The Quickie - James Patterson [57]
“Exactly,” he said. “This is what it sounds like when there are no jackhammers or bus engines or raving homeless people. I’ve read about this somewhere. It’s called peace and quiet, I think.”
“What are those grayish-looking things alongside the road — with that green stuff on top?” I said, squinting out my window.
“Those are called trees,” Paul said. “They talk about them in the brochure. They come with the house — if you upgrade the cabinets.”
Paul restarted the car and continued on to the top of the hill, where he stopped again so I could see all the houses in our neighborhood. They were beautiful, what else? New England–style colonials, maybe a half dozen of them, well spaced and landscaped down a rolling valley.
“Okay,” I said, “what’s the downside? Where’s the catch? We’re right in the landing path of an airport?”
“Sorry,” Paul said as we began making our way back down the hill. “Greenridge has an ordinance against downsides. Besides, we’ve had enough downsides to last a couple of lifetimes.”
Paul didn’t know the half of it.
Chapter 82
WE PASSED AN ENORMOUS PLAYGROUND, tennis courts, a manicured baseball field. I looked out at the precisely laid, brand-new white lines. Yep, it looked like a real neighborhood. Leave It to Beaver’s maybe. My head continued to spin.
The sun was almost completely gone when we stopped in front of a large house beside a park with a stream.
“What’s this? The sales office?” I said.
Paul shook his head. He took out a key.
“It’s the clubhouse,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll show you the lay of the land.”
Inside were conference rooms, several flat-screen TVs, a well-stocked weight room. Fliers on the bulletin board touted babysitting and block parties. There was a sign-up sheet for something called a progressive dinner at one-fifty a head.
“And they’re putting in a pool in the spring,” Paul said, plopping down on a leather couch in the vaulted lobby space.
“How can . . . ,” I started. “Even with your raise, this seems . . .”
“The houses are expensive, but it’s pretty far from the city, so it’s less than you think. My new salary will cover us and then some. You want to see our house? At least it will be ours — if you love it as much as I do.”
I put up my hand.
“Just give me a second to pick up my jaw first.”
There was a halo of last light over the western hills as we pulled off the paved drive onto a dirt road that was still under construction. We crawled slowly past mounds of broken rock and heavy machinery.
“I need to take it slow,” Paul said. “There are nails and bolts scattered around from the construction. Don’t want to get a flat. Wait, we’re here.”
The dove-gray house Paul pulled in front of was . . . well, perfect. I took in the front porch, the soaring brick chimney, the graceful dormers on the third floor. Wait a second — there was a third floor? Everything looked done except the landscaping, which I was quite certain would be wonder-ful, too.
“C’mon,” Paul said. “I’ll show you the master suite.”
“Are we allowed to be here? Don’t we have to wait until the closing? Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” Paul said with a laugh. “I’ll leave the headlights on so we can see where we’re going.”
We walked over the mounded dirt, and Paul opened the unlocked front door. Suddenly he threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and pretended to trip as he brought me across the threshold. Our laughter and footsteps echoed off the gleaming hardwood floors. “I love it already,” I whispered. “I really love it, Paul.”
Paul showed me where everything would be. I could hardly take in the airplane hangar–size kitchen, my eyes darting from maple to granite to stainless steel. Even in the dark, the tree-covered hills out the windows were breathtaking.
“And this is where the nursery could go,” Paul said, hugging me in one of the upstairs rooms.
Outside the “nursery” window, stars were twinkling like diamond dust in the midnight-blue sky just above the dark treetops. My tears started flowing then. It was suddenly real. Our baby would grow up in this room. I saw myself holding a sweet-smelling,