“What are you doing here?”

“Hello Marjorie,” replied Kumar getting up from the plush armchair he was sunk in and extending his hand towards her.

Marjorie closed her eyes for a second and took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said sounding apologetic for her direct sharp question. She stepped forward and gave Kumar a peck on his cheek. Kumar dropped his arm next to his body but remained standing. “Let me start again. I’m surprised to see you here. You’ve never come up to my parents’ country club by yourself before. You are by yourself?” she added sounding slightly alarmed. A thought flashed through her mind, stupid as it was, that maybe another woman had picked him from Newark train station.

Kumar smiled in recognition of her panic and reassured Marjorie that there was no other woman involved. “Are you having dinner with a member?” she asked trying her best to find out what had brought him up there.

It was the first week in October. College had restarted in earnest. Marjorie who was majoring in Computer Engineering and Kumar who was studying English Literature hadn’t seen each other since the late summer, when the two of them went to Gruning’s after dinner at her parents' home. She had called Kumar a couple of times especially on weekends, to see if he was available to come to her house for dinner or better yet, go out for an evening in the city. Kumar had declined both offers which seemed to annoy Marjorie. But here he was at 5 o’clock in the evening on a beautiful semi warm day in October, and there not by her invitation. They stood opposite each in awkward silence. Kumar certainly couldn’t sit down again, not with Marjorie standing and neither of them knew what to do next.

A few seconds later, just when they thought that all decorum was about to break down, Mr Levy appeared on the scene. Kumar smiled and shook his hand firmly, while Marjorie stood there with her mouth wide open. She couldn’t in her wildest dreams have ever imagined that scene playing out. She wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed, pleased or just stunned. Luckily for her, Mr Levy helped her out.

“Ms Rosenbaum, I believe, how very nice to see you.” Her mind was knocked out of neutral and she extended her hand to shake his.

“Marjorie” she replied smiling and Mr Levy acknowledged her answer with a polite nod of his head.

He then turned to Kumar and put his hand on his back,” are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” he replied and with that, the two men turned and walked into the Bridge room and closed the door behind them. Marjorie stood there for a few more long seconds before relaxing and began to walk out into the sunshine to await her parents arrival. She wasn’t comfortable just standing there. She was sure the valets amongst others had seen Kumar come in and then because of the layout of the large reception area at the club, all those in the informal dining area would’ve noticed the scene unfold.

Marjorie decided to walk along the road towards the driving range and as she did, she was stopped by Connor Smith the club’s pros’ son who she knew from kindergarten. She hadn’t seen him in years and didn’t recognise him, but he had.

“Miss Rosenbaum,” he said, “how nice to see you.”

Marjorie stopped her walk, took off her sunglasses and looked at the tall blonde man in his twenties who had a beautiful smile and a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. Her first reaction was he’s not a Jew, but then a vague recognition came over her. “Connor?” she asked.

“Yes Marjorie. I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your first name?”

“No, not at all,” she decided this young man who was definitely not marriage material, could be the perfect foil.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Doing well thanks,” she replied, “how are you? Are you….?” she asked trying to find out what he was doing nowadays, and Connor did her the honour of completing her thought.

“No, I didn’t go to college. I got accepted to Fairleigh Dickinson on a golf scholarship, but instead decided to join by dad’s business.”

Marjorie looked a little lost. “What business is that?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s the pro here, as you know. But the two of us have opened a golf gallery where kids can come and we teach them how to play. It’s a very lucrative business.”

“I’m sure it is,” she replied forcing a smile, but before she could continue with her questions, she heard her name called from the front of the club, but without turning she knew it was her mother. She extended her hand. Shook his and told him in the best possible tone she could muster, “maybe I need to have some golf lessons.” And with that, not waiting for his reply, she waved and left to join her mother.

“Who’s that?” asked her mother pointing to the young man who was now walking away towards the pro shop.

“That’s Connor Smith,” replied Brinkmanship.

“Really?” replied Sarah, “my, my, my, he has grown up to be quite a sight.”

“But he’s not Jewish and therefore not good for our Marjorie.”

“Oh of course not!” replied Sarah, “I was just saying.”

All three of them then locked arms and walked towards the steps to the club.

“By the way,” said Marjorie as quietly as she could. “Kumar is here.”

“Here!” replied Sarah loud enough for the valets to turn as if they someone had been shot. “Did you invite him?” she asked her daughter.

“No, I did not.”

“Well,” continued Sarah, “he can’t come here by himself, can he Brinkmanship?” Her husband was surprised to say the least.

“Mr Levy invited him,” Marjorie thought she would help her mother out.

“What’s wrong with the man?” she asked, as they all smiled at some members leaving the club. “He’s playing Bridge with him,” continued Marjorie.

The little group stopped abruptly. “Indians play Bridge?” she asked stunned by that admission. “Maybe he’s teaching him to play Mom,”

“Brinkman, why don’t you go in there and find out what’s happening?” asked Sarah to which Brinkman smiled and continued his walk towards the dining room. He wasn’t about to disturb them. After all, everyone with the exception of Kumar in there were billionaires and he was a mere millionaire.

When they arrived at their table and after being seated by the maitre de, one of Marjorie’s friends got up from her table and came over to rub salt into the wound. “I see your boyfriend is here with Mr Levy,” Carol said savouring every word that came out of her mouth.

“First of all, Carol, he isn’t my boy friend and second of all so what?”

Carol’s mother came over to lend her weight to the discussion, “I heard,” she said in glee, “that the guy you were going to introduce to us as a Maharaja, is in fact a champion Bridge player!” How she knew that no one at that moment knew, but it had the desired effect. Dinner became a long and painfully solemn affair.