Free Once and Again by Elisabeth Barrett

borrowed heavily to finance the Portofino construction, and the loan covenants required Jake to fund any cost overruns out of his own pocket. And at the moment, he had no available reserves, as he had earmarked the rest of his available capital to invest in Briarwood. He’d bought the place outright for five million, intending to spend at least ten million on renovations. He hadn’t thought he’d be stretched thin, and at the time, the risk seemed minimal, especially since his other investments were doing well. But Portofino had knocked him for a loop.
    He knew full well that his reserve money had to go toward Briarwood’s refurbishment, not to doubling down on construction costs for Portofino because in this economy, banks were not interested in loans to help renovate country clubs.
    Blinking, he strode purposefully toward the golf course. He needed to walk while he plotted how to get himself out of this jam.
Ah, hell,
he needed a place to really breathe, and not just because of the Portofino fiasco. Because of her. Because of everything being here brought back.
    He was good enough. He knew he was. But Carolyn didn’t seem to see it that way. And the Board didn’t, either. They’d put him through the wringer so far, getting the club’s attorney to attack everything from the legality of the sale to Jake’s right to make changes. It had been only three weeks since the deal closed, but already he’d felt as if he’d waged a small war.
    He was on the approach to the putting green when a familiar figure loomed in his line of sight—Vernon Chelmsford, chairman of the Board of Trustees and the man leading the charge against him.
And the day just keeps getting better and better.
    Vernon clearly noticed him, because he stopped putting, straightened, and waited. The hint of a smile curled on his craggy face. The man was spoiling for a fight, as usual. No surprise. Vernon was a former prosecutor turned state court judge, and it seemed like almost every conversation they had was designed to get Jake to confess to something.
    Jake had plenty of sins. Just none that he felt like spilling to Vern.
    “Vernon,” Jake said, noting the seventy-one-year-old looked in damned good shape. He was sporting full-on golfing attire, including a newsboy cap. He wore it non-ironically, the way only a man of his age and position could.
    Vernon’s gaze swept over him, his eyes mocking. “You’re not dressed for golfing,
son.
”
    Son, my ass.
The anger curdling deep inside him was best ignored. It was hard, though. It came so easily. Especially here.
    Jake nodded at the golf course, which lay just beyond the golf shop about a hundred feet away. “Better get playing. The back nine are closed starting tomorrow.”
    “Ah yes, the renovation by the famous Walter Williams.” Vernon sniffed and flicked his thumb over his nose. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”
    “This course hasn’t seen a PGA tour event in well over a decade,” Jake said. “Williams’s work will all but ensure interest.”
    “And in the meantime, the course is unusable for the full season. No one’s happy about that.”
    “You’re thinking too short term,” Jake said, though he didn’t even know why. He’d restated this argument half a dozen times over the last few weeks, and every time he had to say it again, Vernon and the rest of the Board gave him the same excuses.
    “I’m thinking that some of our members may not live to see another season.”
    “You’re making my case for me, Vern. This club is literally dying.”
    “Look, son, I’m responsible for the well-being of the membership.”
    “And
I’m
responsible for the well-being of the club. I can’t put the needs of a handful of elderly members above the needs of Briarwood.”
    Vernon gave him the most patronizing look possible. “Not everything is about money.”
    Bullshit.
Everything
was
about money. He knew it. Vern knew it. The whole Board knew it.
    Jake shook his head. “Then you shouldn’t