The Kingsley family had already claimed a large round table near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the eighteenth hole.

Douglas stood up the moment he saw me step onto the patterned carpet.

He wore a tailored tan suit and a bright yellow silk tie.

He clapped his large hands together and gave a booming greeting that drew curious glances from two nearby tables.

“George, my friend, have a seat right here next to the man of the hour,” Douglas said.

He reached across the table and handed me a thick imported cigar wrapped in a gold paper band.