"Swing a club first so I can see," he said.
"Okay, Your Majesty."
Ella Thompson took the club. Its surface was still warm from Alvin Lindsey's touch: familiar, comforting. It reminded her of how Arthur's touch used to make her heart flutter.
She remembered the swing he taught her, step by step. Standing closed to the ball, gripping the club with her right, left hand assisting. She pulled back, aimed at the ball, pushed off the ground, turned her hips and shoulder, swung her club up in the air, and returned to the finish. Everything was done in perfect order, each movement standard.
Alvin Lindsey gave her a thumbs up. "Not bad," he remarked. "You have a good foundation."
"But all I have is form. I don't think I got the ball anywhere near the hole," Ella replied without confidence.
"Come, let's find the ball and see."
Her swing sparked Lindsey's interest. Led by the staff, they followed in the direction the ball had flown.
Ten minutes later,
