Evelyn’s a trust-fund baby who desires true love and not a gold digger. She takes a job as a bartender at a private golf course to sample life on the other side of the tracks and meets Harry. She knows he’s a conman and only interested in getting her to part with her money.
Can Evelyn get a cheetah to change his spots?
Evelyn wandered into the study, slammed the door shut, and started picking up random items. She picked up a bust, blew off a dust cloud, and muttered, “What does the house-cleaner do? She wanders around twice a week with a duster,” then louder, “Dad, I’m bored.”
Mr. Jackelyn stopped reading, looked up at his nineteen-year-old daughter, and sighed. “What’s the problem this time?”
“It’s Toby. He’s only interested in money. My money. They all are. I want to meet a real man, not these puffed up spoiled rich kids or hangers-on. They smile and don’t mean it. I hate them all.” Evelyn pouted and shook her long curly hair.
He smiled. You have more than your fair share of suitors—a trust-fund-baby who doesn’t have to work is a definite catch. You’ve matured—five-feet-five inches tall, one hundred and ten pounds, long brunette hair, brown eyes, and a smile that melts the coldest heart. “If you stay within this gated community, you’ll never meet Mr. Right. I should have sent you to the local public high school. You’d have interacted with a mixed group of teenagers and know how the majority live.”
“Why don’t you give me a job at your golf course?”
“Would you go incognito?”
“Why?”
“If the workers knew you were the boss’s daughter, they’d treat you differently.”
Evelyn rested her head against the wall. “I suppose that’s true. Let me think about it.”
“Don’t wait too long. September will be here in a jiffy, then you’re off to university.”
* * * *
September came and went, not once, but three times. Evelyn graduated from Loyola with an arts degree. The intervening three years had been full of drama, including an engagement which broke up days before the actual wedding day. Her fiancé had wandering eyes. Ironically, at her hen party, a girlfriend told Evelyn who he’d slept with during the summer, and that was that.
“Dad, I want a year off.”
Mr. Jackelyn laughed. “What now? You’ve put Mom and me through an emotional wringer. One minute, Toby’s only interested in your money. Next, you’re engaged, then it’s all off. You never told us why?”
“He cheated on me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. A year off? I thought you wanted to study for your master’s in journalism.”
“I do, but I’m not ready. The fiasco with Toby is too raw. I want to do what normal people do. Is that offer to work at your golf club still open?”
“Yes. You want to work in the restaurant and serve tables?”
“Not the restaurant. I fancy the bar. I’ll start as a hostess and work up to tending the bar.”
“You’re on your own, no favors. The manager will know you’re my daughter, but no one else will. You good with that?”
“Perfect.” Evelyn stood on tiptoe and kissed her dad’s cheek.
“Remember, the bar’s top-of-the-line and exclusive. It is open to the public, but the majority of customers are members and their guests. Dress appropriately. No miniskirts or low-cut blouses. It’s not a pick-up joint.”
“Isn’t that why it’s called the nineteenth hole?”
“Maybe, but they don’t expect a birdie and definitely not a hole-in-one.”
Evelyn laughed.
What shall I wear? Be modest—white slacks, pumps, and a conservative navy-blue blouse. Evelyn waited outside of Mr. Grind’s office. Can’t believe Dad’s making me interview. She heard a deep male voice shout, “Come in,” and nervously entered. I was expecting mahogany, thick rugs, and a painting of Dad accepting the claret jug on the wall. It’s plain and functional.
“Take a seat. I know you’re the boss’s daughter, but you’ll get no favors here. Before you complain to your father, he’s given me strict guidelines.” He glanced up from the computer screen. “I like your dress sense. Be modest. This isn’t a dive. Mr. Jackelyn wants you to understand this business from the bottom up. To this end, you’ll start at eight in the morning and work a half-day in a department I specify. Your afternoon shift will be in the bar. Gordon is expecting you at one. You start on Monday, and you’re working the starter’s office for the first few weeks.”
“What will I be doing? Any training?”
“First question, answer the phone, make reservations, keep the inventory fully stocked, and look after the cash register. Second question, training is called on-the-job. You’re smart, you’ll figure it out. Remember, if you screw up, it’s family money you’re throwing away. That’s it. Dave’s expecting you Monday at eight.”
Mr. Grind turned away and started tapping away on the computer keyboard.
I suppose my interview’s over. Guess I’m hired. Evelyn quietly turned, headed out, and went straight to the starter’s shack. I’m impressed. This is upscale. There’s even a booth to check out your swing, complete with video equipment and playback. Thank God, it’s got air-conditioning.
A male voice asked, “Can I help you?”
