Diane was the wife of a big shot lawyer who worked in downtown Minneapolis She carried a 9 handicap at a very prestigious country club and had a golf wardrobe to match her handicap. Her model’s beauty, with a big head of blond hair and a cheerleader’s body, was exceeded only by the sparkle from the five carrot diamond she wore on her left hand.
Diane met Bruce when her picked up her new BMW Roadster that her husband gave her for her 40th birthday. Bruce was the top salesman at the local BMW dealership and loved to play and talk golf. He was a low handicapper at his upscale public course and played in the MGA tournaments. Bruce was a clothes horse and he fancied himself as a ladies man.
The first time Diane brought her convertible in for service they had coffee. Next time they had lunch. When Bruce learned that this beautiful woman was an excellent golfer, he wanted to play, golf and maybe more with her. Time was no problem for Diane, with her teenaged kids in school and camps and her husband at work, she had all day to spend as she pleased. Bruce invited Diane to make the quick drive up north and play our golf course where he was a regular tournament player and well known by our staff. She agreed and the date was set.
“We can take my car. You can drive,” she said.
“I brought something to make the trip more enjoyable.” He replied as he pulled the cork from a bottle of good Chardonnay.
“Next time get a later tee time, we could stop along the way.” She said with a wink.
“I know the owner he will change our tee time.” He said as he fumbled the cell phone out of his pocket. Bruce was grinning like a schoolboy anticipation his first kiss.
The rendezvous and golf became a ritual – every other Wednesday.
On a Wednesday in early July, Diane raced into the pro shop with a worried look on her face. “Shit!” she said. “I lost my ring. I have got to use a cart to find it. The ring must have fallen out of my pocket.” Thirty minutes later Diane returned with a relaxed smile of relief on her face.
“You found it? How?” I said.
“We just retraced every shot I hit until we got to #13. During our round I really had to pee so after my tee shot on #13 I slipped into the woods. As I squatted down, I noticed a pair of beautiful orioles taking turns feeding their babies in a nest that looked like a pocket on a pool table. I sort of got lost watching those birds,” she snorted with a beautiful smile. “It took me a little while to find that nest again. But, when I found the nest, I squatted in the exact spot, where I could see the nest, and sure enough there this beauty was.” She babbled as she held out her hand and admired this token of her husbands ever-lasting love.
That was the beginning of the end for Diane and Bernie but the orioles, which now have babies of their own, will never know how beautiful their nest appeared to a wayward housewife on that Wednesday in July.