The Big Bang

by Linda Joffe Hull

  By that time, the neighborhood children would be happily ensconced in summer play and no one but his delighted parishioners and Pierce-Cohn would care anymore about the switch.

  “Roll call,” Frank said, to get the proceedings moving along before the honorable Mrs. Pierce-Cohn came home to spring her man from household Hades. If she really cared about family and community as much as she claimed, she’d resign from the state legislature and send her desperate househusband back to work.

  Not that Frank was worried.

  Once the community saw the new recreation space arrangement they’d hammered out, ratification, technically a formality since he’d already signed the paperwork, would be a foregone conclusion. “Chair is, of course, present.”

  A handful of covenant breakers and complainers already had their hands in the air.

  He looked past a repeat offender from Allegro Meadow Drive, fined again for leaving his boat in excess of forty-eight hours in front of the house, and nodded to the first-time violator to the man’s right.

  “I received a citation for shampooing the carpet on my front driveway and…”

  “To my knowledge, wall-to-wall is typically cleaned inside the house.”

  “Not when the padding’s moldy and has to be replaced while the carpet’s being treated.”

  “Wouldn’t a mold problem override covenant restrictions?” Roseanne Goldberg, neighborhood expert on all things scientifically dubious, added.

  “I’m not sure there is a section that refers to indoor carpet cleaning done outdoors,” Frank said. He couldn’t allow one of her diatribes to give Pierce-Cohn time to arrive and derail the evening’s important business. “But I agree an exemption may be in order until we investigate further.”

  Both the violator and Mrs. Goldberg nodded and took their seats.

  “In fact, I’ve decided to pardon all of tonight’s attendees from fines associated with their infractions—assuming proof of compliance is provided within ninety days.”

  Hands went down and sighs of unanticipated grace filled the room.

  He pretended to scan for other raised hands. “As there appear to be no further questions, I’ll continue with roll call. Officers?”

  Over a chorus of present, Frank nodded to his energetic, industrious treasurer. With her Christian spirit and can-do attitude, Jane Hunt was a bright spot on the board. Why her ex-husband decided to become a woman on her was a true mystery. “Ms. Hunt, would you please review the minutes from the last meeting?”

  He hopped off the riser behind the podium and sat before she could stand to full height.

  With an upward adjustment of the microphone, Jane began to cite the previous month’s minutes. “Our last meeting was called to order at six P.M. on March first. Notices were sent out for the following covenant infractions: 12354 Melody Way for installing a basketball hoop without painting the backboard to match the trim work; 31724 Songbird Mountain Circle for…”

  The double doors banged open.

  Will Pierce-Cohn paused for a moment in the doorway, scanned the room—for allies, no doubt—and then entered looking his usual diminutive, unkempt self. The damp pits of his faded polo shirt threatened the paperwork tucked under his arm.

  Frank looked pointedly at his Bulova.

  “Sorry. My wife was tied up in a legislative session.”

  “Not a problem.” Despite irritation over the inevitable scuffle ahead, it was probably to his benefit to have Pierce-Cohn show up late, looking like the disheveled distraction everyone knew him to be, than absent and filing objections after the fact. If nothing else, Frank would get to see P-C’s reaction as the playground surprises unfolded.

  “I recall this meeting to order at seven past six.”

  Jane shook her head in what was surely a show of annoyance solidarity.

  “A $100 fine was assessed to 19432 Meadow View Drive for repeatedly violating the no nudity in backyard hot tubs clause…”

  Frank chuckled along with everyone else.

  P-C sat expressionless, arms folded.

  “Under discussion,” Jane continued, “was a stray cat problem in the neighborhood. An inquiry committee has been appointed. Also announced was Henderson Homes’ offer to extend warranty coverage for driveway cracking and selected issues related to expansive soils in the Phase One cul-de-sacs. It was voted on and passed that the toilet tissue in the rec center be downgraded to reduce costs and impede spitball formation. The savings from this and other cost saving measures instituted over the past year allowed the board to consider and approve…”

  Frank nodded along as Jane detailed the increase in suburban crime and the security system she’d negotiated for the community center to combat said dangers. Melody Meadow Ranch didn’t have webcams to keep tabs on the kiddies as they frolicked in the fountain like the Stapleton development or to ensure safe shopping like the Bel Mar Main Street, but at least the assets of the rec center would now be secure.

  On his cue, his wife, Maryellen, padded silently toward the art supply closet.

  Frank smiled watching P-C watch Maryellen disappear among the easels and paints. While Frank preferred his slim, schoolgirl pretty wife in colors, he’d had her wear an earth-toned skirt and blouse tonight so she wouldn’t distract anyone from the oversized metal cart she extracted from the closet.

  Jane finished discussing the details of the security install, threw in a subtle but preapproved pitch for her home security business, and uttered the word playground. Maryellen rolled the cart into the center of the room and halted in front of the podium, as planned.

  Not part of the plan was the floral scarf she’d added to her ensemble.

  Frank strode around from behind the board members, stopped beside the cart, and shot Maryellen a quick look before she returned to her seat.

  “Ranchers…” He pinched the coarse linen cloth covering the contents of the cart between his fingers. “I present to you the prototype for our new community playgrounds.”

  He tugged the sheet.

  In the center of an open Plexiglas box, a diorama of a tri-level play structure nestled in a soft bed of pale sand. Plastic children smiled mid-swing from the monkey bars. Smiling mothers tended to plump babies on cozy benches beneath the shade of towering shade trees.

  The enthusiastic oohs and aahs hardly did his display justice.

  “Frank.” Pierce-Cohn’s voice warbled like he was in the throes of puberty.

  “Discussion hasn’t been called yet,” Jane said.

  “I’ll allow it.” With the warm response of the crowd, Frank didn’t have to force his smile. “Mr. Pierce-?”

  P-C was on his feet before Frank could get out the post-hyphen segment of his name. “Are the fully grown trees part and parcel of the project, too?”

  “We’ll have to plant young trees for cost effectiveness.” The man’s desperation was palpable. “I’m sure you all realize this is merely an artist’s rendering of the two projected playgrounds.”

  “Frank, there’s no denying the appeal of your model or the idea of our children finally enjoying a new playground.” Temporarily silenced by another round of applause, he continued, “but I have concerns about the location changes as well as the new locations themselves.”

  Frank nodded thoughtfully as though considering P-C’s position.

  Will set the petition on the podium. “So do a number of members of this community.”

  “I see,” Frank said, pretending to scan the legalese. His eyes dropped down to the only section of interest: the handful of signatures on the lines below.

  He never made it past the loopy, feminine signature on the first line.

  Hope Jordan.

  He looked at the name again in disbelief.

  Hope was his neighbor. His parishioner. He’d not only excused her last two covenant violations, but also made changes to the landscaping regulations when she’d argued for a more inclusive approved planting list. “I’m concerned, too,” he finally managed, turning to whisk a g
rain of sand from the flag adorning the enclosed fort atop the third level. “Concerned the residents of this community get that which they were promised. And more.”

  “Frank, you know I want what’s best for this community and that includes a new playground for our children.” Will shook his head dramatically. “Neighbors and friends, I stand to benefit more than most of you since one of the proposed relocation sites is on my, Frank’s, own street.” He paused. “But I can’t help but wonder why Henderson Homes left prime lots, one on our cul-de-sac, undeveloped in the first place.”

  How could Hope have depended on him for friendship, guidance, and support these last months with her infertility problems and then gone and signed that rabble-rouser’s petition?

  Against him.

  “Henderson Homes is the premier planned community developer in the Front Range. They are all about quality, which is one of the primary reasons I chose Melody Mountain Ranch for my family and ministry.” Frank cleared his throat. “Not to mention the promise of ample green space and parks.”

  The applause rolled through him like a soothing wave.

  “I’m telling you, there is something off, at least with the Songbird Canyon Court plot of green space,” Pierce-Cohn said. “The soil is too soggy.”

  “Making it the perfect site for a neighborhood park,” Frank said.

  “The original site at the corner of Wonderland Valley Road and Wonderland Valley Court was perfect—set on land that’s homestead adjacent, but zoned commercial to keep strip malls and gas stations from dotting hillside views and… ”

  “Which is why Henderson Homes got tangled up with the zoning board for so long. Besides, the property faces east and is only accessible by foot for the neighbors on the adjacent cul-de-sacs.”

  “So is the Songbird Canyon Court site.”

  “The walking path will be extended to the green belt beside it.”

  “It’s a rabbit habitat.”

  “We’re overrun by the end of summer as it is.” He glanced out onto the audience of bobbing heads. “I think we can all agree on that.”

  “Then you plan to exterminate the rabbits?”

  “Relocate.”

  “No need. The play structure will sink.”

  “Not if it’s moored in concrete.”

  Perspiration dampened Pierce-Cohn’s forehead. “And there’s the size of the land relative to the original.”

  Frank stood taller than his five feet eight inches, set his shoulders back. The shock of seeing Hope’s name had distracted him. He’d let P-C go on too long. “We stand to gain nearly a third more acreage.”

  “You mean a third less, don’t you?”

  Frank smiled. Almost winked at Tim Trautman to show him how it was done in Melody Mountain Ranch. “Because some of the land is admittedly flawed, but eminently fixable, I was able to negotiate with Henderson Homes for an unprecedented deal.” He paused for an extra-long beat for the room to quiet down. “We’ll not only have identical playgrounds on Songbird Canyon Court and Warbler Way, but I also managed to wrangle a mini-sports park for the older kids in the southernmost cul-de-sac of Phase Four.”

  “On Hummingbird Cove?” someone asked.

  “Exactly,” Frank said over the applause.

  Pierce-Cohn’s face was priceless.

  If only Hope were there to look as contrite.

  He allowed implications to echo through the room. Before Will could ask about the fate of the soon-to-be-forgotten-by-everyone-but-Pierce-Cohn former parcel of playground land in question, the answer to which was a secret known only to himself and the top brass at Henderson Homes, he added, “In addition, the play equipment manufacturer discounted the second structure by nearly thirty percent because we’re doing two sets.” Over the cheers he allowed himself a smile of victory. “With the approval of my fellow board, the children of Melody Mountain Ranch will have not one, but three new playgrounds by the start of summer.”

  ***

  Eva Griffin stroked her velvet cape and looked out at the group of kids circling her basement ping-pong table. If she could get everyone out of the house by eight, there’d be plenty of time to mask the smell of burning candles and weed with a Glade plug-in before her parents came home from their homeowner’s board meeting.

  Following the rules of order in her bible, Covens Made Simple, she bowed her head at Tyler Pierce-Cohn, her head warlock and BFF-with-benefits. “Eagle feather and raven’s claw, our coven meeting is now called.”

  While Tyler technically discovered Witchcraft in a library book, Eva ran with it, bringing the sacred peace to their suburban Hell. She handpicked prospects from the halls of Melody Mountain High and around the neighborhood. She designed their capes from curtain fabric. She uncovered a real Athame in a bin of rusty hardware and unearthed a bag of initiation charms while she was stuck on one of her mom’s wretched yard sale expeditions.

  Working as prop master in the school theater department provided the perfect cover. If her dad let her act in anything other than the church Easter pageant or silly Sunday morality one-acts, she might never have envisioned the tableau spread before her.

  Christian girls don’t overindulge.

  Christian girls don’t dress like whores.

  Christian girls don’t do secular theater.

  Eva smiled at her growing flock.

  They led covens.

  She nodded at her crew before turning to the two newbies standing together in the back of the room. The first, Heather McDaniel, a sophomore wanna-be black girl was outcast from the real African-American kids and needed a new gang of homies. The other, Lauren Trautman, was new at Melody Mountain High. Disney teen star pretty, with shoulder-length black curls and blue eyes, she looked like she’d shown up at the wrong after-school club. It was a wonder the cheerleader crowd hadn’t already snapped her up.

  Lauren smiled like she was at a pep rally.

  Apparently, girlfriend was fated for more important things than Saturday night keggers and guys with letter jackets.

  They all were.

  As soon as she initiated these two, they would have the thirteen official members she needed to start casting real spells.

  Eva waved her wand over the elaborate altar of feathers, seashells, incense, and candles. “High-ranking warlock, I call upon thee for the altar blessing.”

  Tyler stepped forward, the hood of his robe pulled over his wavy brown hair. His eyebrow piercing, a tiny hoop with a treble charm, reflected in the flickering candlelight. Glassy-eyed from the preceremony bong they’d shared, he began to recite the opening chant:

  Blessed be the precious and preserving air, the breath of life, of inspiration and delight…

  Tyler’s words echoed through the basement.

  One of the Estridge twins sniffled.

  The other sneezed.

  Eva made a mental note to look up a potion to keep their allergies or whatever from disrupting the ceremonies.

  Blessed be the precious, preserving Earth, the flesh of life, our sustainer and our wisdom.

  “Praise the Goddess.” The silver curl of moon she’d painted above her brow pulsed with power as she raised her hands to quiet the rustle of voices in the room. She turned toward Heather and Lauren. “I hereby pronounce you to be Dedicants.”

  “Whoa!” Tyler looked confused. “We didn’t even have new member orientation, yet.”

  “Special events allow for special circumstances.” She allowed a smile. “We now have the divine power of thirteen.”

  “True that,” he admitted.

  “Time to try a spell.”

  “Don’t you think we’re kind of rushing?”

  “No.” Eva ran the edge of a black-painted Bowie knife across the surface of the chimes suspended above the altar. “And so it is done.”

  She returned to the altar and turned to Libby Estridge. “Mistress Elizabeth, please read from the Witch Book.”

  Libby bowed and picked up a leather-bound journal with a removable pentagram stic
ker affixed to the front. “Our last meeting coincided with the crescent moon. After the memorial service for our sacred feline, Chalice, a committee was appointed to locate a new coven cat.”

  Eva wiped a tear with her robe sleeve. When her secret stray disappeared from under the patio, she couldn’t help but think her father was somehow involved. At holiday time, she’d written KITTEN in block letters at the top of her list. On Christmas Day, when she cried because there was no purr of a furry little creature, he’d said, “Your mother is allergic,” which wasn’t true. Worse, he added like he was joking, “Cats come from and go to Hell.”

  What about cat killers?

  He was so fucking controlling about everything in his house, she definitely wouldn’t put offing a poor kitten living under the deck past him.

  “The following incantations were deemed promising: the pool area lock opening spell and the extended snow-day spell. A committee was appointed to work on the love potion after Hannah Hunt accidentally attracted that freak math teacher. Also, we will only hold youth group meetings at the rec center until the new security system is installed. Since we won’t have any more privacy after that, future meetings will be held—”

  “At my house. Thank you, Libby.” She had to keep the pacing up so the energy peaked at the perfect moment. “New business.”

  “Didn’t think we were finished with old business, yet,” Tyler said.

  “Time constraints. Besides, our coven has achieved the divine number. It’s time to test our casting abilities.”

  Tyler furrowed his brow. “Tonight?”

  Apparently he wasn’t as stoned as she’d hoped. “I found a cool spell we have to try.”

  “And what would that be?”