The Big Bang

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The Big Bang Page 16

by Linda Joffe Hull


  I hereby tender my resignation as Community Violations Chair, effective immediately.

  Thank you for the opportunity to serve.

  Sincerely,

  Will Pierce-Cohn

  On behalf of the board, I would like to wish Mr. Pierce-Cohn all the best in his decision to focus his volunteer efforts on an expanded role in the Melody Mountain Elementary PTA.

  Laney lifted her cup once again, but to Will, whose anger over the playground, and not entirely surprising resignation, clearly provided the catalyst for her quickly realigning day.

  Assuming the Community Violations Chair, effective today, will be Tim Trautman of 35424 Wonderland Valley Court. Mr. Trautman’s experience as both Treasurer and Vice-President in the Eagle’s Nest Vista subdivision makes him more than qualified to step into the position. We welcome Tim and look forward to getting to know him, his wife Theresa, and their soon-to-be expanding brood.

  As Laney skimmed the current budget, tabled-until-June business about upcoming road repairs, and the proposed directory of property owners, she couldn’t help but marvel over the sheer synchronicity of it all. How interconnected. She’d shown a home, using, as Frank called them, soon-to-be completed mini-Eden playgrounds, sure to make more complete that little slice of heaven we call Melody Mountain Ranch as selling points, only to have those playgrounds result in a resignation that freed up her wildly overscheduled day.

  Not to mention a position on the homeowner’s board for Tim Trautman, her buyer.

  If she hadn’t sold the house to the Trautmans which eventually led, even if indirectly, to Will’s resignation, she wouldn’t be looking at the word-for-word report and hour-by-hour schedule, now entitled, Our Upcoming, Not-to-be-Missed Memorial Weekend she’d submitted, but prayed she wouldn’t have to give in person.

  Frank’s, Tim’s, and her own intentions heard and answered, en masse, by The Universe.

  With his Thanks to Laney Estridge, her committee, and the Melody Mountain youth group for their work, Laney drained her coffee cup in toast to herself.

  She was about to double-click on Compose Message to let Sarah know she was off the hook when she spotted the droplet of blood on her desk.

  Sensing moisture from her nostril and just ahead of the gush, she reached for the Kleenex box, and had a wad of tissue pressed against her nose before the bleeding could damage the keyboard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Improvements: A homeowner may proceed with improvements without advance approval by the Architectural Committee if the homeowner follows stated guidelines. ANY OTHER IMPROVEMENT NOT SPECIFICALLY LISTED REQUIRES COMMITTEE REVIEW AND WRITTEN APPROVAL.

  After begging the last woman he’d hooked up with not to absolve her extramarital guilt by blabbing the details of how they’d gotten it on in the back of her husband’s newly leased Lexus, Tim all but lost interest in the need for a little strange.

  Until he spotted Hope, bent over her oven in black lingerie.

  He couldn’t be entirely delusional in thinking she might be willing to re-create the scene for him in the near future. After all, she’d invited him into her nearly identical but infinitely more tasteful home for a meeting in her guest bedroom.

  “Can I get you anything before we get started?” Hope asked.

  If her invitation weren’t offered under the pretense of baby nursery planning for his wife, Tim would have taken his chances, leaned in, and kissed her then and there. “I’m good, thanks.”

  She started up the stairs in a tight-ish top and appropriately short skirt. “Follow me.”

  Anywhere, Tim whispered silently, falling in behind her.

  Given the less-than-ideal circumstances, she’d have to make the first move, but he’d get to give that first, and only, no for the record. Something along the lines of, the attraction is undeniable, but the action is nothing to take lightly whispered quietly, with the proper expression of intensity. Afterwards, when the glow still colored her cheekbones, but the guilt waterworks began, he would hold her, assure her what had happened was not her fault, but inevitable. He’d whisper that everything was truly okay as long as they kept this moment, and any others that might ever or never happen again, to themselves. His promise, to never let anyone else feel their shared pain of knowing how they felt about each other, would be that much more poignant.

  Especially if it turned out to be true, which was a distinct possibility, given the glimpse he got of upper thigh as she started up the stairs.

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” she said.

  Or, fingers crossed, would be sooner, rather than later.

  “Thanks,” he said in answer to what she was actually talking about. “I got the call from Frank asking me to take over Will’s position on Monday night and by Tuesday morning calls and e-mails were already rolling in from covenant violators.”

  “Seems weird Will resigned like that.”

  “Apparently he’s been thinking about it for a while.”

  “Oh,” she said, reaching the landing at the top of the stairs.

  “He said he’s been asked to cochair the PTA at his kids’ school or something.”

  “I was worried he quit over the whole playground issue.”

  “Not according to him.”

  “That makes me feel better,” she said. “I’m sure volunteering in the best interest of his kids has to be a more gratifying work than trying to reason with irritated homeowners, anyway.”

  “Maybe I should have given that a little more consideration before I said yes.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be great,” she said.

  He simply smiled, followed her down the hallway, and stepped into what he could only call a truly beautiful nursery. Awash in the warmest shade of yellow he’d ever seen, Hope had somehow managed to capture the absolute peace of standing in a colorful garden under a shade tree enjoying a gentle cooling breeze. No detail, from the baby furniture to the accent flowers painted along the base of the walls to the insect-themed curtains, matching bedside lamps, and throw rugs, was overlooked. The place was baby Eden.

  Squared.

  “Wow,” he managed.

  “You like it?”

  “Love it, but I’m back to feeling guilt-ridden over commandeering your nursery.”

  She pointed to a daybed covered in lavender swatches of paint and fabric that, despite not being pulled together, was already beginning to look like a purple version of her existing nursery. “Honestly Tim, working on this plan for you makes me feel like I did when I put the design together in the first place.” Her eyes, already a liquid blue, sparkled. “Hopeful.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, hopeful himself that somehow, the emotion of it all might have her feeling the need to whisk all that crap off the bed and replace it with him.

  She walked directly over to the bed like she’d read his mind, but instead of doing the improbable, or even slightly more plausible act of removing everything gingerly and moving it neatly elsewhere before attacking him, she picked up a binder with Trautman Nursery scrawled across the front in lavender pen. “And as I said the other day, once you pick the tones, fabrics, and finish accessories the room might have a similar feeling, but it’ll have its own look.”

  “It’s looking like I may be in over my head.”

  “I’ll go easy on you,” she smiled.

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  “For example,” she pointed toward the opposite wall, “ignore the book shelf and changing table and picture an interconnecting shelving system with a storage bench that goes under and around the window.” She opened the notebook and handed him a tear sheet. “You’ll have all the storage you’ll need but still have room for a double dresser with changing stations.”

  His head was already spinning.

  “Which leads me to window treatment options.”

  “As in curtains?”

  “Sheers or panels.” she stepped across the room and tugged on what were apparently sheers. “I
’ll put a few different styles, including valances and roller shade choices, in the binder for you and Theresa to pick from.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “As for lighting,” she handed him something she’d printed off the Internet. “This one with the butterfly and flower motif would be perfect.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, meaning it, particularly when he spotted the red Target tag and a price point of $24.99.

  “I think you should consider this chair-and-a-half so one person can comfortably sit with both babies. We can order it with a lavender petal ribbon stripe that pulls in colors from the comforter. If not…”

  Tim felt himself drifting off somewhere after blue vs. gray lavender and hand-painted baby wipe dispensers and didn’t quite tune back until he heard hand blown.

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Sure.”

  She smiled and noted something in her binder. “Have I lost you?”

  “No way,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe just a little decorating overload.”

  “I have pretty much all the information I need to get the plan pulled together,” she said. “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?” He smiled.

  “What about doing some flowers like I have running along the base of the walls?”

  “As in a mural?”

  “Given the history of murals in your house, I’d normally advise against that.” She giggled. “But widely spaced three-dimensional flowers at the baseboard could be really cute.” She paused. “Especially if we mix in some birds and bees.”

  Their eyes met.

  Hope’s cell phone chirped.

  She grabbed the phone from its pole position in her back pocket and looked at the display. “I’m afraid I have to take this.”

  The bad timing was so perfect, he was sure it had to be her husband.

  “Hi, Frank,” she said.

  Or Griffin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  3.0. Right of Appeal. If a Committee denies or imposes conditions on a proposed improvement or homeowner, a homeowner may appeal by giving written notice of such appeal within

  twenty-one days.

  Hope’s new aquamarine and silver bracelet caught a ray of morning sunlight and sent refracted blue light dancing across the dashboard as she turned off I-70 and onto the Pena Boulevard airport overpass. “It’s really beautiful, Jim.”

  “Glad you like it,” he said.

  More a token sorry I’m leaving on Mother’s Day than soon to be a Mother gift, there was no denying the bracelet’s significance. Jim knew she loved blue and any blue gemstone. What he didn’t know was that aquamarine was April’s birthstone. She touched her left breast to reconfirm the tenderness she’d been feeling for the better part of a week. The tenderness she felt every time they’d had sex, which was every day since day fourteen, just to be sure.

  The gift was another of the undeniable signs that continued to present themselves. It couldn’t just be coincidence that Jim gave her an aquamarine bracelet on a Mother’s Day that would be all about completing her nursery layout for the Trautmans and finalizing the playground plans.

  Both of which projects were foretold by Renata.

  A new life is ready to come through very soon.

  All she needed was confirmation from the pregnancy test sitting on the counter awaiting tomorrow’s first-morning urine from the first day of her missed period.

  “Cop ahead,” Jim said.

  Hope slowed and watched the needle drop below sixty-five.

  “British Airways is east terminal, I think,” he said, scanning the signs directing Denver International traffic. “No, no, west.”

  If she could get him dropped off by 8:40, she’d be back home loading her car by 9:15 and over at the Trautmans to set up by 9:45. Ten at the latest, depending on when Tim could get away from church to help her get the car unloaded. She’d felt bad having to run off after Frank called to deal with the plant mix-up at the nursery, but Tim was satisfied by her offer to come over to his house during church again and not only lay out the nursery plan, but arrange the room so the various options they’d discussed from paint color to fabric swatches were set up for Theresa.

  She’d be done by noon at the latest, giving her time to relax before she was due to meet with Frank.

  Maybe even take a little nap.

  Had she really just considered taking a nap between work on the two projects that made her feel unbelievably happy and energized?

  “Hope! It’s the west terminal!”

  “Oops,” she said, veering out of the far left lane.

  Her text message alert buzzed before she’d completely corrected her almost mistake. “Can you check and see who that is for me?”

  Had to be Tim calling to confirm timing.

  Jim took her phone from the center console. “Frank Griffin.”

  Or Frank, who’d put her on speed dial judging by the amount of calls and texts that had been coming in, would likely continue, until the playground was done and set up.

  “Need me to read it to you?”

  “I’ll get back to him after I drop you off.”

  “’Kay.” Jim half-nodded.

  “He tends to check in more if he knows you’re going to be out of town.”

  “Be sure and thank him for me when you do,” Jim said rechecking the outer pouch of his briefcase for his passport and tickets. “Nice to know someone’s looking in on you for me.”

  Would he be so blasé if she admitted Frank’s interest in both her professional abilities and her well-being had her feeling more appreciated than she had since—?

  Her text alert buzzed again as she made her way past long-term parking. “Frank again?”

  “Nope,” Jim said. “Tim Trautman.”

  Since she ran into Tim at Home Depot?

  “Read it?” Jim asked.

  Since she’d be calling Jim tomorrow with the best, most commitment affirming of news, there wasn’t any harm in sending him off across the Atlantic with one of Tim Trautman’s flirty texts to mull over. “Read it.”

  Hope ur morning’s been happy so far, Jim read. Theresa wants 2 blow off church for a mom’s day family outing. Totally bummin but im afraid i won’t be able 2 sneak away n meet up with u this AM at my house. I left u a key.

  “Interesting,” Jim said.

  He’d seen the lavender fabric swatches all over the nursery, seen the schematic she’d been trying to make self-service for Theresa, and knew she was supposed to set up the Trautman nursery. But, shouldn’t he also be wondering, like she did, if Tim really was a little more interested than he should be? “Why’s that?”

  “He texts like a teenager,” he said.

  And, if she had to be honest, had a way of making her feeling like one. Not having him there to help her set up, to be there to stand back and admire the project unfolding in his nursery, felt a little more disappointing than she might have expected.

  “There’s British Airways right up ahead,” he said.

  But, not as disappointing as Jim’s distracted nonreaction.

  “I see it,” she said, pulling up to the curb and stopping the car in front of the skycap.

  Jim handed over her cell and unclipped his seat belt.

  “I really wish we could have booked a ticket for me. I mean—”

  “I know honey, but we’ve been over this.”

  “But you’ll try to be back by Memorial Weekend?”

  “Do my best.”

  She pushed down any pointless questions and what ifs about next month’s ovulation by checking her breast for the comforting tenderness.

  “Love you.” He kissed her.

  “Love you, too.” She kissed him back.

  “Call you when I land.” He pulled his suitcase and briefcase from the back seat.

  Her text alert buzzed again as he closed the door.

  ***

  So far, Mother’s Day had been one of the nicest Mary
ellen could remember. Frank and Eva had gotten up early and prepared all her favorites, from black coffee in bed to a breakfast spread of cantaloupe, egg whites, turkey bacon, and even the banana pancakes she nibbled on to show her appreciation.

  She slid the cool opal along the chain of her new Mother’s charm necklace, finished unloading the dishwasher, and watched Frank open the shed, pull the outdoor chair cushions from storage, and begin to beat the winter dirt out of them. That he’d taken on the job of getting the patio furniture out and cleaned without having been asked was one of the best presents of all.

  She slid open the screen door and joined him on the back deck. “Thinking you might like to have an early dinner out here tonight?”

  “Hadn’t thought about it.” He draped a cushion over the railing and began to spray it with the hose. “We certainly could.”

  “Let’s do. It’s so beautiful out today.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

  She turned back for the kitchen to look up a recipe for an appropriately outdoorsy dish he might be willing to throw on the grill to cap off his day of above-average husbandry. But, before she stepped through the sliding doors and back into the house, she stopped and turned back around. “I figured you were hosing off the cushions because you wanted to eat out here.”

  “Hope’s coming over in a little while to finalize the plans for this week.” He pointed the sprayer at a chair cushion leaning against one of the deck posts. “I thought she might enjoy sitting outside.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Section 6.2A. Notice of Completion: Upon completion of improvement to property, applicant must give written notice to improvement committee for review and final approval.

  No matter how faint, Hope was sure she saw a hint of pink running down the results window. If she hadn’t woken up practically every hour and diluted the results by peeing twice, she’d have screamed the good news into the phone to Jim when he called to say he’d landed safely. Instead, she decided to hold her urine all afternoon and evening to take the “bonus” test for absolute confirmation. Once she saw the line again, she’d ring Jim right away and give him the good news. There’d be no tension between them about how long he thought he might be gone, or the details of his job, only excitement, unadulterated joy, and his promise to be home as soon as he could to witness the process of watching her bloom.

 

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