The Big Bang (23 page)

“Okay.” Her heels clicked across the front hall then stopped. “You are going to show up, aren’t you, Will?”

He had to, that or face a rehash of the Mother’s Day
discussion
that, despite his insistence he’d left the HOB to redirect his efforts in the direction of activities where his contributions might be better appreciated, like volunteering at the kids’ book fair, collecting items for the school auction, and organizing field day, would end with Meg calling his resignation a cop-out.

At least she hadn’t gone so far as to sucker punch him with any snide remark about his embarrassing incident at Laney’s, or even chide him about being the spouse of a political figure at a sex toy party.

“No worries,” he said.

“See you there.” The door closed behind Meg with a cross-breeze thud.

Will headed for the three loads of laundry awaiting folding into piles separated by destination—a suitcase bound for Florida or the appropriate dresser to await post-vacation service. By his calculations, the timing of the separating and folding process would make him miss Meg’s speech and just enough of whatever Frank Griffin had to say for him to amble across the street and catch Randall Fowler cut the ribbon.

Frank Griffin’s amplified
Welcome!
rattled through the house.

Will separated the laundry into a going-to-Florida pile and a not-going pile.

Really, no one would notice exactly when he’d shown up as long as he managed to raise the conciliatory glass of champagne he’d need as social lubricant.

By the first round of clapping, he had all the key clothing folded into the suitcases he’d placed next to each other on the floor for him and Meg.

Her name rang through his closed bedroom window.

He folded the remainder of the clothing in the not-less-than five and not-more-than-ten minutes he knew to be the length of her speeches, left the rest in piles for later, picked up Tyler’s clothing, and started for his room.

He set his stepson’s clothing into what was supposed to be a mostly packed suitcase, but Tyler’s setup and cleanup obligations, coupled with a teen lack of enthusiasm for a family vacation that included Disneyworld, guaranteed there was no way he was packing for himself. For once, Will almost appreciated the blow-off on Tyler’s part.

Outside, the crowd clapped for his wife.

He started down the stairs.

Avoiding the front door, and with it, the increased likelihood of Frank or anyone else on stage noting his exact arrival time, he headed for the kitchen and slid open the patio door.

“It truly took a village to raise these playgrounds,” Frank’s voice rang through the crisp but quickly warming air.

Will locked the sliding glass door and started across the patio. Despite lingering concerns, there was no denying how nice the playground looked at the end of the cul-de-sac. The convenience was indisputable—a fact he planned to mention as soon as he ran into Hope. Before she could utter a cursory hello, before he had to pretend he didn’t notice the vague guilt that had better be etched in her face, or suffer any half-baked platitudes she’d come up with to explain her thoughts about her partnership with Frank, he’d congratulate her on a job well done.

Frank cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank Henderson Homes for their commitment to our community, Playworld Play equipment for their willingness to work within our budget, the residents of Songbird Canyon Court, Warbler Way, and Hummingbird Cove Court for putting up with the construction noise, the Melody Mountain Ranch Homeowner’s Board for doing what they do so well, and our Melody Mountain Ranch Youth Group for their hard work and superior attitude,” Frank said.

Will neared his side gate.

“I would especially like to mention and thank the organizer of today’s event and tonight’s not-to-be-missed Memorial Weekend kick-off, party hostess extraordinaire, Laney Estridge.”

Catcalls and applause rang thru the cul-de-sac.

“In watching this project evolve from an idea into today’s reality, I was struck by how much more there is to a beautiful playground than swings, a monkey bar, and in our lucky case, a half-basketball court and mini-skate park. When green space is to be transformed it must become even more beautiful. I think you will all agree that we’ve accomplished that goal.”

The applause grew more deafening.

“For that I would like to thank our fellow resident and landscape designer…”

Will took a deep breath and cracked open the gate.

“Hope Jordan.”

Will stopped.

“For your truly innovative ideas for blending environmental concerns with our needs as a growing community, I‘d like to ask you to stand next to me and do the honors.”

Frank handed Hope the scissors.

Will closed the gate and turned back for the house.

M
aryellen nibbled the corner of the most delicious, fudgy, chocolate-chip-filled, caramel-drizzled brownie she’d ever eaten.

Not counting the one she’d already devoured.

There had to be at least 400 calories of pure sugar, fat, and carbs floating through her system, but it wasn’t like she’d had time to eat much of anything else since her morning half-grapefruit. From the second she’d arrived at the playground pavilion, she’d been too busy accepting compliments on behalf of Frank, pouring champagne, and handing out slices of playground replica cake to take a bite herself. An afternoon’s worth of poolside streamer hanging and balloon tying left her starving, but she wasn’t about to have any of the greasy dim sum Laney arranged for the volunteers—she being the primary and most voracious volunteer of them all, at least where eating pot stickers was concerned. Once the casseroles, not-quite-homemade buckets of fried chicken, bread machine loaves, and bowls of fruit salad began to arrive, she had too much to do to sample anything. She managed to munch on a veggie or two while arranging various incarnations of Chinese chicken, Greek, and green salad around the stunning Mediterranean salmon salad she had every intention of making her dinner. Would have, had Laney not forgotten to buy enough of the reusable plates and plasticware she was also insistent be worked into the budget.

By the time Maryellen returned from an emergency trip to Safeway, the salmon salad, along with her second choice, a simple tossed romaine with feta and raspberry, had not only been polished off, but cleared away by the youth group.

How could she complain about not getting exactly what she wanted to eat when the teenagers seemed to be taking their job so seriously? Even Eva seemed blissful as she directed the others around.

A leader, just like Frank said.

After Eva’s initial fit of rage and Maryellen’s attempts to mollify her in the face of Frank’s
decision made
, Eva had been quiet. So quiet, ominous silence permeated the house in the same way that used to have Maryellen running to check on her toddler daughter to make sure she was just coloring and not on the walls.

Not tonight though. By agreeing with Eva that the kids deserved to be let off from cleanup duties by 8:45 so they could enjoy the party, there’d be no meltdown.

The word
meltdown
made her think of chocolate—and the dessert table, overflowing with all the pies, cookies, and cakes that had appeared, like magic, while she was at the store.

Maryellen broke her brownie, the best dessert of them all, and stuffed half in her mouth.

What damage could a couple of brownies really do anyway?

Meg Pierce-Cohn, who’d exited a dull-sounding conversation about environmental tax credits, appeared beside her and surveyed the array of offerings. “What do you recommend?”

“These brownies are to die for.” She handed one to Meg from the platter beside her before setting some on a plate for Frank, who’d undoubtedly been too busy basking in the blazing success of his day to eat enough to counterbalance however much he’d had to drink.

Which somehow reminded her of Will.

Before she could remind herself not to say anything, not to ask any questions about how he might be feeling, how he felt knowing the community was celebrating a playground he was against, she blurted, “Haven’t seen Will today.”

“He should be here soon.” Meg took a bite of brownie. “There’s so much to anticipate for a two-week trip that includes both a Disney cruise and the Everglades.”

“Can’t imagine,” Maryellen said, even as she pictured an alligator sidling silently across the smooth, silvery surface of the empty pool, stopping to train a menacing eye at her husband, whose hand rested on the center of Hope Jordan’s back. “Poor thing.”

“Excuse me?” Meg asked.

“Hope Jordan.” Maryellen shook her head. “Hasn’t been able to get pregnant and now she found out her husband’s going to be in and out of the country until the end of the year.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more frustrated than when I was trying to get pregnant with the twins.” Meg took another bite of brownie.

“Which is why I think he asked Hope to landscape the playgrounds in the first place.”

“Her husband?”

“Frank.” Maryellen said, stopping short of bringing the conversation back around to Will and how she was sure Frank asked Hope to do the landscaping to settle his grudge over the location controversy. He’d done nothing but obsess about the whole thing and Hope’s mental state since he spotted her signature on the petition. “Frank’s keeping an eye on her because the poor thing’s been drinking away her anguish all day.”

“Difficult situation,” Meg said.

“Very.” She finished her brownie.

“Well,” Meg finally said, turning in the direction of a conversation cluster by the retaining wall beside them. “You’ve done a nice job with all this.”

“Thanks,” Maryellen said, reveling in her first compliment of the day.

As Meg stepped away, Maryellen tidied the half-eaten platter by popping a stray crumb into her mouth. No one could say she didn’t deserve to savor the sweet melting chocolate on her tongue. The tea lights she’d strung along the security fence seemed to twinkle in agreement as she started across the pool deck toward the deep end, where Frank leaned casually against the diving board trying to make peace between Laney and Sarah, who’d been sniping at each other since the ribbon cutting.

Hope, his charge, stood directly beside him.

Other than wishing Frank didn’t feel such a strong need to stand beside someone other than her, Maryellen felt happier and more relaxed by the moment. She wedged in on the other side of her husband and offered the plate around. “Best brownies I’ve ever tasted.”

Frank picked the largest from the pile and took a big bite.

“I know, right,” Laney said, like one of the teenagers.

“I’m more into the lemon bars,” Sarah said.

“You’ll change your mind if you try one of these,” Laney said.

Maryellen coveted a large crumb clinging to the plate’s border.

“Already hit my dessert limit,” Sarah said.

“Your loss,” Laney winked and helped herself to yet another before turning back toward the dessert table.

Had she not been so busy sampling everything as it arrived, she might have realized sooner that they only had a small stack of disposable plates left over from last year’s party.

And no knives.

Maryellen pinched herself lightly for thinking what felt like free-flowing unpleasant thoughts. She offered the remaining brownie to Hope.

Hope held up her drink. “I’m good.”

“I’m good, too,” Frank said, grabbing the last one, splitting it in half and giving it to Hope. “But a little of this will only make you better.”

The photographer appeared and pointed his camera in Maryellen’s direction. “Can you scoot closer to the couple next to you? The three of you are so well-coordinated.”

“So funny,” Sarah said looking at Hope and Frank. “You guys really do all match.”

Maryellen laughed along, even though she didn’t find anything particularly funny about Hope’s blue, yellow, and red floral dress coordinating with her yellow top and jean skirt and matching Frank’s multistriped polo.

Frank put his arm around both her and Hope. “Have to immortalize this lucky moment.”

The photographer snapped the picture.

“Got a problem that may not be so lucky.” Larry Miller or Barry Stiller, she couldn’t pull up the name and Frank usually referred to him as Mr. Know-it-all, appeared as the photographer turned for his next subjects. “Borrow your rec center keys, Frank?”

“For?”

“I thought I’d take a peek into the mechanical room.”

“What’s up?”

“I notice there’s water pooling on the lower patio.”

Frank glanced out toward the lower level and back toward Hope. “Can’t it wait?”

“If it gets worse and someone drinks too much and slips…”

“Better go with you—restricted keys and all.” Before following whatever his name was, Frank whispered, “Mel, keep an eye on Hope.”

Maryellen nodded and watched him walk away.

Then she watched Hope head for the bar.

The next thing she knew she found herself headed back to the dessert table where Tim Trautman had materialized beside Laney.

“So the brownies are the ticket, you say?” he asked.

“Definitely.” Laney stood so close to him, her cleavage was practically touching his shoulder. “That is, as far as dessert goes.”

“I see.” He helped himself to a peek at her goodies while she leaned toward the now almost empty platter.

“They’re especially delicious,” she placed the last three squares on a napkin and handed it to him. “If you know what I mean.”

“Excellent,” he said, turning toward the bar. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

***

Tim removed the plastic tumbler Hope held in one hand and replaced the icy remnants of her drink with a fresh vodka and cranberry with a lime.

“Thanks,” she said. “How’d you know?”

“Exactly.” He grasped her free hand and began to lead her away from the pool area.

“Where are we going?” Her eyes twinkled with alcohol-fueled enthusiasm.