Chapter 96

Saturday, July 28

I was up and moving before 7 a.m., ensuring I would get to the house early enough to have breakfast with my grandparents, change clothes and get to the pool on time.

As hectic as mornings could be for the four of us, I wasn’t prepared for how the addition of my grandparents seemed to increase the chaos exponentially. First up was my failure to realize Grandpa would claim my spot in the carport for his Cadillac. No problem, I just backed out to the street and pulled into the front drive.

I was enjoying a fresh cinnamon roll — Grandma was addicted to baking and was trying to pass it on to my sister — when I got hit with the next bit of wackiness. My grandmother was commandeering my car to take Kacie shopping for her birthday present. As powerful as the Mom look is, try withstanding the Grandma look. Now group it with the Mom look and the Little Sister look.

I surrendered my keys.

Dad and Grandpa were taking the other “Matchbox car” to their golf date with Mr. Patterson, Mr. Richards and Dr. Ensberry. This was made possible because Grandpa had dropped his gear off at the pro shop last night. Tee time was 9 a.m. and they both wanted to hit a bucket.

I asked Dad if he’d give me 64 million to 1 on another father-son hole-in-one on No. 14. I couldn’t believe my dad passed up a chance at an easy buck.

With everyone else in motion, I went to my room to change clothes and head to work. I stepped out of the front door to find my little sister in the driver’s seat of the Beemer with my grandmother riding shotgun. I fought back a tear at the thought of my baby going off on her own. Kacie had better take good care of her.

I jogged to the pool in plenty of time to rinse off and dress for work. There was another extra-large delivery to sort and requests to fulfill. The temperature was already nudging 100 when the gates opened.

It was almost a replay of the day before — minus the phone call from Marie — as we were hopping from the start. I had just a moment to greet Arlene, Meredith and Jan at No. 16. They were accompanied by Bethany, Callie and Erin Aguilar, but Morgan would be a late arrival.

Things were rolling steadily along about 2:30 when Mr. Alvarez told me to clock out, clean up and put on a fresh shirt. My presence had been requested at the 19th Hole for an important event. It took me about 15 minutes to do all that. I walked into the place to see even more pandemonium than I had in our kitchen this morning.

Grandpa had aced No. 14 and shot his age with a 68. I could only imagine how much he’d taken off his playing partners. He was in the process of buying a round for the house. I enjoyed another Arnold Palmer.

My grandfather showed he was one of the big dogs when it came time to pay his tab. He pulled out a money clip holding a wad of bills as big as my fist, peeled off 10 Franklins and told Tony to keep it. As near as I could tell, the tip was something north of $200.

The reason for my being there became apparent when Mr. Horton, the head pro, showed up with the newspaper guy. They were going to get a shot of the three generations who’d aced the same hole. I now understood why Mr. Alvarez insisted I wear one of the club polos normally reserved for work.

Unlike mine and Dad’s holes-in-one from the Memorial Day scramble, there was no video of Grandpa’s achievement. I heard five different versions of the story from each member of the group, but the gist was he’d dropped it in on the fly.

“Just like shooting a free throw,” Grandpa said, pantomiming shooting a basketball.

After all the hullabaloo died down, I was told to follow the golfers to a private meeting room not far from the main dining room. Mr. Patterson was going to finish his sales pitch — it seems they’d gotten sidetracked during their round — and we were to be joined by Arlene, Jan and Meredith in addition to all the ladies from last night’s dinner.

As Dad said, it was time to see who had brass ones.

Assured of secrecy, Mr. Patterson went into a little more detail regarding the investment pool and his projections for the stock after the company made its announcement. Grandpa asked a few questions, then got ballpark figures on what the others were putting up.

The total came to about $620 million, most of which came from The Patterson Group and Meredith Metzger. Dad had the next biggest chunk, while Arlene, Jan, Mr. Richards and Dr. Ensberry had each put up roughly equal amounts. Mr. Patterson surprised me when he said Marie Benson was in for $2 million. With Mom in the room, I felt fortunate that he didn’t mention my contribution, which, not surprisingly, was the smallest.

Grandpa pondered a little more, asked a couple more questions, then looked at Grandma.

“Whaddaya think, hon?” he asked.

“Go for it,” she said. “I’ve been tracking this company. It’s ready to explode.”

I never knew my grandmother was that much into this kind of stuff.

“What say we make this thing a cool billion,” Grandpa said to Mr. Patterson. “Give me the exact amount when you can. I can have it wired over first thing Monday morning.”

I gulped. Audibly. My grandfather had just committed something in the neighborhood of $380 million. His payout could easily exceed $1 billion. That’s Billion. With a B.

I was reminded of one of Grandpa’s jokes about dealing with the federal government — “A billion here, a billion there and pretty soon you’re talking about real money.”

A bottle of Jack Daniel’s was produced and the adults went about toasting the endeavor. Grandma and Meredith Metzger fell into a conversation that seemed to be equal parts stock portfolios and grandchildren. The other women compared notes on getting ready for Kacie’s party.

Arlene and Jan hung back long enough to give me a quick kiss without Mom or Grandma seeing. They didn’t notice Dad watching us from the far side of the room.

“All this talk about big money makes me horny,” Arlene whispered before she pulled away. “Maybe you can help me with that.”

Dad waited until all the women were out the door before confronting me.

“You look awfully chummy with those two,” he said as he sloshed an ice cube around his glass. “Something tells me you’re not just swapping recipes.”

The blush was enough to give me away. The goofy grin just sealed it.

“Goddamn!” Dad said a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other men. “My son is layin’ the pipe to Arlene Jenson and Jan Metzger?”

“Oh, get over it, Dougie,” Grandpa ordered. “That’s just a drop in the bucket compared to some of the shit you got up to at his age. Although, he does seem to have the edge in quality.”

Dad turned as red as I had and there were suddenly some very curious golf partners in the room. I was surprised that Dr. Ensberry beat Mr. Richards to the punch. This was usually the kind of thing the lawyer pounced on.

“I have got to hear this,” the dentist said, pulling up a chair.

“Your father,” Grandpa said, looking at me, “treated virginity in Buchanan County like Jonas Salk treated polio — he tried to totally eradicate it with an injection of his own creation. It was bad enough he went through every girl in his high school except your Aunt Patty — I think, they’ve never admitted to doing anything — but also almost every unmarried female teacher under the age of 30 in the entire school district, K through 12.”

Dad just groaned and buried his face in his hands as he took a seat. Mr. Patterson brought the bottle of Jack to the table. Mr. Richards brought a bucket of ice. They were settling in for the long haul.

“Hell, I thought I was going to have to have him snipped,” Grandpa said. “Might have if I’d had another son to carry on the family name. As it was, I had to get elected to the school board to keep him from getting expelled.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dad started, only to be cut off by his father.

“The hell it wasn’t,” Grandpa said. “Three female teachers resigned for ‘personal reasons’ in the same semester and left town. I’ve always been afraid to ask just how many grandchildren I really have.”

Dad just hung his head.

“Sounds like we’ve got a chip off the old block in your grandson,” Mr. Patterson smirked before taking a sip of his whiskey. “At least he hasn’t decimated the local faculty. Yet. But he seems just as dedicated to ridding the world of virgins, whether he’ll admit it or not.”

It was my turn to groan and bury my face in my hands.

“I never pursued any of them,” I said. “Every girl or woman I’ve been with has made the first move.”

“But you didn’t exactly try to dodge ‘em, didja?” Mr. Richards said with a big shit-eatin’ grin.

“Just how many are we talking about?” Grandpa asked.

I had to be very careful here. The daughters of three of these men had given their virginity to me, but Dad still wasn’t aware he was part of that group.