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Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06

By: coaster2



Chapter 5 Opportunity Knocks

I found Catherine's address easily with the 'nav' unit and saw that it was a twelve unit apartment building: three floors of four units each. She was standing out front waiting for me as I drove up.

"Drive around to the parking lot, Terry. I'll get my clubs out of the car and put them in yours."

I followed her instructions and within two minutes I was putting in the directions to the Bending Willows Golf Club in Gresham. We took the I 205 bypass to Hwy 26, then headed east for ten minutes. A turn back south on a rural road led us toward the course. We were on the southern outskirts of Gresham in some pretty hilly country. I wonder what kind of land the course would be on.

I almost missed the turnoff to the driveway but Catherine warned me and we moved slowly down a narrow tree-lined lane before pulling into the parking lot a minute later. It wasn't much to look at. The buildings were wood frame and appeared to be quite old. There were a number of poplar trees so we couldn't see much of the course from where we were.

"How old is this course, Cat?"

"I'm not sure. I think it was built just after World War Two. It's a really interesting layout but, as you'll see, it's been neglected."

There was no sign of a clubhouse save an open area that might have been the site some time ago. She led me to the pro shop and we entered the small, dark room.

"Hey, Scotty, I'm here," she announced.

A burly, older man appeared from a back room dressed in a tweed vest, shirt and tie, and plus fours. He was in full costume for a Bobby Jones banquet.

"Ach, Lass. There ye are. Come gie ye olde uncle a hug, darlin'." 

Cat gave him an affectionate hug and a kiss and then turned to me.

"Terry, I'd like you to meet Walter Ferguson. Everyone knows him as 'Scotty' around here. Scotty, this is the man I told you about, Terry Monahan."

"Oh Aye, ye would be bringin' me an Irishman too, Lass?"

"I'm afraid so, Scotty," I said, holding out my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Aye ... and you, Lad. Catherine tells me you be here to play a round, then?"

"Yes. She mentioned Bending Willows to me so I thought I'd like to play it."

"Well, she must have been a wee bit tipply if she recommended it. It'll nay stand proud to Ghost Creek ... or the others." 

"I've been warned. To be honest, I'm looking at the course to see what it might need to put it in better condition. It might make a reasonable investment."

Scotty was not smiling as he rubbed his thumb and fingertips together, making the universal sign for money.

"Cash, Laddie. Aye ... lots of cash," he said in dour voice.

"Well it's all premature right now. I'm just investigating the options and seeing what it would take. No point in getting anyone's hopes up yet," I warned. 

Scotty understood completely. He'd probably given up waiting for someone to rescue the place. He didn't want to get too excited by some stranger coming in and sniffing about, even if I was a friend of his honorary niece. 

I paid the green fees for us and we set off to the first tee. By the time we had played three holes I knew this course was on its deathbed. To be fair, the fairways were mowed and the rough wasn't impossible. The greens showed signs of some kind of blight that was killing parts of them. They looked like they had 'the pox.' The water holes were more suitable for breeding mosquitoes and the traps were in desperate need of some sand. All in all it was an unhappy sight. But in truth, many of the problems were cosmetic and that gave me some hope.

As we played it gave me a chance to learn more about Catherine Walston. She was a graduate of the University of Oregon in her home town of Eugene. She was a Business Administration major with a minor in Physical Education. Her love of golf led her to a partial scholarship and she excelled to the point where she was encouraged to go to qualifying school and try to earn a LPGA card. She succeeded at that and her pro career began. 

As I listened, it all seemed like it was a surprise to her. She loved to play golf, but never once thought of it as a career. One of her rewards for earning her card was to be approached by local sponsors. It was a necessary ingredient for an aspiring young woman to sustain her first years on the tour. That and some results that would indicate she could compete. For Catherine, it was never easy and success was flighty and infrequent.

We quit keeping score when it was apparent to both of us that it didn't matter. We would write this off to an experience and I allowed myself to concentrate on what I was seeing and what it would take to make it viable. I was beginning to see some significant dollar signs. I wasn't discouraged simply because I didn't know what the owners wanted for the operation. That was our next step.

Valley Investments were the titled owners I was told by the county records department. I was given their address and phone number and I called them.

"My name is Terry Monahan and I understand you are trying to sell the Bending Willows Golf Course. Are you the person I should be talking to?"

"Yes ... I'm Norman Fears, President of Valley Investments. What can I do for you?"

"I'm interested in discussing Bending Willows with you. Would you be willing to meet with me and my associate?"

"Yes, I think that can be arranged," he said carefully, as if looking up his schedule to fit us in. 

I figured he was being cagy, wondering if he could dump that loser property for more than it was worth.

"When would it be convenient to meet?" 

"Perhaps tomorrow ... at nine o'clock in the morning ... at my office." He was trying to set up the situation in his favor. He had no idea I'd seen all this before and by much more accomplished businessmen than him.

"Fine ... nine am at your office. We'll see you then," I said, hanging up. I didn't want him asking any more questions at that stage. Let him wonder who I was and what this was really about. Did I know something he didn't know?

"That was pretty quick," Catherine said. "You didn't give him much to go on."

"Intentional. He tried to give me the 'I'm in charge' routine and I didn't want him to think I was going along with it. You'll find our meeting tomorrow will be quite interesting ... from a spectator point of view."

"You want me there too?"

"Yes, ma'am. You're part of this deal so you need to know exactly what's going on."

"Terry, I've only known you for one day. I just agreed to take you out there and introduce you to Scotty. I didn't plan on being involved in any scheme."

"It isn't a scheme ... at least not yet. It's exploration. I want to know what he's holding onto this property for. I'm guessing this area falls under the County Commissioner's office. I think a visit there might be worthwhile. Two sets of eyes and ears are always better than one. You know this part of the world and I don't. I really could use your help."

She looked at me with a deadpan expression, probably wondering just what I was up to. I didn't dare tell her that I was wondering too.

I spoke on the phone with Delores Sandoval, the commissioner for the district that included the club property. A ten minute discussion gave me some key information and some ammunition for next morning's meeting.

"Norman Fears is not highly regarded in development circles," I told Catherine. "He tried to slip the rezoning of the golf course by the county but someone tipped them off that it wasn't supported by the locals. Delores did some digging and decided that Mr. Fears was not the kind of person they wanted as a developer in Multnomah County and she convinced the rest of the council to reject his application. 

"Apparently he wasn't pleased. In fact, he tried to undermine her by going around her to the Chairman and offering him what would amount to a bribe. Something about a land exchange and some cash. That went over like a lead balloon so Norman was quickly dispatched. His chances of rezoning that property in this lifetime are zero. So he's stuck with what he's got: a dying golf course that is undoubtedly bleeding cash as we speak. I think we might be in the driver's seat."

"The driver's seat for what?" she asked. "Are you thinking of buying it?"

"I am. I've been mentally tallying the costs of bringing it back to life and what it would cost to make the improvements I think it needs. Once I know that I will know how much I need to borrow and roughly how much the debt service will be. Then it's a matter of how much cash it can generate. That's where the speculation comes in. I'm guessing there aren't any dues paying members left?"

Catherine shrugged, obviously not knowing. 

"So there you are. That's my thinking. It will depend on what I can get out of Mr. Fears tomorrow. I wish I had time to find out just how desperate he is. Maybe if I stall tomorrow I can find out."

"And you want me involved?" She still seemed to be dubious about my motives.

"Absolutely, if you're willing. We've also got Scotty to draw on for hard information. I'm assuming he knows the workings of the operation inside out?" 

"Yes ... he does. But why do you want to buy a golf course?" she asked, backing up to the question that was obviously causing her to wonder about me.

"Well ... let's see. I've decided I want to own my own business. I've decided I want to own a business that I like ... one that I can enjoy. I've decided I want a change of scenery from the Midwest. I've decided I want to be in charge of my future and my own life. Owning a golf course could fill all those needs as long as I don't get carried away and let it own me. Does that explain it?"

"I guess," she said, still not quite convinced.

"You look doubtful."

"I've never been involved in a situation like this. I guess I've lived a different kind of life. Being on the tour is nothing like being in business."

"That's partly true. But ask yourself how many current and former golfers are involved in setting themselves up in business for when they can't or don't want to play any more. All kinds. And that includes the ladies tour as well I'd bet."

She nodded. "That's right. I can remember some of the locker room talk about just that kind of thing. Women talking to each other about investments and what to do when the ride is over. Most of them want to take advantage of their careers."

"There you go. That's what I'm talking about and that's what you were talking about when you mentioned the decision that's facing you. Wouldn't you like to find a job that let you stay in touch with the one thing that you know best?"

For the first time since we'd been discussing my loosely formed plan, she smiled. 

"That does sound better than some of the jobs I've been applying for. I guess it can't hurt to tag along and see what comes of this."

"Good for you," I grinned. "This could be fun. You never know how these kinds of deals are going to turn out."

When we walked into the office of Valley Investments, the front desk was empty. The single door to an office was slightly ajar and soon a fifty-something man came out and approached us.

"You are Mr. Monahan, I presume," he said with a stern visage.

"That's right. And I assume you are Mr. Fears?"

"Correct."

"This is Ms. Walston, my associate."

"Ms. Walston," he acknowledged, barely looking at Catherine.

"Won't you come in? My secretary is out on an errand right now."

We followed him into his office. Like the outer office, it was sparse. There was no sign that this was a prosperous business.

"You said you wanted to talk about the Bending Willows property," he began.

"Yes. I've had a chance to view the property and look at the improvements, if you can call them that. It's in pretty run down shape."

"I was intending to have it rezoned and develop some two acre plots for upscale homes. That plan has been delayed due to a minor glitch with the county council."

"Yes, I heard. But I wouldn't call an outright refusal a minor glitch. In talking to Delores Sandoval I'd say you were dead in the water with your proposal."

His eyes widened in surprise when he realized I had been talking to the woman who had held his fate in her hands.

"There are other avenues we can pursue, Mr. Monahan. It's still a desirable piece of property."

"I agree. However, I see it as a golf course, only a properly developed and managed one. Right now it has almost no value other than as farm land which, according to Ms. Sandoval, is the only other zoning she would endorse." 

Norman Fears was not enjoying this conversation at all. I could see him getting a bit red in the face and I was wondering if he was about to lose his temper. That would be a bad business move. I was now pretty sure he was desperate to unload this property. He just wanted to get the most out of it that he could.

"I've had offers on the property so I'm not in a panic to sell," he said with more confidence than his eyes revealed.

"Really? Who is acting as your agent?"

"We've been handling it ourselves. I have a real estate license."

Another piece of useful information. A real estate agent trying to be a property developer. How novel. Not!

"Well, Mr. Fears, I have some further information to collect before I make an offer. When that is in my hands, I will contact you and we can meet again."

"Very well, Mr. Monahan, but don't be too long. The other offers are quite hot and I wouldn't want to see them withdrawn waiting for you."

"Understood, Mr. Fears. I'll make sure I'm back to you promptly. Here's my card with my phone number and e-mail address. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

"Thank you. I'll look forward to hearing from you," he said, rising from his chair but not offering his hand.

I nodded and escorted Catherine out of the office.

"That was short," she said as we took the elevator down from the fourth floor.

"No need to drag it out. I got all the information I could out of him this trip."

"What kind of information?"

"Well, let's see. If his secretary is out on an errand she is going to be a long time getting back. There's no sign of anyone else in the office besides Fears. Secondly, I'm betting he has no other offers. When he tried to bluff us with that crap about a minor glitch in the zoning I called him on it and he was pissed that I caught him. Now, he has to brazen out the non-existent 'other offers.'

"My bet is that I will be hearing from Mr. Fears by the day after tomorrow at the latest, probably claiming that he's about to accept another offer but wanted to give me the opportunity to bid ... being the good guy he is," I snorted.

"You got all this from that conversation? I mean, I agree, there is no secretary. No woman has a desk with absolutely nothing on it. But that business about the competing bids. Why are you so sure?"

"Who would want to buy that place in the shape it's in? Only a nut bar like me," I laughed. "No ... the only offers he's likely to have are from farmers who might want to add it to their existing land. Even then, they'd have to invest to clear and reclaim the land to make it arable. It's unlikely they'd offer what tilled farm land would be worth. So it's a bluff and not a very good one."

Catherine looked at me and the beginning of a small smile began.

"You're good at this, aren't you? This is what you did in Chicago, isn't it?"

"Something like this ... except it was for much bigger bucks."

"How much bigger?" she asked.

"My last merger finished out at four point four billion dollars."

"Oh my God! Did you say billion?"

I nodded. "I was a player in the big leagues for ten years. I learned every trick in the book when it came to valuing businesses and looking for strengths and weaknesses. After a while, it becomes second nature. Mr. Fears is a rank amateur. So now it's a case of finding out just how much trouble he's in. That will determine how much to offer him. You with me?"

She nodded, still awestruck by the number I had thrown out.

"Okay, our next move is to the county commissioner's office. We need to do a title search on the property. Let's make sure Fears actually owns the property and see if they are any encumbrances. I almost expect that we'll find he can't sell the property without an okay from his lender. In other words, he can't just dump it at whatever price he wants. I'm betting there's a bank in the picture and that is where the pressure to move the property is coming from. If I'm right, they ... the bank ... will be listed and we can talk to them before we try and deal with Fears."

"Why would the bank talk to us?"

"Because we might represent some new business to them. New business that is a lot more secure than Valley Investments. They might just cut their losses in order to re-mortgage the property to someone who can prove they've got the wherewithal to handle the debt ... and, have the approval of the county commission."

"Oh. This is complicated. Does that mean we don't have to deal with Mr. Fears."

"No. If he's the titled owner we have to deal with him. But if the bank knows and agrees with our plan, they can put pressure on him to settle with us as the best deal he can make."

"What are you thinking of doing ... I mean, what can you offer?"

"I'll get a reputable real estate agent to give me a valuation of farmland. That's usually a per acre price. That will tell us what the bottom line is. Then we can put our proposal together from that."

"Are you sure you can borrow the money?"

"Yes. I have a source in Chicago that will lend me all I would need at one percent above prime. I doubt the bank will go anywhere near that low. Just the same, I'll give them the option. We may want to do business with them anyway."

She nodded. "You've given this a lot of thought haven't you."

"I guess ... but I've done all this before in one way or another, so I kind of know how to get all my ducks in a row in a hurry."

"It's too fast for me to follow ... but ... it is exciting," she smiled. "I'd like to see how this all turns out."

"Stick around, Catherine. The ride can be real fun when it gets going."

The county commissioner's office provided me all the information I needed to know. Valley Investments did indeed hold title to the land and Norman D. Fears was listed as the sole principal of that company. A one man show, just as I expected. Along side Valley, however, was the name of the bank that held the loan and the property as collateral. Once again, no surprise. Norman had made a gamble and it wasn't going to pay off.

I called the bank, asking for the chief loans officer. I made an appointment with him for the following day. Might as well get the ball rolling early. When I hung up, I looked at my watch. It would be two o'clock in Chicago so I gave my old friend, Darrel Popovich, a call. 

Darrel was the prototypical venture capitalist and had provided funds for several of my smaller acquisition projects. He regularly worked at the low end of the interest scale with little more than a couple of points above prime. He promised, as a thank you for my turning business his way, that within reason, he would lend me what I needed at prime plus one. Within reason meant it wasn't too large a sum and wasn't too risky a venture. I thought this project fell within his spectrum.

It took less than fifteen minutes to get Darrel on board and that left only the bank and Mr. Norman Fears left to deal with.

"It was that easy?" Catherine said, shaking her head in wonder as I signed off the phone.

"Comes from my helping find some good projects for him to invest in. He'll own five percent of the golf course, but we'll get money cheaper than anywhere else, including some pretty big businesses. It's pretty small potatoes to him but he's grateful for my help in the past so one hand washes the other."


Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06



"I still can't get over how fast this is happening," she said.

"When opportunity knocks you've got to move fast. Not carelessly but quickly to take advantage of the situation. If the bank forecloses on Norman, that will be the end of Valley Investments. Norman Fears will have to start all over again and at his age ... well ... I wouldn't envy him. If he can escape with his skin still intact he might be able to survive. All we're going to do is offer him his skin."

"I know I shouldn't say this ... but this is scary fascinating. Is this what it was like in your other life?"

"Yes and no. It was much more high pressure because the stakes were much higher. The other thing was that it wasn't my company. I did the boss's bidding so he set the rules. They weren't always the best rules in my opinion, but it didn't matter. The boss is still the boss so you do what you're told."

"Until you don't want to anymore," she said, looking at me carefully.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding. 

"Come in, Mr. Monahan. I'm John Fortrand and I'm senior loan officer at Western States Savings and Loan.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Fortrand. This is Catherine Walston, my associate."

"Nice to meet you too, Ms. Walston. Won't you sit down? Can I offer you some tea, coffee, or water?"

"No thank you," I answered with Catherine following suit.

"I understand you're here to talk about the Bending Willows property. Are you considering purchasing it?"

"Possibly. It would be quite a project but I have the capital backing to put it back into an operating condition so it might be a good investment. In the meantime, I need to convince Mr. Norman Fears that I should buy the property from him and relieve him of that problem. From what I can tell he must be bleeding cash and a fairly steady rate."

Fortrand said nothing but I could see in his expression that I wasn't wrong in my assumption. 

"What is your background, Mr. Monahan? Have you been involved in golf course ownership before?"

"No, not at all. My background is mergers and acquisitions at Halverson & Clifton in Chicago. I spent ten years there, five of them as team leader. You can check my credentials with Mr. Brant Gooding, senior partner. However, I have an interest in acquiring my own business and since golf is one of my passions, this opportunity to rebuild a failed business and make it into the kind of golf club I would want to belong to is almost too good to pass up. Almost," I grinned.

"I understand. Well, what can we help you with?"

"I have secured some low cost venture capital to allow the purchase if I can negotiate the right price. Also, we would want to do business locally with a bank of good standing. So we would consider being a customer."

"Well, we would welcome new business, of course. About the first matter, I gather you're not seeking a loan for this purchase?"

"No, but we might want to establish a line of credit for emergency purposes. I'm thinking of weather related or other unexpected problems prior to insurance settlement, that sort of thing."

He nodded. "If I can be so bold, would you tell me what you will pay for your loan to acquire the business?"

"Prime plus one."

"That's remarkably low and far lower than I could provide. You have a very generous lender," he smiled.

"He benefited from several referrals I made for small and medium sized business who were in the acquisition mode. He's returning the favor."

"You can consider yourself well rewarded then. That will make your burden a lot easier to carry. Good luck to you. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"If it's not breaching a confidence, I'm wondering just how short a string Mr. Fears is on. I think he's at the stage where if he doesn't sell to me he may find he no longer owns the property. Then I suspect you and I would be trying to forge an agreement. If that happened, I'd like to be first in line."

He nodded. "Assuming it happens, and I'm not saying that would be imminent, but assuming for a moment, I would be happy to entertain a reasonable bid to take said property off the bank's hands."

"Excellent. Then we have an agreement. Now it's up to me to convince Mr. Fears to take the best option ... mine."

"Good luck, Mr. Monahan, and feel free to call on our services at any time. I'm sure our bank will enjoy doing business with Bending Willows once more as you bring it back to the land of the living."

"Thank you and thanks for your help. I'll let you know how I make out with Valley Investments."

We shook hands and Catherine and I headed out of the bank toward my car.

"He wants to do business with you ... he made that plain," she said.

"Yes, and frankly, I liked his attitude. He didn't violate any confidences but I do have an agreement that we would have first call on the property if it does default into their hands. I can't ask for more than that."

"So now what?"

"Now it's time to put pressure on Mr. Fears. We wait. I'm guessing he'll be calling me today or tomorrow at the latest to see if we intend to make a bid. It just may be that we might get some help from Mr. Fortrand if he should choose to call Mr. Fears and ask about when he might see payment on the loan, reminding him of his obligation. We'll soon know."

"You set him up, didn't you? I mean, Fears. You want the bank to call him and up the pressure."

"Now how in the world did you get that idea?" I smirked.

"I'm learning fast. This is what you could call a crash course in skullduggery."

"I'm offended, Ms. Walston. Do you really think I would do such a thing?"

"Hah. You already have. And I sat there and watched it all happen like I was a spectator at a play. Is it always this ... sneaky?"

"Nope. Sometimes sneakier, sometimes not so much. Are you bothered by it?"

"No. I guess not. That Norman guy gave me the creeps this morning. And did you see his suit. It looked like he slept in it. Not exactly the picture of success."

"That's very good. See ... your powers of observation are sharpened when you're in this environment. And you noticed the secretary's desk as well. He wasn't going to put one over on you either."

"I think you're leading me astray, Terry Monahan. I don't know whether I should trust you after what I saw and heard today."

"What?" I said, my hands pleading innocence. "I just introduced you to the first steps in saving and resurrecting Bending Willows Golf Club. That club might want to feature an established young woman LPGA member. I hear she might be available," I kidded.

"Bribery will get you nowhere," she laughed, then turned serious. "Don't kid about stuff like that, Terry. That's too close to home."

"I wasn't kidding. A club with a tour player has something to promote itself with. Even a former tour player."

"That's a tall order. You'd have to recruit one and convince them it's a good deal."

"Yep. Not simple but with a legitimate touring pro as a partner and resident it might not be so difficult."

"You got it all figured out, haven't you," she said, with a raised eyebrow and a somewhat disdainful look.

"No ... not really. I'm running on adrenalin right now. I'm hyped by the idea that I might be able to own and run a golf club. That's a charge-and-a-half. I can see all kinds of things I want to do and want to have when it's up and running. I want prospective members lined up for memberships. I'm not interested in some high-rent course that caters to the rich. I want something aimed right at the middle-class golfer and his family. Something they can afford and are proud to belong to. Maybe that sounds crazy, but that's the dream."

Catherine smiled as we drove back toward her apartment. She must have been thinking about what my ambitions for the club were. Perhaps to her it sounded like pie-in-the-sky, but to me it was real and I wasn't going to compromise if I could possibly avoid it.

Chapter 6 Getting to the End Game

Catherine would be back at Ghost Creek the next day, playing a practice round for a local tournament that she had entered. The prize money wasn't tour quality. It was the competition that she craved. It was a chance to show herself that she still had the ability to compete. She promised to call me and let me know how she did. In turn, I told her I probably would have heard from Norman Fears by then so I'd let her know that as well.

I had dinner at a chain restaurant that evening, trying something a little different than meat and potatoes once more. The seafood platter looked good so I ordered that along with a beer. When I was done I went back to my room and went over my notes from today's events. Things were going along just the way I hoped they would. 

I wondered about Catherine. My decision to include her seemed like a polite gesture at first, since she had led me to Bending Willows. But afterward I realized she was easy to be with, bright and a good foil for my ego. She asked the right questions and forced me to think about my reasons and actions. Besides all that she was attractive to be with and I was still craving some companionship, even if this wasn't the intimate kind.

Why was I so sure I was right about buying this course? Was I walking into a trap? Was I kidding myself that this derelict place had potential? Was I moving too fast? I'd pretty much convinced myself that I was in control and everything was going just the way I wanted it to. I was so sure ... wasn't I?

Shit, this was just one more risk, that's all. That's what I did for a living, take risks. Make deals, put enemies together and have them work side-by-side, make little companies into bigger ones, make little men into bigger men. It was all a gamble. Roll the dice and see what came up. Well ... maybe load the dice in my favor now and then. That's what they paid me for. That's what I was good at. Now ... this time ... it's just for me. The risk and reward was all on me. Isn't that what I wanted?

Sleep came fitfully that night. I was rushing into a venture that didn't yet have a form or a decent business plan. I'd never have put up with that in my old job so why was I allowing it to happen now? I tossed and turned until I dozed off, only to wake a couple of hours later with my mind still working full speed.

I got up at five thirty, knowing I wouldn't go back to sleep. I pulled on a pair of running shorts, a floppy-loose t-shirt, my running shoes and headed for the exercise room. I used my room card to get in, flicked on the lights and mounted a stationary bike. I was ignoring my fitness again and that had to stop. It was time to get back into a routine. 

I rode the bike for twenty minutes and according to the little computer, I traveled over five miles and burned a hundred-and-seventy calories. My legs were burning a bit but it could have been worse. I sat on the rowing machine and spent the next ten minutes pulling at a steady thirty per minute at medium resistance. I took a rest, wiped the sweat off my face and neck with a towel, and took a long drink of water from the bottle I'd brought from the room. Finally, I pulled a hundred pounds on the Nautilus twenty times and called it a workout. 

I'd probably pay for my over-exuberance later that morning but I had to start somewhere. A week of this routine would put an end to the pains in all likelihood. I just had to get back into the habit. It was also time to think about my diet. Restaurant food was no recipe for fitness or good health, despite what the menu claimed. It was time to get back to some good habits instead of my collection of bad ones.

I showered and dressed in what had become my latest uniform: polo shirt, khakis, loafers and, when necessary, a blazer. I thought maybe it was time to find somewhere else to stay. I went down for the buffet breakfast and avoided the eggs, sausage and hash browns, settling for juice, dry cereal, a bran muffin, and coffee. My legs were telling me that perhaps I'd overdone it this morning, but nothing I couldn't live with. 

I called Catherine and found her on the sixth tee, waiting for the group ahead.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Pretty good, actually. I hope I can keep it up for the tournament."

"I'm sure you will. I've seen your game. You'll be fine."

"Thanks. Is that why you called?"

"No ... I just wanted to make sure you had my cell phone number."

"No problem, I've got caller ID and I'll save it right away. In the meantime I've got to go. Talk to you later," she said, ending the call before I could wish her good luck. Damn.

I called John Fortrand and gave him my cell number and he made a note of it. Next it was Norman Fears.

"Mr. Fears, I called to let you know my cell number. I can give it to you, if you like."

"Yes, thank you. I wanted to call you anyway. I was wondering if you had decided to put in a bid on the Bending Willows property?"

"I probably will but I haven't had the opportunity to get all the information I need to make an appropriate offer. I should have it by the end of the week however," I said, grinning to myself.

"I'm not sure I can guarantee that the property will still be available then, Mr. Monahan. Are you sure you can't provide a bid sooner than that?"

"I have to do my due diligence, sir. That's my protection as I'm sure you realize. I'll do what I can to get the package ready as soon as possible. That's the best I can offer. If you do have a solid offer in the meantime I'll understand if you choose to accept it. No hard feelings."

"I see. Well, do what you can to prepare something as soon as you are able and I'll try and hold off the other bids. I'll look forward to hearing for you."

We signed off and I smirked as I hung up. There it was right in front of him. If he really did have another hot offer it would be gone by the weekend. But I was dead certain he didn't and his game was as transparent as glass. I'd know soon enough.

Catherine phoned just after three o'clock.

"Hi, Catherine. How did it go?"

"Good and bad, Terry. I shot one under par and I felt good. I'm ready for tomorrow. Unfortunately, my caddy had an accident and sprained his ankle. I don't have anyone to replace him."

"Is there no one else who can take his place?" I asked in ignorance.

"Not really. I could hire some kid, but I wouldn't have anyone who knew anything about my game or me for that matter. It wouldn't work out."

"Well," I said, thinking fast. "I don't see any alternative then. I'll have to caddy for you."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes ... absolutely. First of all we know each other ... at least a little bit. And, I've played two games with you which gives me some clue about your game. On top of that, I have the time and the willingness to do it. So ... what do you say?"

"Are you sure about this, Terry?" 

"Damn sure. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Uhhm ... eight o'clock I guess. My tee time is ten-oh-eight. I want to spend a few minutes on the practice tee."

"Great ... this is really going to be interesting. I'm looking forward to it."

"Are you really sure about this?" she asked again.

"For Pete's sake, Catherine, I said I would and I meant it," I said, feigning irritation.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're hired," she laughed.

"Good, that's settled then. I'm going to be a big help, I promise."

"I'm sure you will be. I'll see you in the morning. Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. Bye."

"Bye. Get some rest. Take care."

I hung up with a very good feeling about tomorrow. I was looking forward to my first caddying experience and it would be with Catherine, someone I genuinely liked being with.

I stopped at the shopping centre grocery store and picked up some Sushi and noodle take-out, a bottle of orange juice, a couple of bananas and a package of English muffins. That would look after tonight's meal and tomorrow's breakfast. I headed back to the Embassy Suites, knowing my room had a microwave for the noodles and a small refrigerator to keep the Sushi.

I watched some TV in the evening and went to bed early, just after ten. I slept well, unlike the night before. I woke at my usual time, six, and headed down to the exercise room. I repeated my exercises from the day before, surprisingly without any after effects from my efforts of either day. Perhaps I wasn't in as bad a shape as I had thought.

Catherine looked terrific in her outfit for the first round today when I picked her up. A pale blue top, white shorts, long white socks and white shoes. She had a dark blue visor that she wore only when playing. Her bag was fairly big but I'd seen bigger and when I hefted it into the Audi I didn't think it would cause me any problems carrying it.

When we got to the course Catherine went through her routine. She checked her bag for the number of clubs and made sure she had her rain gear even if it didn't look like rain today. She counted the dozen or so balls that had been marked with her distinctive sign. The mark was a little :-) "smiley face" that I assumed was unique to her. I was impressed that she was thorough and very dedicated to her pre-game routine.

Next was the practice range. She didn't have to buy any balls ... they were supplied for the competitors. The course was closed to all but the players. I watched her go through most of the clubs in her bag, carefully setting up and striking each ball with a purpose. I saw her work on shaping shots to show a draw or occasionally a fade. As I stood there, I realized she had all the skills. Now it would be down to competitive ambition and nerves. 

We reported to the starter well in advance of her tee time, making sure they were aware she was on the premises. She would be playing in a threesome and while I didn't recognize the name of her competitors, she knew them and wasn't concerned. I could see her beginning to focus on her game and hers alone. It was that competitive instinct that took over with true athletes and it was something I had seen before in businessmen. I was among them, I was told.

When we were called to the tee, I handed her the driver. "Good luck. I think you're going to do well today."

She smiled back at me but said nothing. She was already in her zone.

She hit her first drive and it was almost a replica of the drive she hit when I first played this course with her. She wasn't the longest but it was in perfect position for her second shot. Again, her second was just like the one I remembered from a few days ago. Right at the pin and short, but rolling up within ten feet for a birdie try.

I was tempted to applaud but remembered my role and gave her a big smile and a "lovely shot" murmured as I handed her the putter. I got a nice smile in return. She stood over the putt after having surveyed the break, pulled the club back and smoothly stroked through. The ball tracked unerringly into the center of the cup. She was one under after one. A perfect start.

By the end of the round Catherine was two under par, with three birdies and one bogey. Her putting had saved her from any more bogeys and her drives and mid-irons had kept her on or near the green. When I checked the card, she had hit ten of thirteen fairways and those she missed were in the first cut of rough. She hit fourteen of eighteen greens in regulation, so all in all, it was a very well played round. When I checked the leader board she was in third, tied with four other golfers.

"I'm really impressed, Catherine. You played that round perfectly. You keep doing that and you'll be in contention for the win all the way."

"Yes, thanks, Terry," she smiled as we enjoyed a drink after the game. "I felt good today. Very few missed shots and made a lot of putts. I'd be happy with three rounds like that. How did you make out? It looked like that bag was getting pretty heavy near the end of the game."

"I've developed a new respect for professional caddies," I admitted. "I'm just glad it wasn't a hot, humid day. That would have been tough. We were out there almost five hours."




Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06



"You sure you still want to do this?" she grinned.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I forgot to ask you. What have you heard from Norman Fears?"

"Nothing. I called him yesterday and gave him my new cell number. He started giving me the usual guff about not being able to hold off the other bidders much longer and I told him that if I couldn't get my bid in soon to go ahead and accept the best other bid. I told him I wouldn't hold that against him."

"Whoa, you do like to live on the edge, don't you?"

"I'm pretty much certain he doesn't have any other bids. Now the ball's in his court. Let's see how he responds. He should be getting fairly antsy by now, especially since I've had my phone turned off all day," I smiled, pulling it out of my pocket and turning it on.

"Oh look ... a message from Mr. Fears. I wonder what that's about," I laughed.

Catherine was shaking her head but had a smile on her lips at the same time. I think she was enjoying this as much as I was.

"Are you going to call him?"

"Yes indeed. It's Friday afternoon and it wouldn't be polite to let him sit in ignorance for the whole weekend."

I punched in his number and listened. It was picked up after two rings.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fears. It's Terry Monahan. I'm sure I know why you are calling. I'm afraid I won't have my bid ready until Monday morning. I've taken on another project that is keeping me occupied today and through the weekend. I'm awfully sorry about that. I'll understand if you choose to go ahead with someone else."

"This really is inconvenient, Mr. Monahan. I've made a special effort to give you additional time and you've failed to make each extension. Are you positive this time that you will have a proposal on Monday morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Fears, I am positive. How about if we meet at ten o'clock and we can present our proposal?"

"Very well, Mr. Monahan, but this is the last extension I can possibly grant. Please do not fail to meet this deadline."

"I promise I'll have my proposal to you at ten o'clock this coming Monday morning. You have my solemn word, sir."

"Very well, I'll see you then. Good day, Mr. Monahan."

"Good day, Mr. Fears, and have a good weekend," I finished, snapping the phone closed. I had a smile on my face. Another two days he'd have to sweat it out. Perfect!

"If you're right, he must be going crazy by now," Catherine laughed.

"Oh ... I hope so. He only dislikes me now. By late Monday morning he's going to hate me."

Catherine was shaking her head in wonder. "I'm sure glad I'm on your side."

I gave her a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're on my side too."

Catherine had showered and changed before we sat down so with the clubs in my car we headed back to Lake Oswego to drop her off at her apartment. I thought about inviting her to dinner but she was concentrating on this tournament and I felt I would be smart to leave the socializing until after it was over.

Saturday dawned cloudy, cool and windy. Catherine chose brown slacks, brown shoes, a light tan sweater and a nylon shell to begin with. As she warmed up, I could see that she wasn't quite as sharp as she was yesterday but I said nothing. It wasn't my place to give her advice or upset her routine. I was here to carry her bag and give her encouragement.

The weather had a big effect on the scoreboard that day. The wind was unpredictable as it blew among the trees. It was generally from the southeast, but it would swirl through the big evergreens causing high shots to drift off line, sometimes quite dramatically.

If Catherine had any advantage it was her course knowledge and experience playing in all kinds of weather here and on the pro tour. Just the same, she fought the elements all day and ended up two over for the round and even for the tournament. Any other day that would have put her well back but no one was able to rise to the occasion and she was still in fourth place, just three strokes back.

"You didn't have much fun out there today," I remarked as we shared a drink afterwards.

"I'm not fond of playing in windy conditions. I have a hell of a time judging my approach shots because I hit the ball high. A couple of times I was tempted to choke down on a five iron and run the ball up, but I chickened out and stuck with what I was used to."

"You hit most of your fairways again today so the wind didn't bother your drives as much. You didn't hit as many greens in regulation as you did yesterday. You had to do a lot of scrambling to save par. I think you only had a couple of decent birdie opportunities all day. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

"It will need to be. I won't win playing like I did today. I'm three down as it is, so I need a hot round and I need the other girls to weaken. Anyway," she smiled, "that's my plan and I'm sticking to it."

I gave her a big smile and patted her hand. I liked her attitude and I was really enjoying being with her. I felt a little stronger on the bag today. I was getting my legs back and the cooler weather had been a help in keeping me from fatigue.

The wind dropped overnight and when I picked Catherine up, she was back to wearing shorts with a light sweater as on the day before. The shell was in her bag if needed. A few clouds looked like they would burn off as the day went on and it should warm up to seasonal temperatures, the mid-to-high sixties.

Our tee time was later since we were in the next to last group. It would be almost noon by the time we teed off. I bought some sandwiches and water at the restaurant and packed them in the bag. Even if Catherine didn't want to eat, I would. It was going to be a long, tense day, something I hadn't experienced before at this close range. I was nervous and I thought Catherine would be too, but she didn't show it. She looked as calm and focused as she always did. 

On the practice tee she was back to hitting those nice, crisp shots I'd seen on Friday. If she kept that up she'd have a good chance to compete for the win. She spent a bit of extra time around the putting and chipping green, getting used to reading the greens. The holes would be in their third different location today, so every putt would be from a different perspective.

Finally, our group was called and we moved onto the tee. Catherine hit second and launched a nice solid drive that didn't slide back toward the middle and ended up in the first cut of rough on the right side about two-seventy out. Not a problem from what I could see.

When she hit her second shot, a solid nine iron, it flew off the club face, landing just behind the pin to the right but rolling away and off the back of the green. She had an improbable birdie chance from there. I watched her but she didn't portray any emotion that I could see. She didn't want to give anything away to her opponents. 

That bit of practice on the chipping area paid off as she rolled as lovely, low, seven iron chip down the slope stopping two feet past the pin. It was almost a tap-in for par. Her opponents parred as well and nothing had changed. I looked back up the fairway and saw one of the final group was well off the fairway with a very difficult shot to the green. I don't think Catherine noticed but I would be watching them and, when we could see it, the leader board. 

By the turn, Catherine was two under for the round and the tournament and could have been four under with a bit of luck on the greens. She had lipped out two ten-foot attempts. She was making everything else inside that distance. I looked at the leader board and saw that one of her competitors had fallen away, now one over par for the tournament. One down, two to go. The others were just as they had started, so at this point Catherine had gained two strokes and was only one behind.

I know she was aware of her position but you couldn't tell anything from her expression and she said absolutely nothing to me about it. She was trying hard to keep herself on an even keel and just play her game. So far it was working.

I offered her a sandwich as we waited on the eleventh tee and she accepted a half along with a water bottle. The sky had broken and we were in sunshine with the temperature rising. She had removed her sweater and had taken a few practice swings to get used to the new feeling. I was admiring her very feminine figure as she did so, thinking just how attractive this woman was.

On the back nine we had a couple of television cameras following the last three groups. They were from local TV stations as this tournament wasn't being broadcast live. The marshals were busy keeping them from getting in the way or distracting the golfers. It didn't look like either cameraman had any experience shooting a golf tournament. Just the same, if it bothered Catherine or her opponents, it didn't show.

The gallery was sparse up until the fourteenth hole. It was a long par three, listed at two-oh-nine. I assumed Catherine would hit a five wood but she asked for her hybrid three. I almost said something about it not being enough club but held my tongue. This was her game not mine and I was in no position to judge. When I looked more carefully, I saw a downhill shot with only one long trap along the left side of the green. This shouldn't be too difficult.

The pin was tight to the left side so any errant shot to the left would likely end up in the trap, or worse, in a depression left of the trap. The sensible shot was to the middle of the green. Catherine still held the honor and set up what looked like a straight shot at the center of the green. Even if it wasn't enough club she would have a wide open chip to the pin. Probably a safe shot then. What did I know?

As usual, her shot lifted high into the blue sky above the trees then began to turn left. Not a great deal ... just enough that when it landed on the front of the green it ran up toward the pin, stopping fifteen feet short and slightly to the right. Some safety shot. I just shook my head. It was her best shot of the day in my opinion. She must have thought so too because for the first time she had a smile as I exchanged her hybrid for the putter.

I thought for a moment that she would miss the putt to the right but at the last moment it broke for the cup and dropped inside the right edge. She fist pumped her pleasure and walked back to me once again with a smile. Three under and now tied for the lead we thought. As she handed me the putter she muttered "local knowledge" under her breath. Local knowledge indeed. First the club selection, then the putt.

We heard a brief roar and applause behind us and I assumed one of our opponents had scored a birdie. Sure enough, a few minutes later the word came down that we were once more one down to the morning leader, Miranda Caldwell. However, there were four holes to play and the fifteenth was both an opportunity and a challenge. 

We were playing from what were essentially the blue tees, so it was five-hundred and thirty yards of immediate dog-leg left to a long, straight fairway. Traps left and right at the driving areas and a lightly guarded green to the right of the end of the fairway. It was rated the number two stroke hole, so I assumed it would be tough.

Catherine still held the honor as both her opponents had begun to fade. She hit her usual right to left draw, aiming down the middle to finish on the left side of the wide fairway. Again, it was textbook. She was like a machine with that driver. Moreover, she didn't show the slightest sign of pressure. She was one behind with not much time to make a move. This had to be one of her best opportunities.

I was about to hand her the three metal when she asked for the five.

"I want enough room for a wedge, Terry. I can't get there in two so I want to be in the right position to get at the pin."

I nodded and handed her the club. It was the first time I could remember her explaining her thinking. Was this a sign of pressure? I wondered and yet I agreed completely with her thinking. She proved herself to be right with a lovely straight shot to the right side of the fairway, about seventy-five yards from the center of the green. The pin was tucked to the back left-center of the green, daring a big hitter to go for it.

All three of our group laid up, none of them choosing to go for the green even though I thought one of them had the length to make it. Considering they were now three and four shots back, it might have been worth a try but, that's not what they decided. With a competitor's ball already twenty feet left and short of the pin, it was Catherine's turn. She took her sand wedge, surveyed the line, then stepped up and lifted another high lob toward the pin. It dropped as softly as a penny on a blanket five feet from the hole and stayed there. Perfect.

This time as she came back to me she raised her hand in the universal high-five salute and I met it on cue. Yes indeed, the emotions were beginning to show. The excitement of playing at the top of her game was beginning to come out late in the contest. Now it was a matter of containing those emotions and finishing this game.

She made the putt with ease and passed me the putter with a smile that spoke volumes for just how pumped she was with how things were going. Three holes to play and at least tied for the lead now at four under for the round and the tournament.

"If Miranda has a big drive, she'll go for this in two," she said as we walked to the sixteenth.

I didn't respond. I wasn't even sure if she was talking to me or to herself. Better now to just stay quiet and let her play.

Sixteen was a short par three, playing just one-hundred and thirty yards today. The green was surrounded by traps and I remembered from my round that anything long off the back would end up a long way from the pin. The target was very small, and a birdie here would be no small accomplishment.

Catherine stood looking at the green for several seconds before coming over to me and asking for her nine iron. Again, I wondered if that wasn't too much club but I said nothing and tried not to betray my opinion with my expression. My training in the board room had taught me well and I didn't detect any doubt on Catherine's face. 

As it turned out, I shouldn't have worried. She hit what seemed to be a soft shot, again very high. I watched it land fifteen feet to the left of the pin near the left edge of the green. There were several traps that might have come into play if she'd tried to go directly for the flag, as tempting as that might be. Once more the smart shot told me she was still in control of her game. There was no need to panic.

We couldn't have known what happened behind us, but apparently the leader had only managed a par on fifteen as we stepped on the seventeenth tee. That was a lost shot as far as we were concerned and I got an "I told you so" look from Catherine. She knew her opponent and it had paid off.

Seventeen was a short par four, three-hundred-and-thirty yards, but with a meandering creek from the front of the tee boxes along the left side of the fairway and crossing over in front of the green and running along its right side. It was a strategy hole and I remembered how Catherine and I played it when we were last here. A three metal in front of the creek and a wedge to the green. 

"You think your opponent might try to drive this green?" I asked her as we waited for the group in front to clear. Someone had gone in the creek and that had slowed them up.

"Could be," she said, turning to me with a grin. I think she was hoping that's exactly what she would do.

That was almost as many words as we had spoken the entire game. I hoped I hadn't broken her concentration, but it didn't seem so. Just the same, I vowed to shut up and keep my thoughts to myself.

Catherine had retained the honor for the entire back nine to that point and led the group off with a perfectly placed three metal on the left side of the landing area in front of the creek. I guessed that she was about a hundred yards back, almost perfect position for one of her high, soft shots. Our two opponents both laid up but were on the wider right side of the landing area. It would be a more difficult shot to get near the pin from there.

Catherine studied her shot for a few moments before coming back and asking for her pitching wedge. I had finally stopped second-guessing her club selection. It might not have been what I would hit, but it was what she was comfortable with. Catherine was away so she stepped up, checked her line, and swung. I marveled at the height she got from these shots and just how softly and smoothly she swung, still getting distance from the effort. 

Her ball landed in the center of the green about fifteen feet left of the flag. Not as close as I expected but I didn't see any hint of disappointment from her. Her opponents weren't so lucky. One missed holding the green and found the trap to the right of the flag, while the other was long and in jail behind the green. Both were facing a bogey that would slide them even further down the leader board.

Catherine's putt had a slight left to right break as I read it. She must have agreed as she lined up that way and stroked the ball nicely. It ran right on her line until it got to within three feet of the cup where it bumped up and kicked slightly right, missing the right edge of the hole. A missed opportunity. She walked forward and tapped in, examining the ground around the hole and finally picking something up before walking back to me. Expressionless, she handed me the putter then showed me a tiny pebble in the palm of her hand. That had been the culprit.

"That was careless of me. I should have spotted that," was the only thing she said as we headed off to what might be our final hole, still tied for the lead. We could see the leader board near the clubhouse now and it showed what I suspected. There were only two players in contention for the trophy, Miranda Caldwell and Catherine Walston. Everyone else was at least three shots back. It was showdown time.

Number eighteen was playing four hundred and thirty yards from tee to green. The test here was to avoid a very large pond along the final one hundred yards and bracketing the entire right side of the green. There were no traps to worry about, but the narrow approach to the relatively small green was difficult to say the least. Water on the right and trees and bush on the left. Accuracy was everything and from about one-sixty or so after a decent drive it would be a challenge. I had a feeling this was the hole that was going to decide the tournament.

I remembered I had gotten away with a bogey here when I played my second off the left side of the green and into the bush. I had a playable lie, but it still took me two shots to get near the pin and walk away with a five. Catherine would have to do better than that.

Her drive was like almost every other drive that day. I couldn't remember her missing a fairway after the first and I was pretty sure she hadn't. This one was no exception. Well placed down the left side with a reasonably straight shot into the green. Still, she would have to carry some water but the way she was striking the ball that seemed like a non-factor.

Both her opponents were to the right and away, so they went first. The first shot was well to the left side of the green, away from the pin which naturally was tucked over by the water. The second was equally cautious, this time rolling off the left edge and forcing the woman to make a delicate downhill chip toward the water. She wouldn't enjoy that shot very much, I thought.

I watched Catherine carefully. There was no sign that she was tight or nervous. She went through her alignment routine and then set up. She'd chosen a seven iron and as it climbed into the air I had the feeling that this was the shot of the game for her. This one would make the difference. I was right.




Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06



It landed just to the left of the pin and stopped almost exactly pin high. She was ten feet or a little more from a birdie. It was a brave but precise shot and as I got over my euphoria I could hear the applause and whistles from the gallery around the eighteenth green. She came back to me with a huge smile and maybe a look of relief as well. Again, a high five and this time accompanied by a fist pump. Now the adrenalin was flowing.

"Hell of a shot, girl," I said, breaking my silence.

"Best today. Just when I needed it."

I pulled out her putter and we walked to the green, both of us smiling while Catherine acknowledged the applause. It must have felt fantastic ... win or lose she had played like a champion. Sink this final putt and she would shoot five under for the day and the tournament. More importantly, she would be one up in the clubhouse. Then it would be up to Ms. Caldwell to catch her.

The woman with the long chip off the left side of the green got overly cautious and left her ball ten feet short and just inches from Catherine's marker. That would benefit us, I thought. We would get to see almost the exact line that the ball would track. The other woman made an excellent putt, finishing just inches short of the cup and tapped in for her par. A round of applause was acknowledged and then it was the next opponent's turn.

I stood with Catherine on the left side of the green, anxious to see where this ball would go. My sighting suggested it would break down to the right as much as six inches. I couldn't tell what Catherine was thinking but she was definitely paying attention. The woman stroked her putt and I watched as it followed my imaginary line until it was a foot from the hole when it took an abrupt right turn, missing the cup by several inches as it died. I didn't see that at all. Was that what Catherine could expect?

It couldn't have been too surprising to her. She had played this course many times before and must have encountered that putt more than once. I had to hope she could make the right stroke to get the ball to cooperate and find the cup. It wasn't going to be an easy finish.

Catherine spent more than a minute surveying the line and the green along the path of her ball. No more pebbles to disrupt the roll. No surprises. Just pick the line, stroke the ball and wait for the result. When she finally decided that she had the line she stepped up, checked her alignment, took a couple of final looks at the target, then stroked the putt. 

It seemed like ages before the ball reached the cup. It had followed the line her opponent had chosen, but I could see a little more pace on it. If she missed this it might go four or five feet past. Not what you'd want for a finishing putt. But it didn't. It didn't make that abrupt right turn at all, instead it curved a glorious arc and dropped into the left centre of the cup. Birdie! Take that Miranda.

The galley burst into applause, complete with whistles and the odd shout. Catherine had raised her putter as the ball neared the cup and stood on her tiptoes as it dropped. She leaned over and plucked it out, holding it up to the gallery in triumph. He smile was brilliant and the joy on her face was unmistakable. She removed her visor and shook hands with her competitors and their caddies, as did I. When that was finished, she walked to me, handing me the putter and pulling out her scorecard. There was still business to be done, but I could tell by the look on her face the elation she felt.

"Well done, Catherine," I said. "That was a superb round. Your opponent is going to have to go some to steal this away from you. I'm thinking this is a great come-from-behind win."

She grinned and nodded. Her body language spoke of satisfaction and the high of a great performance under pressure. She hadn't bent or shown any sign of weakness all day. She didn't flinch when a tiny pebble cost her a stroke that might still make a difference. Now it was a matter of waiting to see if Miranda Caldwell could match or better her score. There may still be some golf to play.

Catherine disappeared in to the room where the official scorer was stationed and spent a few minutes going over her card to make sure there were no errors. With her attention to detail, I would have been surprised if there were any, but she was being her usual thorough self. When she reappeared, a number of people approached her to talk to her. Some were reporters and some were well-wishers. She handled them all politely, gave a couple of short interviews, emphasizing that the tournament wasn't over yet and anything could happen. 

We stood waiting for the final group to appear on the eighteenth tee. The crowd had now surrounded the tee box as well as the left side of the fairway, joining the already large group of spectators at the green. It was quite a sight and it would be intimidating to most people. Professional golfers, however, weren't most people.

When I looked back at the leader board I saw that Ms. Caldwell had posted a par on the seventeenth. I had guessed that since I heard no roar of approval for anything better.

Catherine was standing beside me, intently focused on her opponent's threesome. Hands by her side, silently wondering if she would end up in a tie and have to head for the seventeenth for a playoff.

In an unthinking moment, I took her hand in mine and squeezed it softly. She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and leaned into me. 

"Thank you, Terry. No matter how this turns out you were great these last three days. For a guy who'd never done this before you got everything just right."

"Thank you for the opportunity," I said sincerely. "It was a terrific experience. I won't forget this for a long time. And as far as how this turns out ... I have a feeling it's already decided. But it won't take long to find out."

An eagle to win, a birdie to tie or it was all over for Miranda Caldwell. Ms. Caldwell was about twenty years older than Catherine and had plenty of competitive experience but not on the LPGA tour. She was what Catherine described as a "local legend," someone who had been playing and winning regional tournaments in the Northwest for years.

We watched her drive and it landed in a safe area a little right of center. Catherine had said she tended to fade the ball so she had a good deal more water to deal with on her second shot. All three of that group were in play on the fairway, and as usual Ms. Caldwell was longest. Her opponents both found the green with safe shots, quite some distance from the pin however.

Miranda's shot was good but not great. There would be no eagle for victory and her birdie try would be from something over fifteen feet by my estimation. She would have to sink this putt to tie and that didn't look like an easy task.

"Her putt has two breaks and is pretty quick. She makes this and she deserves to tie," Catherine whispered.

"Not going to happen," I said confidently. She turned to me, smiled and squeezed my hand.

The two women away made their approach putts and put themselves in position for a par. It was Miranda's turn ... do or die. We watched her go through her routine, surveying the line several times before stepping up to the putt. If she had any nervousness she didn't show it. The gallery had gone completely silent and waited for her to make the stroke.

When she did I was holding my breath and unknowingly squeezing Catherine's hand. I watched as the ball rolled through the two small undulations and began its break toward the cup. It had picked up some speed and seemed to be on the right line until it was three feet from the hole when it stopped turning and rolled by the top of the cup, missing by only an inch.

The gasp from the crowd and then the polite applause told the story. Catherine had turned to me and we were hugging each other in relief. She had won. She had come from behind and won, playing brilliantly when it really mattered. We broke and she walked over to Miranda and shook her hand, then chatted with her for a moment. They knew each other well despite the fact that they played at different clubs. 

A brief ceremony by the tournament director and the title sponsor, a hardware chain, only confirmed the obvious. Catherine Walston was the 2010 Northern Oregon Open Women's Champion. She was also presented with an oversized check for ten thousand dollars as first prize money along with an attractive trophy that was hers to keep.

When the congratulations and media interviews were done she joined me at the clubhouse patio where I had been waiting for her. Her clubs were in my Audi and I was relaxing, seeing just how much this victory had pleased her. It must have reaffirmed her belief in herself, I thought. I wondered if it would lure her back onto the LPGA tour.

"I owe you a thousand dollars and a huge thank you, Terry. You can't know how much you kept me calm, especially today. I haven't won in so long I'd forgotten what it feels like. We made a great team out there," she enthused.

"I gather the thousand dollars is the normal fee for a caddy ... ten percent?" I asked.

"Yes, and you earned every penny."

"Keep it. I did this for a friend and I can't take anything for it except the enjoyment of watching you play so beautifully."

"I insist!" she said forcefully. "It's part of the tradition you know."

"Tell you what. I'll let you buy dinner tonight. You put that money in the bank. Your new job starts tomorrow."

"What new job?"

"Executive Assistant to the President, Bending Willows Golf Club."

"Are you serious? You don't have the club yet."

"I will by noon hour tomorrow. You'll be there to witness the transaction."

She sat silently, looking at me in amazement. "You aren't kidding are you?"

She was still having trouble believing me.

"No ... I'm not kidding. Your salary will be fifty thousand dollars annually, but there will be bonus opportunities and share options when I set the company up. You will be the first official employee of Bending Willows, LLC."

"This is completely crazy, Terry. We hardly know each other much less whether I'm capable of doing this job you propose. On top of that you don't own the course yet and you're gambling that Fears doesn't have a better offer. What am I supposed to think?"

"You told me you had a degree in business administration and administration is what every business needs. You may not have much real work experience but from what I've seen we can work together and make this happen. We both have a love of the game and we both have the background to help us run a successful business. Now it's just a matter of putting the pieces together and creating something out of what is essentially nothing."

"I don't know, Terry. This seems awfully flighty ... if you don't mind me saying so."

"I'm sure it must seem like that to you, but I've seen empires built from what only seemed like dreams at first. Passion and dedication are required but common sense has to come into the equation as well. Proper financing, a good concept, knowing your market, execution and, I guess to be truthful, a bit of luck. That's the basic formula."

"You want me with you when you see Norman Fears tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. You are part of the management team. You need to know what is going on even though you probably will guess the outcome. Besides, it will be an interesting study in human behavior. I expect Mr. Fears might just come apart at the seams."

"You don't expect violence do you?"

"Hardly likely. He doesn't look like the type to get physical and if he did I can handle him. You won't be in any danger. I won't allow that to happen."

She looked at me for a while before saying, "I need a shower. I'll buy dinner and you can tell me what my responsibilities are going to be. I assume if you do buy the course you will be incorporating it under a new name?"

"Yes. You won't be officially on the payroll until then so your check from today will have to tide you over for a day or two."

She smiled for the first time in a while. "I think I can handle that."

To Be Continued