hallway. “Let’s go. I have a flight to Bermuda.”

Karl stepped out of Sherman’s office and watched him lock the door. “You’re making a mistake,” he insisted.

The investment banker shook his head. “No, I’m correcting one.”

Jingles carried the turkey to the head of the table and started carving in front of the guests. It was a Plumlee tradition.

“Don’t cut yourself, Jingles,” Lucy said. “You’re going to need all those fingers in Hawaii on Sunday!”

Mulligan glared at Jingles’ hands. “He’s probably got them insured.”

Pat tapped lightly on her wine glass with a spoon. “I want to propose a toast.” Everyone looked from the turkey to Pat and lifted their glasses.

“Here’s to good friends forever!” They all sipped.

Jingles put down his glass and continued to cut into the 20-pounder. “Tell me about Walter Crabtree. All I know about him is that he beat me three and one in the club tournament, and then beat Mulligan too.”

“He wouldn’t want to play you now,” Harvey chuckled. “He’s a nice guy and a really good partner. He’s been playing around even par so far.”

Lucy said, “His wife is nice too. Her name’s Virginia.”

Jingles continued to carve and place the slices on a platter. “Our special request before dinner is to have each of you tell us your favorite part of your trip to the island. Let’s start with the anniversary girl, Bess.”

Bess pointed to her chest and mouthed a silent, “Me?” She was the least talkative of the group and Jingles wanted to get her going.

“That’s an easy answer,” she said. “My favorite part was when the guys took off and left us girls alone. Without going into detail, let’s just say the men over there are fond of tourist women, even old ones like us!”

Lucy and Mary laughed and winked at Pat. They would all talk about that later.

Mary spoke next. “For me, it was the ocean. Whether I was floating on it, walking along the shore, or lounging beside it, I just loved it.”

“I liked the beaches too,” Lucy nodded. “But if I had to pick my favorite thing, I’d say it was dinner every night ... going to unique places, trying new dishes, and getting dressed up. Our husbands all looked so handsome over there.”

“Was that a trick question?” Mulligan asked. “You know I liked the golf best. Who doesn’t love hitting an approach shot to a green you’ve never seen before. It’s what I assume heaven is like ... a different course every day.”

Harvey looked very serious. “My favorite thing was watching Knickers, seeing him light up around his old friend Juan Felipe. Watching him watch baseball! I got a whole new perspective. I always thought he loved golf more than anything, but no more. He has baseball running through his veins. I think it’s a great thing to love something that much.”

“I agree with you on that,” Mulligan said. “I felt it too.”

Knickers was the only one left to respond. Pat waited cautiously, not knowing what to expect. She had gotten over his foolish pranks. Life was proceeding too beautifully to dwell on those any longer. Still, he was an enigma to her.

“Today, no bullshit,” he said. “I’m gonna tell it straight. There were a lot of things I liked about the trip and some things I didn’t. I didn’t like that Ray and Pat weren’t with us. I’m not sure who this Jingles is, but I know Ray Plumlee very well. He’s a helluva guy.”

Pat glanced at her husband, who had stopped slicing. Why had she invited Knickers into her house? When would she finally learn her lesson?

Everyone sat in silence as Knickers continued. “I didn’t like that they aren’t playin’ hardly no baseball in Haiti. That could be part of the problem there. In the Dominican Republic, ball games are like celebrations. Boys dream about bein’ big leaguers. They see role models all around them, guys who succeeded at the highest level. Haiti doesn’t have those kinds of heroes that kids look up to.

“I liked seein’ my old friend Juan, and it made me happy to feel such a strong bond after so many years. I liked seein’ my friends have such a great time. I liked the night Harvey sucked it up and smoked a cigar with Mulligan and me.

“But what did I love? Two things come to mind. I loved celebratin’ fifty years with a woman that means it all to me. I know people think I’m a cool guy and all, especially me, but all my coolness comes from her.

“The other thing I loved was a weird experience. Near the end of our trip, we were stayin’ at this big hotel in Haiti. Early in the morning, I went downstairs to find a cup of coffee. There was nobody in the restaurant yet, but a bunch of employees were gathered in the bar watchin’ deportes on a big screen TV. The announcers spoke Spanish and the workers spoke Creole, but they understood. All those employees, women and men, were laughin’ and pointin’ and talkin’ at the same time. The announcers kept sayin’ one word in English. The word was Jingles.

“And were they talkin’ about golf? No. It was an interview with some men in Eagle River, Alaska, talkin’ about their Little League coach from over thirty years ago. They were standin’ on a snow-covered baseball field reminiscin’ about the values of hard work and fair play … stuff they learned from a man now famous for makin’ putts. The Haitians thought it was funny that people played baseball in Alaska, where the weather’s so cold. I was thinking the reverse. They have great weather year around, and don’t play at all.”

“Interesting,” Bess said. “You never told me that.”

The other ladies exchanged glances that said: What was all that about?

Lucy tapped her glass. “My turn to toast! Here’s to Knickers and Bess, our gracious and wonderful hosts for a vacation we will always remember!” Everyone nodded and drank.

“And here’s to Pat and Jingles, for this lovely Thanksgiving meal,” Mary said, raising her glass again.

“Which you better start eating before it gets cold,” Pat added.

While the guests filled their plates, Jingles opened another bottle of wine from his well-stocked liquor cabinet. The group was in a toasting mood, but he limited himself to one glass. He planned to drive to Prescott Hills right after the meal.

Over dinner, Lucy suggested, “Why don’t we all share our favorite moment from The Tonight Show? I know we all loved it, so let’s share.”

Bess chuckled. “I think we know your favorite part, Mrs. Lucy Green. You heard your name on national television.”

Mulligan said, “I liked being acknowledged too. Thanks, Jingles. And that joke about old guys losing the use of their putters cracked me up. Mary will tell you that’s not a problem for me.”

“That’s not what she tells me,” Bess smirked. Even Mulligan laughed.

“I recorded the show and watched a few more times,” Harvey admitted. “I liked the whole thing, obviously, but mostly what you said about playing with your friends, Jingles. You said that’s what golf is all about. I hope we play together again soon.”

Jingles got up to gather dishes from the table. “Speaking of that, I want to take you guys for a long ride in Pat’s new car after dessert. There’s a new golf course I want to show you.”

Pat addressed the ladies. “I want to hear about all that mischief. I can hardly wait for the men to leave.”

Jingles had all the keys for Prescott Hills. Oliver handed them over when he met them at the airport. He hoped his friends would share his excitement about the place.

The drive passed quickly as Jingles probed for details about their trip. Mulligan made a hole-in-one on the first day. Harvey studied Basic Spanish so he could assist with translation, and wound up falling in love with the language. While it had been several years since the earthquake struck Haiti, the destruction remained highly visible. All three developed a taste for Santo Domingo beer. The passengers weren’t curious about their destination until they drew close.

“I can’t believe we’re still in Arizona,” Mulligan said. “Look at the size of these trees.”

“It’s a lot cooler here than it was back in Leisureville,” Jingles pointed out. “That’s why I gave you all sweaters.”

When they reached the Prescott Hills sign, Jingles recited the history of the place. At the clubhouse, he took an ice chest from his trunk and carried it to the rear deck. He passed out beer while his friends took in the wilderness view.

“We can even take a ride around the course,” Jingles said, leading them to the garage. In a pair of carts, they headed off to explore the unique layout.

Upon arriving at Ponderosa, Jingles drove off the cart path and right up to the rear door. “I want you guys to see this house and tell me what you think.”

He led a tour, pointing out the features that had so impressed Pat and him. He explained that there would be no restrictions on the size or number of pets, that even horses were welcome.

Remembering the trout, Jingles took the spinning rod from beside the door and headed to the pond. A worm wriggled beneath the third rock he kicked.

“Are you a fisherman, Knickers?” he asked, handing him the rod.

“Not for about twenty years,” he replied.

“Try tossing the worm over there under the bridge.”

Knickers flipped out the bait and nothing happened. “Dang it,” Jingles said. “I paid a trout good money to grab that worm as soon as it hit the water.”

The rod doubled over and a fish took off with the line. A rainbow twice the size of Pat’s leaped out of the water and splashed back down.

“There you go,” Mulligan exclaimed. “He was just a little late for work!”

Knickers chased the trout around the pond. “Do you have a net?” he yelled. “Somebody get me a net!”

The others walked out on the bridge, leaned on the railing, and rooted for the fish. Jingles looked from Knickers to the green, then back at Ponderosa. Everything felt perfect. The trout eventually tired and Knickers lifted it from the water. It was a Kodak moment, but no one had a camera. He posed just the same, then released the fish.

“You put on a great floor show, Jingles,” Mulligan said, lighting a cigar.

Harvey also turned to Jingles. “You’ve been very mysterious. What brought us out here?”

“Yeah, why the visit to Yosemite National Park?” Mulligan asked through a cloud of smoke.

Jingles nodded toward the log home. “That’s Pat’s new house, a gift from the friendly people at Phoenix City Bank.”

Mulligan frowned. “So ... you’re dumping Leisureville?”

Jingles half-expected the comment. “We probably won’t move for a year or two, not until most of the other construction is done around here.”

“What construction?” Harvey asked. “I didn’t see anything going on.”

“There are over two hundred lots,” Jingles explained. “They’ll all have homes like this one.”

“You mean the lots are all sold?” Harvey asked.

“None are sold yet. Just ours.”

Knickers rubbed his hands on his pants, transferring the fish slime. “How they gonna sell them? The market’s not so good for houses that cost what, six hundred grand or more?”

“The golf course is unique,” Mulligan said. “I think the place has nice potential. Like Knickers said, though, the market isn’t very good.”

“The bank thinks I can help sell the development,” Jingles said. “Oliver, he’s the president, wants me to serve as club pro. Pat and I think lots of Alaskans would like to retire here.”

Knickers started searching for another worm. “So, the bank thinks people will move here just to be neighbors of the great Jingles? Maybe get some putting lessons?”

“Stop it,” Harvey barked, glaring at Knickers. “Why are you ripping him? A couple of hours ago, at dinner, you claimed to love how people responded to his story. Remember?”

“Harvey, you missed the whole damn point. I was talkin’ about his coachin’, not the contact lens scam. I’m a fan of what he did on the diamond, not the stuff he’s been pullin’ on the greens.”

Jingles tried to shake off the criticism. “I want you guys to move here too. I’ll buy three more houses. You can live in them for as long as you want. That’s what I brought you here to tell you.”

Knickers passed the rod to Harvey. “Here, you can try catchin’ one of Jingles’ fish.”

He scowled at Jingles. “Now I know how you must have felt when I tried to bribe you to come on vacation. We’re your friends, Ray, not Jingles fans. When this is all over, we’ll still be your friends. And I’ll still be living in Leisureville.”

Mulligan tossed Knickers a cigar. “You always seem to say what I’m thinking. I guess we’ve been partners for a long time.”

Harvey’s face had turned red. His Adam’s apple pointed straight at Knickers. “You know what? I am a Jingles fan! Why the bitterness? We all wish that lens had come to our own mailbox, don’t we?”

Jingles walked to the woodpile beside the house. He returned with an armload of logs and kindling. The others stood quietly as he arranged the wood in the outdoor fireplace, then asked for a lighter. He flicked up a flame and held it to the smallest piece of kindling. A cozy blaze crackled within a minute.

He invited everyone to sit around the fire, wishing he had more beer. When all were seated, he said, “It’s time for us to talk about this together. Your opinions really matter to me.”

Mulligan wiped sweat from his forehead, despite the cool temperature. “You’ve handled this lens business like a politician. Believe me, I know how that works. You talk in generalities and avoid the specifics. Why didn’t you come right out and say you got a freak lens that made the game simple? I think it’s because you wanted to keep up the illusion that you’re a great golfer.”

Harvey’s cheeks still showed color. “What illusion? He’s always been a great golfer. He has the best swing we’ve ever seen. He just couldn’t putt. He happened to get a contact lens that was a perfect match for his eye. You think he should apologize for that, Mulligan? Is that the advice you’d give him as his agent? I heard you say he should have hired you.”

Knickers lit his cigar. “The problem with the lens is that it’s not fair. When I saw Jingles hittin’ them fastballs, I knew somethin’ was very shady. If a baseball player puts cork in his bat, he can hit a ball further. That’s why it’s against the rules. You read a lot about steroids these days. Those who use ’em have an unfair advantage. I don’t know what Jingles sees exactly, but it changes things in an unfair way.”

“Unfair?” Harvey objected, heating up again. “He didn’t go out and cork a bat or inject steroids. He put on lenses that a doctor ordered for him. You’re a stickler for rules, Knickers. Is there a rule about eyewear in golf? I never heard of it.”

Mulligan intervened. “Knickers didn’t say he was breaking the rules. He said it wasn’t fair. It’s more like Jingles is breaking the code of fairness.”

Harvey spit in the fire. “The code of fairness? What the hell is that? Where can I get a copy?”

Jingles stared into the flames, wondering if Knickers and Mulligan were right. Could fate have been overly kind? He wrestled with the question.

Mulligan responded to Harvey. “Nobody’s saying that Jingles is cheating necessarily, but the effect is kind of the same. You said so yourself, remember? You said Jingles’ putting is equivalent to an eight hundred batting average in baseball … totally impossible.”

“I guess I’m not a deep thinker like you guys,” Jingles said quietly. “I was struggling with my game and this contact lens came along. I almost sent the crazy thing back when it arrived. The very next day, Pat tried to take it away from me. Then I almost lost it down a drain. After all that, I decided maybe the two of us belonged together.” He glanced at all three faces. “Tell me what you’d do in my place. I have lots of people, lots of friends, that are relying on me now.”

Mulligan wagged his head. “I wouldn’t worry so much about your new friends. If they weren’t part of your life before you hit the headlines, they probably don’t matter. Nobody’s paying you out of the goodness of their heart. I don’t think you understand that. Look at this big log house. Why did they give it to you? Because you’re a nice guy? No. They did it because they’re angling to sell out a development and make some money.

“I’ll tell you the difference between you and them, Jingles. You just showed it. You wanted to give us houses like yours for only one reason. You’re a kind, generous guy. You had nothing to gain but our company, so thanks for the offer.”

Knickers nodded. “Same goes for Eagle Optics, the car dealer, and Calloway. They invest in you to make a profit. You don’t owe them nothin’ if you don’t take their handouts.”

Jingles looked to Harvey, who had gone silent. “If you were me, Harvey, tell me what you’d do. Would you wear the lens and let people make a fuss over you?”

Harvey closed his eyes. “I can’t really answer that. I just wish you told us more about the lens from the start. I think it would have been a fascinating conversation. Who knows what we would have said back then? We’ll never know because things are different now.

“Let me just say that you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine you ever doing the wrong thing, which brings up a question. How do you endorse contact lenses for a company when the one you rely on is nothing but a defect? How do you or Eagle Optics justify that?”

Jingles stared at his close friend, then lowered his head. “That’s complicated. I had the impression that they could copy my lens … that maybe all golfers could have one. Now I’m worried that might not be true.”

Mulligan slapped his hands together. “That’s false advertising!”

“Not on their part,” Jingles admitted. “They haven’t even examined my bubble lens. They don’t know about the defect. I’m afraid it’s all been a misunderstanding. In any case, I already decided to give their money back. If I’m going to benefit financially, it’s going to be because of my golf, not the lens.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Mulligan shouted. “Your golf is the lens! You can’t separate the two.” Knickers and Harvey nodded agreement.

Mulligan cleared his throat. “You wanted to know what we’d do in your shoes. I’ll be completely honest. I would have done the same as you, right up until you told Knickers about your lens. That was a mistake. I would have kept that to myself.

“Heck, I pushed you into all this. I saw something amazing and called out the media dogs. You didn’t go out of your way to screw anybody. You were dealt a straight flush and made it pay. Thing is, deceit isn’t in your nature. This is deceitful.”

Harvey scratched his head. “Jingles hasn’t screwed anybody. He played in some exhibitions. People were entertained. Even the Skins Game is only an exhibition for charity.”

“Okay,” Knickers said. “Here’s another way to look at it. If others could see the cup through Jingles’ eye, if they understood his advantage, would they be so excited? I doubt it. How many people want to watch a slam dunk contest where the basket is seven feet high for one contestant and ten feet for all the others?”

Mulligan laughed. “See, Jingles? You shouldn’t have told Knickers about your damn lens. You were fine, providing nobody else knew about it. We’d still be jealous, but we wouldn’t be pissed.”

Knickers persisted. “Am I far off, Jingles? Is the rim right there at your fingertips?”

Jingles considered the comparison. Knickers wasn’t far off. Most putts were slam dunks.

“But look how far Tommy Jenks could hit the ball,” Harvey argued. “Jingles’ putting just leveled the playing field.”

“And where’s that level playin’ field for us, Harvey?” Knickers asked. “That lens beats you and me by about fourteen strokes.”

Knickers rose from his seat and shook circulation back into his legs. “Jingles, it was a very entertainin’ experience for a few days, I’ll give you that. I wouldn’t mind playin’ a few rounds with a lens like that too. If you think it’s all good and fine, though, why haven’t you told anyone else?”

Harvey stood as well. “You’re overthinking this, Knickers. We should accept his good fortune. I see the lens as a heavenly gift that Jingles must have earned.”

Knickers snorted. “If God gives a damn about how anybody plays golf or any other game, I want a refund for every dollar I ever tossed into the collection plate at church. We just came back from a country where people are strugglin’ to eat. God has bigger things to think about.

“And I held back another thing I disliked about our trip. I disliked me for ridin’ around in a limo where all those people were barely gettin’ by. That’s not who I want to be. That’s not the way I’ve lived my life and it will never happen again.”

Mulligan applauded the speech. “One last thing, Harvey. There are lots of ways to show support for a friend. One of the most important is to let them know when they’re wrong.”

With sunset approaching, Jingles pushed himself up from the bench and forced a smile. “Guys, thanks for coming out here. I’m going to think about everything you said. I’m also inviting you to Hawaii for the Skins Game, if you’d like another island vacation.”

The offer drew no responses. The return trip to Leisureville seemed much longer.