Profession

Club

The next time I went over to Grandpa Damian's, I found him poring over pamphlets from country clubs. He dropped the one he was perusing and got to his feet when Alfred escorted me in. A big hug, then I was seated and Alfred went off for coffee for me and tea for himself and Grandpa. "What's all this?" I asked.

"I need to do more physical activity," Grandpa explained, scowling a bit.

"His doctor said that Master Damian was in danger of becoming sandstone" Alfred put in demurely. It took me a minute, then I started laughing. Sedimentary, indeed. Grandpa grumped a bit at the geology joke.

"Miles suggested checking out a country club. See what they had to offer. Iris got me brochures from every single one in the area." He made a face. "I don't have patience for golf, it seems stupid to whack at a ball until it goes into a cup." Ooh, Grandpa was surly. "And no offense, Buttercup, but I don't think rowing's for me." He had access to pools, both out at the manor and mine, so that wasn't a draw either. We sorted through the pamphlets, discarding most of them as too old-fogy and traditional, all revolving around golf apparently, reserving a few for further investigation.

"I don't belong to a club either, but this one looks nice," I said slowly, opening a big sheet that had been folded into sixths. Grandpa looked up warily. "It doesn't waste space on its own golf course, but it has grass and clay tennis courts. I played in high school and liked it a lot."

"I remember," Grandpa said. "You were getting pretty good when you graduated and focused on rowing." I smiled at him.

"I liked going out and trying to wipe up my opponents," I reminisced. Alfred looked a little startled; I don't have a rep in the family as being blood-thirsty.  Grandpa looked a little more interested.

"I thought you primarily enjoyed the team aspect," he said.

"That was part of it, sure," I nodded. "But I loved trying to crush the people across the net. I had to play doubles because I wasn't good enough for singles. And then you have to shake hands over the net, and if you're not at a high school tournament, you tend to have snacks afterward and gloat a bit. I did really like that." Grandpa hummed a bit.

"What else do you like there?" he asked, referring to the brochure.

"It's got beautiful gardens in which they have hammocks where you can be shaded by an umbrella or not, enjoy nature. A rotating art gallery, a library. A bunch of boulders, rearranged periodically, where you can climb all over them, collaborative space and a tech-free zone, a library, space for local musicians or members to play. They've got an archery range--I should practice, Aunt Antiope was a little disappointed that my skills were slipping--and an outdoor track. A fencing piste. A spa with a sauna. A swimming pool with a diving well. Pros for the tennis courts, pool, fencing, archery and an instructor for bouldering. A nurse, in case somebody gets hurt. They have a formal dining room, a bistro for a more casual atmosphere, a coffeeshop modeled on a Viennese Belle Epoch establishment--ooh, French and Viennese pastries, too--to go orders, a bar, and a pantry, kind of a high-end grocery store. That's neat, it's local produce in season, luxury meats, cheeses and charcuterie,  milk, yogurt, ice cream from an artisan dairy, herbs, club-made sauces, soups, and breads. They've got hiking and biking trails, too, on a couple hundred acres. Interesting, they have some rooms you can rent, like a hotel, for a night up to a month. A weekly arts salon, where an author or artist is invited to share their work and lead a discussion.  Healthy living and wellness resources and classes, a monthly community service project. Space you can reserve for a party-catered by the club--or for a group of members to try something new. Really nice-looking locker rooms, with massages by appointment." Grandpa took the brochure.