Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
A week later, the roofers were there with an entire crew of people, and they covered everything outside, near the front porch and the back deck, but as I’d made arrangements to work from home, I was making note of my trees and what got caught in them and what flowers were trampled. Surprisingly, flora is far more resilient than I gave it credit for, and everything popped back up once it wasn’t being walked over. I explained going in that if they hurt my hydrangeas, that had been planted when we moved in, that heads would roll. I explained that to Ted and made sure he understood they were my husband’s favorites. Amazingly, they came through unscathed. I will tell you that I will hear the boom-boom-boom, tack-tack-tack of the shingles being banged down on the roof and the nail gun for at least another month. It ate my brain. But they were very nice and brought down a teddy bear—a fiberglass one—to me that apparently the guys we paid to put up the Christmas stuff had missed. Normally, it hung off the back of Santa’s sleigh and needed to be attached better down the road. I’d heard the scream and ran outside.
“Everybody okay?”
“Yeah,” one of the guys told me as he pointed at the four-foot bear with a red-and-white hat on and green bow that was now sitting on my front porch. “Julio didn’t expect to see anything up there, and it freaked him out.”
I didn’t laugh. It was hard, but I didn’t. I just pointed out the cooler I’d put in the shade for them, filled with ice and bottles of water. They appreciated that.
The day after the roof went up, I got a letter from the HOA that said I had not filed an application for an exterior modification and that the roof might have to come off.
My brain exploded.
It was a roof. Why did I need to tell the HOA that my house needed a new roof?
“Because Oak Park doesn’t want us to put in a checkerboard square roof of, like, lime green and neon yellow,” Sam said, chuckling as he fed Dobby and Chilly. “Or even that Deep Sea Blue. God, I can’t even imagine a blue roof.”
“But now they’re going to fine us and––”
“No,” he told me, leaning sideways to kiss my temple. “I sent that in, no worries. I’ll call Mrs. Sutcliffe tomorrow morning and remind her that I have an email from her that gave us approval. I think she just forgot.”
“It’s because she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, she just finds you exuberant.”
“What?”
“Exuberant,” he repeated.
“The hell does that mean?” I yelled.
“I think it means you have a lot of energy and you’re vocal.”
“Vocal,” I snapped at him. “You mean loud.”
“I like that you’re loud,” he teased, leaning again to kiss the side of my neck. “I especially like that you’re loud in––”
“Hello!”
Turning toward the back door, there was my son walking into my kitchen.
“My baby!” I squealed and ran to him, and he dropped two duffels and a backpack and caught me in his arms.
I was so happy. The waterworks began right then. I hugged him so tight, and Sam was hugging Jake, who had followed Kola into the house. Then we switched, and I had Jake while Sam wrapped our son up and held him tight. Both their faces showed such contentment, I can’t even tell you.
“We would have picked you both up,” I told them as they walked to the refrigerator and opened the door to survey our food situation.
“Harper get home okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, he just texted me, and we cabbed it ’cause we wanted to surprise you guys,” Kola said distractedly, all his focus on what was and wasn’t in the fridge. “There better be more than a salad in here.”
“We can order pizza,” I suggested. “Or I can make meatloaf.”
They both turned to me with hopeful expressions on their faces.
“Meatloaf it is,” I said, smiling. “I’ll make mashed potatoes and green beans as well.”
“I can help with the potatoes,” Jake offered.
“No,” Kola said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
“What? C’mon, I have potatoes down to a science.”
“No,” Kola repeated, shaking his head. “You really, really don’t.”
“What?” Jake said, clearly affronted. “You said I made great microwave potatoes and––”
“Clearly, you have me confused with someone else,” he stated. “And you can peel the potatoes, but that’s where your help ends.”
Jake threw up his hands, grabbed his stuff, and started walking into the living room toward the stairs. “You know, I seem to recall someone saying I nuke a mean burrito.”
“I think that was all in your head, buddy,” Kola called after him, leaning down to start picking up his duffels. “The rest of the stuff should be showing up on Thursday. I figured we’d put it in the basement until we find a place.”