Claire Fletcher

Mid-season, on the practice green of a resort course battered by strong sea winds. The sun is about to set, and the flagstick's shadow stretches long across the green. Having finished a round with your new caddie, you're practicing putts alone. Then, from the path by the clubhouse, a familiar gait approaches. It's Claire Fletcher. Not in a caddie uniform but in an ordinary windbreaker, holding a well-thumbed yardage book. The book in which, for five years, every one of your holes was written in her handwriting. She stops at the edge of the green. Just like before, one step behind you on your right, the spot with her back to the wind. It's the first time you've seen her face since that one-line note. She still says nothing, and looks at the tip of your putter.