Trying to teach a man wearing a monocle how to peer through a land surveyor’s telescope was a challenge, but Jack needed Kyle Tucker to understand where the amphitheater would be situated. Once the Roost and surrounding trees were removed, the amphitheater would have spectacular views of both the golf course and Saint Helga’s Spring.
“Looking good,” Kyle said as he stepped away from the tripod, allowing reporter Micky Hayes to take his place. Micky was a great guy who covered local stories for the Williamsburg television news station, and had been giving favorable coverage of ongoing developments at the golf course. In a college town where the students were a built-in army to raise the alarm overthe environmental issues associated with golf, Jack was grateful for Micky’s practical understanding of the jobs and diversified streams of revenue the golf course would bring to the local economy. Positive news coverage was free publicity for the amphitheater, and Jack needed every bit of it.
“Our marketing consultant believes the amphitheater can attract events most weekends of the year,” Jack said. “I see it hosting up-and-coming bands or maybe classical music performances from the college.”
Kyle held his hands out as though framing a picture. “Shakespeare under the stars! Maybe some musical theater or even stand-up comedians. Anything to get folks outdoors and away from their glowing screens at home.”
Micky scrutinized the lay of the land. “What sort of concession stand are you planning?”
Kyle jumped in before Jack could answer. “Wine and cheese. Maybe some cocktails, but we want high-end stuff. This won’t be a greasy burger joint.”
Kyle misunderstood the reporter’s question, and Jack intervened. “A formal concession stand will be built later. It will be air-conditioned and have indoor seating, plus an outdoor patio overlooking the amphitheater. Everything will meet or surpass local building codes. The restroom facilities will support an audience of up to five thousand people. The parking lot will have spaces for automobiles and charging stations, plus an alley for food trucks or vendor displays. We’re hoping art festivals will find the space appealing.”
Most of all, Jack hoped the PGA would find the space appealing. Television rights to broadcast a PGA tournament could earn more in one weekend than most golf courses could earn in six months.
“We’ve got to get rid of the Roost, though,” Kyle said, and Jack nearly choked. Today’s mission was to drum up free publicity,not shine a spotlight on the most controversial aspect of the plan.
“The Roost isn’t part of this discussion,” Jack rushed to add. “We’re not sure exactly what we’re going to do with it.”
“I’ll bet that old building holds a lot of stories,” Micky said, his voice unexpectedly wistful. “I heard it was a hospital during the Civil War, and that before that it was a tavern that turned out some of the best whiskey anywhere in America.”
“Now it’s just an eyesore,” Kyle said. “It’s blocking the view of Saint Helga’s Spring and serves no purpose other than—”
Jack cut Kyle off before he could continue his rant. “Micky, can I give you a tour of the course? We’ve seeded the greens and started installing the shrubs and trees.” There wasn’t much to see yet, but Jack needed to get the reporter away from Kyle’s babbling about demolishing the Roost. Kyle was an idiot. He’d come to Jack for more money last week, even though the ink was barely dry on the latest check Jack had written for someone to draft architectural plans for the amphitheater.
Micky started heading toward the course and Jack lifted a hand. “It’s been good seeing you again, Kyle. Give Daisy my best.”
Kyle Tucker might be an idiot, but he heard the dismissal in Jack’s tone and gave a stiff smile, sunlight glinting on the gold rim of his monocle. People born with a silver spoon in their mouth rubbed him the wrong way. Notallrich people, just the ones who carelessly blathered confidential business plans because their livelihood never depended on making payroll or accurate long-term projections for the viability of a golf course that consumed most of their life savings.
Once Kyle was out of earshot it was easier to relax.
“The fairways look great,” Micky said with a nod to the bright green seedlings of grass beginning to take root.
They ought to look great. Twelve thousand dollars of organic fertilizer spread over 160 acres took a bite out of Jack’s budget, but proper soil nutrition would pay off in the long run if the grass could establish a healthy root system throughout the course.
“Let me show you the 7th hole,” Jack said as he headed down the gentle slope. “It’s a par 3 but I left a group of old willow trees standing in the middle of the fairway. They’re pretty, but I can already hear the golfers howl in anguish at the fantastic obstacle they’re going to create.”
Micky laughed as they reached the bottom of the slope, the graceful willow trees arranged as if God himself had planted them here.
Asquelchsounded as he planted a foot, then another.
That was odd. The sprinklers hadn’t gone off last night, nor had it rained. He hunkered down, feeling the ground sink a little beneath his weight.
Everything was wet.
“Is it supposed to be this soggy?” Micky asked.
No, and something is wrong. Jack blocked any hint of concern from his face as he stood. Only a fool would let a reporter see a sign of trouble.
“Our guys are still calibrating the irrigation system,” he said. “Maybe we should put this tour off. The landscaping will look better in a month and I’ll give you a personal tour.”
“Sounds great,” Micky said.
Jack tried not to panic as he walked across the fairway, the gentle pull of spongy soil clinging to his shoes with each step. The sloshing noise from each footfall ratcheted his nerves tighter. Several acres were water-logged, which meant the irrigation system was going completely haywire.
He paused to survey the landscape. The slope of the land meant the water was draining toward Saint Helga’s Spring,where it was washing thousands of dollars of fertilizer into the preserved wetland.
He cursed under his breath. If the environmentalists got wind of this, they’d want his head on a platter. Everything he used was organic, yet even organic fertilizer could trigger algae blooms that would deplete oxygen in the water. It would turn the water green, cloudy, and suffocate the fish. Turtles, frogs, and insects would all take a hit.
