Chapter 9

LILLY

“Waffles!” she shouted. Closing the door behind her, she stopped cold, warm dish suspended in the air. Annie hadn’t been joking about the Post-It notes. Warm orange, yellow and taupe Post-Its covered the refrigerator and expanded onto the glass front of the oven door, which was only used for overflow of Lilly’s on Thanksgiving or for dinner parties. It looked the work of a madman or a genius; the work of hours, resulting in names, questions and facts.

Lilly was still gawking when they both walked in, Annie’s hair in a messy bun, her mom’s eyes barely open.

“Late night?” She uncovered the waffles with a flourish. “These should help wake you up.”

Her mom eased into a kitchen chair while Annie plopped in one opposite. Annie managed, “Coffee.”

“Mom, you want coffee too?” Lilly pulled down the French press. She got a yawn in response, so Lilly turned on the electric kettle, then handed them syrup. Her forehead wrinkled as she listened to the kettle get louder. She nodded to the Murder Board, saying,“Phil didn’t make this easy. There’s a lot of people, mostly women, who have motive.”

Her mom woke up enough to say, “We really need to talk to Frank.”

Annie shook her head. “Sorry, workday, Gran. Mom and I have appointments, and there’s a list of front desk work for you at reception.” Lilly watched her daughter slather peanut butter, then syrup on a waffle like she was eight years old again. “Yay, family business!” Annie took a bite, catching syrup before it got all the way down her chin, then said, “I have to get these advertising materials to Gabriel today.”

“I wonder how Gabriel’s taking this,” Lilly said. “Phil was his coach for years. He was young when he moved here, barely a teenager.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gabriel’s family here, have you?” Gran paused. “His mother was on TV, in the background, when Gabriel won or gave an interview. What was her name again?”

She headed upstairs, and Lilly walked to the door. “See you later!”

***

ANNIE

Annie scanned the to-do list for the day and week inside Bonaparte’s calendar. Orders, social media updates, and an impending networking meeting in Denver. Tapping a pen on the paper, she sighed. She felt, she wasn’t sure, weird? Unsettled? So much to do, and she didn’t feel like doing any of it, except taking the marketing materials to Gabriel.

She sat on her bed, showered, hair wet and wrapped in a towel, holding her phone. Phil’s death was huge, but she couldn’t miss a deadline, could she? Should she call? Gabriel and Phil knew pressure and high stakes. It wasn’t just her anxiety about the looming deadline; she wanted to know how he was doing.

She swiped her screen, tapping on Gabriel’s name.

Annie: Hi. Are you okay?

Gabriel: For a moment this morning, I expected to see him for putting practice.

Annie: So sorry.

She hesitated, thumbs poised in the air, then continued I know it’s not a great time, but the advertising deadline…Can I bring the materials for you to approve and send in?

Gabriel: Sure. Find me when you get here. Be warned, it’s like a New Orleans funeral in here. And, get this. Elaine texted last night, suggesting we close for a few days out of respect for Phil. (eyeroll emoji)

Annie: that’s…interesting.

Gabriel: No, it’s crazy. Phil would never want the course closed for any reason or holiday. I don’t know if he loved anything as much as he loved golf. Golf was his life, not a hobby.

Annie: Women were the hobby for Phil. Golf was Phil’s one true love.

Gabriel: Truth. Everyone’s here talking about Phil, sharing stories. He was the opposite of monogamy, but everyone seems to have a funny story.

Annie: Sounds like a lot of that could be PG-13 or R-rated.

Gabriel: I owe my career success to him. He was a brilliant coach. The other stuff…cringeworthy.

Annie: Accurate. See you in a half hour-ish?

Gabriel: K

Annie sat the phone down and turned the hairdryer on her hair. Gran would be mad she was missing out on all those stories, or as she would call them, potential motives.

Ten minutes later, she managed a parking spot on the grass—the parking lot was full. Annie carried a box of printed advertising materials, with the digital copies on a USB in her purse.

As Annie stopped, surprised to see someone in the distance taking pictures of the clubhouse. “Elaine?” She asked, but Elaine was too far away to hear, or purposefully ignoring her. Curious, she thought, observing the Rockies baseball cap pulled low, paired with massive sunglasses. That’s definitely Elaine, Annie said to herself, but she’d never seen Elaine in athleisure; always something designer and expensive. Annie turned back to the door and walked in.

Did Gabriel know what Elaine was doing? Something seemed off about Elaine, attempting incognito with athleisure and a ball cap? Elaine adored the spotlight and cameras and was just waiting for her chance at reality TV.

Annie had assumed Gabriel was in charge, because Phil had made him his successor, but then Gabriel mentioned Elaine attempting to give him an order. In all the years Annie worked there, Elaine had never been interested in the golf course and only ever showed up if someone rich, famous, or both was there. Plus, the gossip mill in Crystal Valley had hummed all summer with the dramatic details of Phil and Elaine’s divorce.

Annie felt a sinking swirl in her stomach. When the doctors announced that Gabriel’s career was over, Phil wasted no time installing his protégé as manager of his golf course. Surely Phil made it legal? Then what was Elaine doing? Was she going to take over? Would Elaine want to collaborate with the Spa if she took over?

Annie opened the doors to the clubhouse restaurant, and a wall of noise hit her, matching the anxious, noisy questions swirling in her head. Gabriel hadn’t exaggerated, because inside was equal to the busiest day of a tournament. Every chair taken, with clusters of people standing. Gabriel was behind the counter at the espresso machine, steam hissing, while two catering staff scurried about. Gabriel waved at Annie but didn’t stop, pulling two more espressos.

Today was an emotion buffet, because now along with grief, nerves, worry, Annie had a wave of wistfulness. For so many summers and weekends, that had been her behind the counter. She had been here when Phil purchased the first coffee machine. Had she been naïve, or wrong, to work here for so long?

Gabriel approached, a latte in each hand. “They should be able to manage without me now. Let’s go into my office, away from the noise.”

The door shut, dulling the cacophony of tears, laughter and espresso machine . Annie stood holding the box. Gone were Phil’s trophies and photos, decades of golf career memories and his dark leather furniture. The office felt twice as big, now with a few photos but no trophies, seemingly professionally decorated in modern, glossy white furniture.

“Different, isn’t it? Phil moved his personal effects, mementos, and photos. He didn’t mind retiring, but I think he wanted to keep the memories, the victories, close.”

“I like the new furniture.” Her eyes paused on the painting above the navy blue couch.

Gabriel set the coffees on his desk and followed her gaze as he took the box from her and sat it on his desk. “It’s Aliza Nisenbaum, a famous painter from Mexico City. My mother got it for me.”

“Impressive.” She paused. “No trophies?”

“No,” he said, without elaborating.

Gabriel sat down in his chair behind his desk. “I was expecting a quiet, solemn day, receiving condolences, that sort of vibe.” He shook his head. “Instead, the locals and regulars are out there laughing about the good old days, some tears here and there. All of them drinking coffee, eating.”

Annie settled into the comfortable armchair opposite him. “I bet the flasks are coming out, too?”

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah.”

Annie said, “Phil was a big character. That leaves an empty space.” Her head tilted to one side. “And you’re okay?”

Gabriel, still leaning back, nodded. “Each month, I saw less and less of him. He wasn’t here much in the last couple of months. But it’s like he’ll still come walking back in, giving me shit for how I redecorated his office. Does that sound weird?” Gabriel leaned back, tapping a pen on the desk. “The last few weeks, I only saw him a couple of mornings a week for putting practice. He didn’t even come to check up on the course anymore.” Gabriel dropped the pen and took a drink of his latte. “It’ll hit when the tournament starts in a few weeks and he’s not here to schmooze the bigwigs. ”

Annie nodded. “Those handshakes and one-liners that made everyone welcome and included.” She gave a short laugh. “The sometimes too-friendly touches as well.”

Silence, as they both watched memories in their minds.

Finally, quietly, Annie opened the box. “I’m sorry. I wish we could have delayed this. I just have the deadline from your marketing firm…”

“No,” Gabriel said quickly. “No, this is good. Phil put golf above everything else. And you’re right; they are strict with deadlines.”

Annie nodded and opened the box, pulling out a sample packet and a USB. “Here’s paper and digital. You said there would be physical in-house invitations, as well as digital advertising?”

Gabriel pored over the materials. “Yes, we send out paper invitations to a lot of the repeat tournament attendees. We have a demographic that appreciates snail mail, and that same demographic will be interested in spa services.” He flipped through the materials and plugged the USB into his computer. Annie talked through some details with him, Gabriel scanning and nodding. Despite having been a child golf star and gracing the cover of various magazines, Annie wondered to herself how Gabriel had stayed so ‘normal’.

“Phil must have been an excellent teacher with marketing and business.”

Gabriel gave a little snort. “Phil coached golf, and he made the media and managing your winnings part of being a golfer. With my pro schedule, I was homeschooled for a lot of high school. He dual-enrolled me in community college my senior year, and I took business and finance classes. I have an associate’s degree, and I’m taking more classes, slowly. Not sure if I’ll ever get my bachelor’s, though. I’m just picking what I need to do my job here.”

Annie leaned back, finally drinking her latte.” When I came in, Elaine was outside, taking photos. Did you know she was here?”

Annie saw the worry in Gabriel’s eyes. “I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. Phil’s lawyer has already contacted me for a meeting, as well as the official reading of Phil’s last will and testament. So, for the next few days—your guess is as good as mine. Phil talked a lot about me taking over, his kids not having interest. I have a ten-year contract with Phil, only breakable if I can go pro again.”

“Ten years?”

“Yeah, Phil wanted stability for both me and the golf course. He invested his time, his energy in my career. And when my injury sidelined me, at my darkest time, he brought me here and sold me on the possibilities of a career here. We have a plan—had a plan to start summer camps for kids, allotting spaces by talent and not just ability to pay.”

“Are you worried about Elaine? Their divorce wasn’t final yet.” Annie was worried, but as soon as she asked she regretted she’d said anything.

Gabriel ran his hands through his hair again, as if he could pull the anxiety out of his head through the strands of his hair.

“Yes. All I can do is my job for now. Phil wouldn’t have given me all this responsibility without making it legal, surely.” He stared at her for a moment. “No matter what happens, whoever runs this place, having your Spa next door is an asset.”

Annie twisted the strap of her purse in her fingers. Fear and worry caused her to blurt, “I don’t want to be a failed business statistic.”

“You won’t be.” Gabriel smiled, a dimple forming in his right cheek. “Hey, I’m still limited to 18 holes, once a week max, doctor’s orders. I’m going a little stir crazy. Wanna join me in training for a 10k? It’s harder to sleep through the alarm if someone’s waiting for you.”

“A 10k? I’ve only ever done 5Ks. When’s the race?”

“I am going totally professional and signing up for the Ugly Sweater Christmas 10k.”

Annie laughed, surprised. “Well, if it’s totally serious, then I’m in. Ugly Sweater 10k sounds good.” Wait, what did she just say? Did her mouth say yes to a 10k? In what free time? Her brain started spinning. That was three months to train from barely 5ks to a 10k! She wiped sweat from her palms onto her capris.

Gabriel’s phone started ringing, so she said goodbye, still wondering how her mouth had signed the rest of her up for a 10 -freaking-k.

She walked out, her heart racing as she opened her car door. She didn’t see Elaine anywhere. Exactly who was in charge of the Course? And a will and testament reading?

She needed to talk to Gran.