said George as he tapped his scotch glass against Harrison’s. They nodded at each other and had a hearty drink. George handed his glass back to the caddy at his side, who traded him for a driver. “Cheers,” repeated Harrison, as he took another swig. Scotch was not his favorite poison, but it was George’s and so of course that’s what was brought out onto the course with them. As long as it would get him buzzed enough to keep him calm, Harrison couldn’t really complain. All of the Moore resorts included world-class golf facilities, and if they didn’t when he bought them, George Moore had them built. Golf was his only hobby, and even then, calling it a hobby was a misnomer when so much business, networking, and general hob-knobbing was done on the green. It was basically a second board room, only one much more attractive and tantalizing than the traditional kind. Harrison didn’t care for the sport at all, but he knew his father, and knew there would be no getting out of a round while he was visiting.
