After breakfast, Reid showered, then joined everyone on the deck. He said, “Who wants to take a ride to Westchester Country Club? I want to study the course. Beforehand, we can walk around the sculpture gardens at Pepsi, then hit Walter’s for lunch. Afterward, anyone who wants to walk the back nine can, and anyone who doesn’t can come back here.” “That’s some itinerary. I’m in,” Betsy said. They all agreed. Reid called Shane and explained the agenda. She said she’d love to join them. “Great, I’ll send a car for you. You can meet us at the sculpture garden.
Call my cell when you get to the parking lot. Okay?” Shane agreed. When the call was over, he hung up then quickly called Buck and asked if he’d send his driver to run Shane up to meet him. Buck said, “No problem. Tell her to be ready in 15 minutes. By the way, Jay and I will take care of the press conference today; I’ll let you know how it goes. Jay has some updates on the investigation. I think he cleared Jennifer. Eli and Mike Gatto are still MIA. It seems Eli has gotten into some legal trouble since you fired him. Jay’s concerned. Make sure you have security wherever you go.”
“I’m no fool, Buck. I’m not going anywhere without them. Hey, I have to go, everybody’s waiting for me. Talk to you later.” He hung up.
“Okay,” Reid barked loudly. “Whoever wants to come, let’s get this show on the road. We need to be back early enough to get ready for Caramoor.”
Once again, they were on the road. They drove to the sculpture gar dens and started walking the gravel path. Reid was trying not to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to call Shane. He gave in and dialed. She answered on the first ring. “Where are you?” he asked. “Turn around,” she said. He turned and there she was, wearing shorts and a halter top, looking so good his heart skipped a beat. He ran, picked her up and hugged her. After a long kiss he said, “I missed you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” “Me either,” she admitted. He smiled and said, “Come on, let’s catch up with everyone.” They walked up to the others, hand in hand. Betsy turned around as they were getting close. “Uh-oh Mom, this looks serious.” “I know. Good for him, he deserves it, and I think I like her. She seems classier than some of the other girls he’s dated. Do you think she broke up with that other guy yet?” “I hope so. Should I ask her later?” “No, let’s not meddle. They’ll work it out.” Betsy nodded. They waited for Reid and Shane to catch up. Everyone said hi and they continued their stroll. “This place is beautiful,” Shane said. “I can’t believe I never knew it existed.” “It’s one of Westchester’s hidden treasures,” Joan said. They walked through the gardens, studying and appreciating the sculptures. They stopped pond side at a life-size bronze of a polar bear. Reid lifted Shane and she climbed on the bear’s back, then he jumped up as well. “Hold on,” Betsy said as she grabbed her camera and took a few shots.
A guard from the gardens walked over and nicely asked them to get off the bear. They apologized, got off and moved on. They all took turns posing for pictures, sitting among some lifelike sculptures of people on a bench. Arriving back at the vehicles, they boarded for the next leg of the journey.
“Okay, time for Walter’s,” Reid announced, “home of the world’s best hotdogs.” They drove to a funky, old-fashioned road side stand.
“Holy cow, this place must be good, the line’s a mile long,” Joel exaggerated.
“Joel, Shane and I will go wait on line,” Reid said. “You all go in the back and reserve some picnic tables.”
When they reached the front of the line, Reid ordered 50 hotdogs and enough fries and drinks for the group. The girl that took the order repeated it, causing everyone behind the counter to shift gears. Those in line behind them groaned. Reid appeased everyone in line by signing autographs until his order was ready. As he paid for his order he handed the cashier an additional $300 and said, “This should cover everyone’s order in line, and leave enough to share as a tip for everyone behind the counter.” Applause broke out on both sides of the counter as Reid, Shane and Joel carried their order away.
“That was nice,” Shane said as they walked. “Maybe if the press saw you doing things like that they’d get off your back.” “Maybe they would.” They placed the food on the picnic tables. “What was all the commotion about?” Joan asked. “Nothing,” Reid said. “It was your son being a nice guy to his fans,” Shane said. “Really?” Betsy said in disbelief. Reid shrugged. They passed around the food and as everyone gobbled it up the only noise to be heard was, “Mmm, these dogs are great!” After his last bite, Reid said, “The last stop is the back nine. Anyone not up to it?” No one said anything. “Mom, are you sure it’s not too much for you?”
“Hey, I’ve come this far on your crusade, I’m not quitting now. Let’s go.” He smiled and said, “Then let’s roll.” They pulled up to the front doors at Westchester Country Club. “Let me go in and speak with the manager first,” Reid said. I’ll be out in a minute. Shane, will you come with me?”
They walked into the lobby, and all heads turned to look at them. Here, everyone knew who Reid was. The clubhouse was enormous. Everything about it was distinguished, especially its members. It exuded old world charm and sophistication. The lobby had multiple sitting areas. The furniture consisted of immense dark leather couches and elegantly upholstered armchairs. The stone fireplace at the head of the room was big enough to park a golf cart in. Gigantic vases of fresh flowers brightened the room. No one ran up for Reid’s autograph. Not here. An older couple walked by. The gentleman politely tipped his cap, gave a small nod and said, “Welcome, Mr. Clark.” Reid nodded and respectfully said, “Thank you, sir.” Word spread that he had arrived and Steve, the club manager, came out to greet him. Steve was clean-cut, around 40 years old, and wore a beige suit with a dark green tie. Reid introduced him to Shane, then explained his intentions of walking the back nine with a few friends. Steve said, “Let me call Jimmy, our starter, to see what we look like on the west course.”
They followed Steve to his large office. Motioning for them to sit in the black leather chairs in front of his desk, he dialed the starter and reiterated Reid’s desire to walk the back nine. After listening, he hung up. “There are four groups on the west course now. Three are on the back nine, but you can walk the front. Jimmy will send anyone who wants to tee off over to the East Course for the next two hours.”
“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be around quite a bit over the next week and a half. In fact, I’d like to walk the back nine tomorrow. How about having lunch with me afterwards?”
“Excellent, you name the time. By the way, here.” He handed Reid a cigar from his humidor. “I know you enjoy them.”
“Wow, thank you,” Reid said as he ran the cigar lengthwise under his nose, inhaling the spicy aroma. “Excellent, Buck will be so jealous,” he said in Shane’s direction. “Here, take another for him.” Steve reopened the humidor. “Thanks, he’ll appreciate it. I’ll let you know about lunch as soon as I can. I need to check timing on a press conference first.” Reid and Shane walked out to the front of the building, where everyone was waiting. “Follow me,” he said. He found Jimmy standing proudly beside the starter’s shack, wearing a golf shirt and cap with WCC logos. “Hi, Jimmy, it’s good to see you. I appreciate your help,” Reid shook his hand and tried to hand him 50 bucks.
“No thanks, Mr. Clark,” Jimmy said, “wouldn’t take it even if I was allowed. It’s my pleasure to help.” He then added, “I wouldn’t mind a couple of autographs for my kids, though. When you have the time, that is.” “Absolutely Jimmy, you got it. I’ll obviously be around for a while.” “Enjoy your walk.”