Chapter 2 — The Man Who Kept Hawthorne Running
Ryan had barely heard his grandfather mention Hawthorne Tennis Club.
That alone suddenly seemed strange.
Thomas Bennett loved tennis.
He had taught Rachel.
Rachel later taught Ryan.
Some of Ryan’s earliest memories involved bouncing tennis balls against his grandfather’s garage wall.
Yet Thomas never once brought him to Hawthorne.
Arthur looked toward Derek.
“Call Margaret.”
Derek hesitated.
“Mr. Hale, I really shouldn’t—”
Arthur lifted one eyebrow.
“Call the club manager.”
Derek picked up the phone.
While they waited, Arthur sat beside Ryan.
He kept the old photograph in his hand.
“Your grandfather worked here for fourteen years.”
Ryan stared at him.
“Worked here?”
Arthur nodded.
Thomas had been Hawthorne’s head court keeper.
Before modern resurfacing crews and automated irrigation, Thomas maintained nearly everything himself.
Clay courts.
Grass edges.
Net posts.
Fences.
Lighting.
Drainage.
“Half the club only functioned because Thomas arrived before sunrise,” Arthur said.
Ryan smiled faintly.
That sounded exactly like his grandfather.
“Was he a player?”
Arthur laughed.
“Better than several members who paid a fortune to tell everyone they were players.”
Thomas was not a club member.
Employees were allowed to use empty courts after closing.
Arthur often stayed late.
That was how they became friends.
Then Rachel began coming with Thomas on school holidays.
“She was about six in that photograph.”
Arthur pointed toward the little girl.
“Your mother could barely hold a racket properly.”
“She says Grandpa taught her.”
“He did.”
Arthur smiled.
“But I taught her the backhand she still probably claims she invented herself.”
Ryan laughed.
Then he looked toward the computer.
“What happened in 1998?”
Arthur’s expression changed.
Before he could answer, club manager Margaret Ellis arrived.
She saw Arthur.
Then Ryan.
Then the old photograph.
“What’s going on?”
Arthur pointed toward the monitor.
“Apparently Thomas Bennett is still banned from a club he never did anything wrong to.”
Margaret froze.
“Bennett?”
Arthur stared at her.
“You know the name.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“There’s an old disciplinary file.”
Ryan’s stomach tightened.
Arthur stood.
“Then go get it.”