The Fugitive Grandma Lives

Chapter 16 - The King of Hearts

Stella knew she was in a pickle. You didn't have to be a Philadelphia lawyer to figure that one out. She'd made a complete fool of herself at the Palm Valley Country Club and the whole town must be buzzing with gossip about her bizarre and reckless behavior.

Her card friends had all left voice messages on her prepaid cell phone, expressing their concern and befuddlement. After she'd rehearsed her explanation, she returned their calls, staring with Helen Moreno.

"What on earth happened to you, Lucy?" Helen asked.

"I think it's the new medication they put me on."

"Medication?"

"The doc said I have low magnesium and gave me some anti-anxiety pills."

"I knew it must be something like that."

"You know how it is with some of those medications. It's like they turn you into a different person."

"That's what we were all thinking. This isn't the Lucy Chase we know."

"I am so ashamed, Helen." Stella faked a whimper.

"You shouldn't be, Lucy. We're here for you."

She wondered about that. Her friends had offered to organize a special lunch at the country club the following week as a show of solidarity. Then, one by one, they all cooked up excuses and cancelled out. Her friend Linda was the very last one to bail. Stella didn't get the message until she'd already arrived at the club for lunch. The clerk at the lobby mentioned that Linda had a last minute appointment with her endocrinologist and sent her apologies. Stella sat alone at an empty table sipping an Arnold Palmer, staring out at the sunny fairway where she'd caused a such a scene a week earlier. She was aware of the staff and fellow diners staring at her. She was furious at herself for letting her fair-weather friends lure her back to this place only to leave her high-and-dry, burning with humiliation.

Just when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, a debonair, elderly man in a polo shirt and cotton slacks strolled into the dining room, received warmly by guests and staff as he passed from table to table. He had a full head of white hair and wide smile. The man was at least as old as Stella but he had a vigorous quality, as if he'd never lost hope or excitement from his youth even as he passed through life's trials and tribulations. He introduced himself as Al Winters, the owner of the country club.

She had heard stories about Mr. Winters, a rich widower who founded the first golf resort of its kind in Palm Valley. In addition, to his reputation as an impeccable, self-made entrepreneur and pillar of the community, he was also known as a kind and loving soul, a man who had taken care of his wife devotedly for years before she finally passed away due to conditions following her stroke. Since his wife's death ten years ago, he had been viewed a prime catch among ladies in the over-Seventies crowd. Despite his charm and status, Winters was known to keep to himself though that didn't prevent the club's female guests from vying for his attention.

"My name is Lucy Chase," Stella said. "I just moved out here from Ohio." She took a deep gulp, swallowing her shame since it was obviously from his expression that he already knew her by reputation.

"Welcome to California. The sun keeps us young out here," he said with a mirthful grin, offering to give her a tour of the club. The other ladies watched in a combination of suspicion and a touch of envy as he took Stella's hand and led her away to inspect the grounds.

He took over forty minutes from his busy schedule to personally drive her around the club property in his cart, showing her spectacular views of the pools, gardens, emerald-green golf courses and sparkling lakes. Al's employees waved with warm smiles as they passed. She noticed the injured man who she had transported to the hospital was conspicuously absent and all signs of the bloody mishap on the fairway had been clean away.

At the end of the tour, Al stopped the cart in front of his office on the north face of the club house. He checked carefully to make sure they were alone.

"Ms. Chase there's something I want to discuss with you privately."

"Really?" she asked suspiciously as he ushered her into his office and shut the door.

"Don't worry," he said with a laugh. "I don't bite."

One of his staff members brought them two Arnold Palmers with plenty of ice.

"I heard about what happened yesterday," he said when they were alone again. "Out on the fairway."

"I am sorry Mr. Winters. I didn't mean to make a scene. I had a bad reaction to some pills. I wasn't myself."

"Pills?"

"That's right. The doctor says I have a magnesium deficiency."

"Magnesium?"

"My mental state was out of whack."

"Your mental state?" he repeated, frowning. "It was a bad reaction to pills that led you to rescue Gus on the fairway? Is that really true?"

"You don't believe me?" she asked nervously.

"No. Mrs. Chase I am not sure I do."

Stella set her drink down before she spilled it. How could he see through her bluff so easily?

"It's really a shame," he added wistfully.

"What's a shame?"

"This day and age we live in. A woman like you has the courage and conscience to help a suffering stranger. And she's not allowed to admit it. That's what this is about isn't it? You saved that man because he was injured and might've died. No one else at the scene was willing to lift a finger. My own employees were afraid they'd get sued or fired. The other club guests certainly weren't going to stick their neck out. You were the only one who did the Christian thing, Lucy. But in our world today it isn't socially acceptable to be a Good Samaritan, is it? People figure there must be something wrong with you."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought I was out of my mind as well."

Al gazed into her eyes, his voice aching with nostalgia. "When I was a kid it was different out here in the desert. My dad was a struggling date farmer working alongside the Indians and the braceros. We all helped each other out. We were poor in terms of money but we were rich in compassion. Now I look at what's become of Palm Valley with its irrigated lawns and fancy art galleries. We have all the money and luxury in the world but where is the kindness? And what's a community without kindness?"

"That's a good question, Mr. Winters," Stella said, with a lump in her throat.

"Please, call me Al. I can't say it in public, because I have to maintain a respectable image for my business, but I am really grateful for what you did. You restored my faith. Promise you'll let me show you a token of my appreciation."

"Sure thing, Al."

"All right then."