Michael Malone - Weebly

dropped in on him.
There he was, surrounded by zebras, and tourists
riding up and down in golf carts snapping pictures of his
dad's arboretum. His dad was Marquis of
Thingamabob, I forget. Teddie came to the States back
in the twenties and damned if I didn't catch him trying to
get Mary to run off with him. There she'd be now,
shoveling up giraffe dung into a pushcart. At least I
don't have to worry that twenty tourists in bermuda
shorts are going to open my bathroom door while I'm
sitting in the tub." He reached for his Bloody Mary.
"Your shot."
Ruth Deeds was looking at the empty leather chairs,
the unread magazines, the vacant lush grass outside the
window. "Why don't you open this club up? Look at all
the nice things you've got just going to waste. There're a
lot of people up at the lake all summer that would love
to use the golf course and the bar and restaurant. You
could take their money and set up facilities for local kids
who can't afford things like tennis lessons or swimming.
I bet you'd get a crowd in here."
"Expect we would." The old man smiled as he