Santa Fe Edge

11

Tip Hanks stood on the eighteenth green and sized up his putt. Not good. He had been at the top of his game for four days, and now he had a one-stroke lead on the last hole. Trouble was, he had a thirty-five-foot putt that was going to go over a little rise in the green, then break on the downhill slope to the hole, while his opponent had a six-foot straight-in putt to tie the match and force a play-off. Tip did not want a play-off. He conferred with Mike, his caddie.

“Play it like the hole is at the top of the rise,” Mike advised, “and a foot past. Aim for a line a foot right of the hole. It’s going to break left and be very fast downhill.”

Tip took another look from ten feet behind the ball and agreed. He took a couple of practice swings, then stepped forward and struck the ball smoothly. It rolled up the rise, slowed nearly to a halt at the top, then curved gracefully down the slope and into the cup. The crowd went nuts.

Tip walked to the edge of the green and leaned on his putter. His opponent had to sink this putt to keep sole possession of second place. He sank it, and it was over. Tip had won it.

He hugged Mike, then shook hands with his opponent and his opponent’s caddie. The crowd swarmed around him as he walked to the tent where he would double-check his scorecard and sign it. That done, he walked to the cleared area in front of the clubhouse and was interviewed briefly for television, where he accepted condolences for Connie, then appeared appropriately modest about his win.

All that remained then was to accept the trophy and hit the showers, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow morning there would be a wire transfer to his bank account of one million, one hundred thousand dollars. He was now officially richer than he had ever been, and he had improved his position to fifth in the race for the FedEx Cup.

He was too tired to fly but not too tired to celebrate, so he stayed another night at the Four Seasons and celebrated with the few stragglers who had not immediately flown home. When he returned to his room at bedtime, he found a congratulatory e-mail from Dolly waiting for him. They had exchanged e-mails every day, always with a business reason but always pleasantly. She seemed to be on top of things at home.

The following morning he took off from Hobby Field and flew northwest to Santa Fe. He arrived at the house at noon and saw Dolly’s little BMW convertible parked out front. “Anybody home?” he called as he entered the house. He dropped his bag by the door for his housekeeper to unpack and walked into his study.

Dolly came out of her office smiling. “Congratulations,” she said, walking forward and offering her hand. When he shook it, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. He seemed surprised. “The transfer is in your savings account,” she said, “and I’ve already sent the check for the taxes to your accountant.”

“Thanks, Dolly,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve done with your office.” She led him there, and he looked around for a moment. “Very nice,” he said, but he was more impressed than that. If she handled his affairs as neatly as she did her office, everything would be fine.

“Have you had lunch?” she asked.

“No. Why don’t you join me?”

“I’ll tell Carmen,” she said, going off to find the housekeeper.

His study was a lot neater than when he had left, and he liked that, too.

BARBARA SLEPT LATE, and when she was dressing she heard a sound she hadn’t heard for quite some time: a cell phone ringing. Surprised, she dug it out of her purse. It had to be Jimmy. He was the only person who had the number.

“Hey,” she said.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’d rather not say,” she replied. “Where are you?”

“In Santa Fe.”

She was surprised. “Why?”

“I’m producing a film here that’s starting production right away.”

“Good,” she said. “You’ll enjoy the town.”

“Something else,” he said. “It’s starring the wife of your nemesis.”

“What?”

“Relax. It was a good deal for me. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Have you seen Ed?”

“Last night. They had me, the writer/director and the star for dinner.”

“Isn’t Susannah starring?”

“No. She could have, but she took a supporting role. Smart move, too.”

“Listen, I’ve got to run,” she said. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

“Okay. Take care.”

She hung up and swore. This was a very big monkey wrench in her works. She had been planning to kill them both, but she couldn’t do that to Jimmy; he’d lose a lot of money. She paced around the room. What would she do now? She could stay on briefly with Charlene and Hugh, but only briefly. They’d be sick of her in a few days, and she couldn’t blame them.

She picked up the Santa Fe New Mexican, which had been left at her door, and sat down with the real estate pages, circling likely-sounding rentals. One sounded particularly nice, and she called the agent and made an appointment to see it.

She sat at the dressing table and inspected herself carefully. Her new hair color and the cosmetic surgery she had had before her incarceration might make it unlikely for people who had known her in Santa Fe to recognize her, but still, she had to be careful.

IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON she drove back to town and, following the directions the agent had given her, drove to the development called Las Campanas, which she knew about from her earlier stay in the town when she had been married to Eagle. The property was a guesthouse, nicely furnished and available at a very reasonable rent, in return for keeping an eye on the house. The couple would not return until next summer.

She signed the lease on the spot and gave the agent a check for a month’s rent and a security deposit, then she drove back to the Holroyds’ ranch, arriving in time for dinner.

She didn’t tell them about her rental. It was best that no one knew where she was. “I’ve got to go back to the West Coast on business,” she said to them.

They expressed suitable regret, and she showed her gratitude for inviting her by making them both very happy in bed that night.

The following morning she packed, then drove back to Las Campanas.