“I think this is it,” my husband, Francis, said pulling onto a gravel driveway off of lonely Highway 1. A nearby sign read “Twin Hills Motel,” which was a row of outdated pastel cottages, with bugs orbiting their porch lights…
“I think this is it,” my husband, Francis, said pulling onto a gravel driveway off of lonely Highway 1. A nearby sign read “Twin Hills Motel,” which was a row of outdated pastel cottages, with bugs orbiting their porch lights…
I was a rookie, a newbie, mere filler to these veteran lady golfers who’d been playing with each other for years. They weren’t interested in meeting new people. I’d have to play by their rules and bide my time…