"You were expecting to come in under par?" Andrew teased.
Barbara glanced at Bryn with another grimace. "My score was one hundred and twenty. But that's all Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
right. I wasn't exactly playing with Mike Winfeld, anyway. These guys all were in the nineties."
"We're musicians, not golfers!" Andrew defended himself.
"Where's Lee?" Perry asked.
"He's coming," Bryn murmured.
"One of us should get some coffee on," Mick advised.
Bryn laughed. "I'm going right now!"
Barbara followed her into the kitchen. "Guess what! I'm coming up to theBlack Hillswith you!"
"You are?" Bryn exclaimed with pleasure."But what about your show and your business?"
"I quit the show and I hired an assistant. I'm taking a gamble, Bryn. On this really being it."
Bryn hugged her friend. "I hope so, Barb! Wouldn't that bewonderful! "
Barbara hugged her back,then disentangled herself. "I've got to run and start getting things straightened out with the new assistant. I just wanted to tell you what was going on with Andrew. Wish me luck, Bryn.
As much luck as you've had with Lee!"
"I do wish you luck!All the luck in the world!" Barbara waved and started through the swinging doors, then paused."Oh, by the way! I wasn't golfing with Mike Winfeld today, but I did see him. And he asked about you." "That was nice," Bryn said.
"Umm," Barbara agreed,then added, "Gee, I wonder what he's still doing here? He should be chasing the tournaments! Oh, well, gotta go!"
Bryn finished the coffee and brought it out to the living room on a tray, only to discover that everyone had already gone up to the studio. She carried the coffee upstairs, looked through the glass window and saw them all sitting around. She couldn't hear a word they were saying, but she smiled because she knew the conversation was animated. Perry and Mick were both waving their hands around wildly.
She called out for someone to open the door,then realized they wouldn't hear her anyway. With a sigh she set the tray down and opened the door herself. "Coffee, guys!"
A chorus of "Thanks" came her way. Lee walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.
"Interrupt us if you need anything," he told her.
Bryn laughed. "Don't worry, I can entertain myself. I have the pictures, and I want to work out a bit."
The den, she had discovered during the week, had a stereo and a good wooden floor perfect for dance workouts. "I'll be fine," she assured Lee. Then she waved to the other guys and closed the door behind her as she left them.
Bryn went down to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, then took it to Lee's desk, where she pulled her latest batch of blowups from his top drawer. One by one she turned them over; then she flipped through them as an animator might to create a motion picture effect. There itwas, a man and a woman leaving a motel room. The man hugging the woman... opening the door of a dark sedan...
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ushering her into it. She had captured the action.
But whatdid it prove , she asked herself bleakly. You couldn't see the man's features clearly. She could try anotherblowup , but by that time the film would be so grainy it would still be impossible to see anything. She sighed and put the blowups back in the drawer. When Lee finished with the practice they could go back to the town house and take another stab at it. Bryn yawned and stretched and walked back upstairs. Lee was pounding away at the drums; everyone was working. She smiled; it seemed so strange to be able to see him but not hear him.
She changed into a leotard, tights and leg warmers, and went down to the den. Setting a Bach piece on the stereo, she allowed her mind to wander as her body moved automatically to the music.
Hammarfield... If he were guilty of kidnapping a little boy and terrorizing her, he had to be stopped. He was campaigning for the senate.For public office...
Sand traps.
She frowned, tripping inmidspin as the words popped unbidden into her mind.
Sand traps? What was she thinking about?
Then cold chills enveloped her, and her teeth started to chatter. Something that Barbara had said had been tugging at her subconscious all the while. She didn't know anything about golf, but what was it that Barbara had said? They should just have let her take her ball out of the sand without adding to her score. Golf, golf, golf... In the game of golf you were trying for the lowest score possible.