Maureen accepted her glass gratefully, took a long sip. "I just saw a bunch of men a few lots up the street digging and clearing brush--"
"Oh, those are the guys who volunteered to help dig out the swimming pool and lay the foundation for the community center. Dex Richards is a contractor, and he's overseeing the project, whipping the rest of those couch potatoes into shape. I think even Frank's going to volunteer some time this weekend."
"We didn't even hear about it."
Audrey waved a dismissive hand. "That's because it's been going on so long that there aren't any formal communications to the membership anymore. The association doesn't want to embarrass itself by making promises it can't keep or deadlines it can't meet. But I think this time we might actually pull this thing off.Dex is a good contractor and he knows what he's doing. It'll probably be too late for this summer, but by next spring we should have a pool."
"What's this community center for?"
"Oh, you know. Block parties or birthday parties or youth group activities. Whatever. The association'll probably hold the annual meeting there. We've been holding it in the cafeteria over at Corban High. It'll be nice to have our own place." Audrey held up a finger.
"I'll be back in a sec. I'm just going to bring out the soup and salad."
She went inside, and Maureen stared into the trees. The world was quiet, despite an occasional bird cry and through the still air she could hear the sounds of the men up the street digging, pounding, chopping.
Audrey returned with the food, sat down, and they started eating, talking about the weather, their husbands, Maureen's job, things in general.
Maureen ate a bite of salad. "So, Kenny Tolkin was a con artist, huh?"
The other woman frowned. "What?"
"Frank told Barry that Kenny was living illegally in someone's house and scammed some people out of their money."
Audrey shook her head. "No," she said slowly. "It was his house. From what I understand, he was in arrears because he had not paid his association dues for the year. I think he was put on some type of probation but he skipped out. I don't know why. He could've worked it off. The association isn't completely inflexible." She smiled at Maureen. "Although they're pretty close."
They both laughed.
Audrey speared a tomato with her fork. "I suppose he'll put it up for sale eventually."
The soup and salad were delicious, as was the homemade rosemary bread that was brought out a few moments later after a timer in the kitchen rang. Audrey was quite a cook, and Maureen wished, not for the first time, that she was a little more domestic, that she'd taken some cooking classes or, at the very least, listened more to her mother while growing up. It was not too late, though, and with her new resolve to have more free time, she thought she could probably find the time to sign up for some courses, providing Corban had some type of adult ed program.
"So what do you think about the pamphlet?" Audrey asked.
Maureen frowned. "Pamphlet?"
"The sexual harassment pamphlet. Don't tell me you didn't get one?"
"No."
Audrey laughed. "Well, you're in for a treat. Our old friends at the association are now laying down policy about sexual liaisons between homeowners." She shook her head, chuckled. "Not that it'll stop anything."
Maureen raised an eyebrow. "Anything you want to tell me?"
"No, no, nothing like that."
"Do you have a copy of the pamphlet? I'd like to see it."
"I think Frank tossed it, but I'll see."
She couldn't find the pamphlet, but she did come back with twin bowls of peach sorbet, and they ate dessert and talked about the prudery that seemed to have overtaken the world since their teenage years.
Afterward, Maureen offered to stay and help clean up, but Audrey shooed her off. "Get out of here."
"Next time it's at my place."
"Are you expecting me to help with your dishes?"
"Of course not."
"I'll be there."
Maureen walked slowly back up the street toward home. She looked again at the shirtless workers as she passed by the pool site and for some reason was reminded of Kenny Tolkin. Why, she wondered, had he ran away? Because he was behind in paying his dues? It was a bizarre and unbelievable reaction, and the idea didn't sit well with her. People only ran when they were afraid, and she thought of the mysterious appearance of the new gate as well as everything else that had happened, and despite the heat of the day she felt cold. There was no mail in the box when she checked, but there was a glossy pamphlet. Sure enough, it was titled Bonita Vista Sexual Harassment Guidelines, and she opened it as she walked up the driveway, her eye immediately drawn to the subheading "Love Can Wait."
Wait for what?
She glanced down at the bulleted paragraphs.
Sexual relationships between neighbors are very seldom secret. Others will be watching and judging your behavior, which could lead to disharmony in the community.
Relationships may end and leave one or both of the individuals with bitter feelings. If this happens, there will be uncomfortable and awkward social situations as well as the possibility for retaliation by one or both parties.
Sex between neighbors, even consensual sex, is considered unprofessional and inappropriate behavior. While there are no current regulations prohibiting such conduct, rules are being drafted and will be put to a vote at the annual meeting in September.
Maureen frowned. There was nothing actually in here about sexual harassment. Like Audrey said, this was simply an unwarranted intrusion into people's personal lives. Not only was the homeowners' association driving off individuals who didn't pay their dues on time, it was also trying to dictate people's sex partners. What was next? Requiring association approval before performing certain sexual acts and positions? This was an audacious and unbelievable invasion of privacy, and she found it both ridiculous and horrifying.
She walked into the house. A small petty part of her considered throwing the pamphlet away, not showing it to Barry, not telling him about it. It was difficult enough to be proved wrong about something without having your face rubbed in it. But this was too egregious to be swept under the rug. Barry and Ray had been right about the association all along, and while the regulations outlined in the pamphlet didn't affect her, the next edict might, and she found herself wondering what the association could possibly try to prohibit next.
He was writing again.
Whatever it was that had caused his temporary block J was gone, and Barry was grateful. He did not try to analyze it, did not look at it too carefully or think about it overmuch. He was not one to question the whys and wherefores; he simply accepted it when things went well and hoped they continued that way.
He stopped typing, flexed his fingers, and read over the paragraph he'd just finished.
The thought crossed his mind that he'd been corrupted by Hollywood. It sounded melodramatic and probably seemed ludicrous on the face of it, but the truth was that he'd been thinking of filmic possibilities for this new novel even as he was writing it. Always before, plot and characters had served only the story, with real-life considerations having no say in the outcome. But ever since his near brush with movie success, he'd found himself casting this novel, trying to figure out the actor or actress best suited for each character. He'd also been unusually aware of visual elements in the story, things that would look good on the screen.
Was this influencing the work itself?
He didn't think so, but he wasn't sure, and the possibility worried him.
Still, things were sailing along. He'd finished twelve pages this morning alone, and he saved what he'd written, turned off the computer, and stood, stretching. It was lunchtime, a little later than usual, actually, and he closed up his office and walked across the field to the coffee shop to grab some grub.