headed out to Hollin Hills.
The rain had returned sometime in the early morning hours, but that was fine with Adam. It suited his mood perfectly. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to get out and walk around. He just needed to cleanse his mental palate after yesterday’s calamity. He also thought it might be a good idea to get the lay of the land, so to speak, before he had his first official day of work on Monday. And that could easily be done from the dry comfort of his new car.
Six months ago, when he was still far away in Panama, he had been planning his return to Virginia, designing his future with what now seemed like idiotic arrogance. The job offer with Robert Davenport’s development company had fit neatly into his expectations. As he’d studied the Hollin Hills house and landscape blueprints that his future employer had sent him, Adam had pictured living there with Jenna and the many children they would have. He had seen himself staying with Davenport for years to come, helping to build the new wave of American homes.
Now he didn’t know what he was going to do. Stay on and watch Jenna marry Frank? Have to listen to his own son call another man “Father”? How was he supposed to bear that?
Last night’s pint of whiskey had provided him with neither smarts enough to answer those questions, nor guts enough to try. Of course, in the cold light of day, he called himself an idiot for turning to the bottle. The men in his family weren’t exactly known for being able to hold their liquor. What he had been hoping for was an alleviation of the melancholy that pooled bluely inside him. But all he got was an aching head to match his aching heart.
He drove across Memorial Bridge as he had the day before, but instead of going west to Arlington, he headed south down George Washington Parkway. It was a good drive to take when the soul needed soothing. The parkway followed the river, winding like a country lane, with the calming stretch of Potomac River to the east and wooded parkland to the west.
Spring rain in DC was an affable thing, a gentle sprinkling of water that soaks the ground for the thirsting flowers. Adam kept the window cracked so he could smell the fresh, wet air as it fell from the woolly clouds. He could feel his spirits begin to lift as the good clean dampness invaded his pores. The wipers smoothed the rain away from his new windshield with a soothing, familiar sound. By the time Adam reached the south side of Olde Towne, Alexandria, he was almost himself again.
He cut west to Fort Hunt Road, then turned south again. Following the directions he’d scribbled on a paper napkin, he turned right onto Paul Spring Road and up onto the winding roads of Hollin Hills.
The next hour was a blissful blur of order and chaos. How amazing it was to see those well-remembered plans come to life before his eyes. There was the solid, symmetrical structure of the houses — glass and stone, windows and doors, carports and patios. And there was the joyous bedlam of trees and bushes, grass and flowers.
He wound around happily, almost blindly, until at last he found himself on Windmeir Lane. That was the place he had really come to see. The road had been paved, but so far no houses had been built there. Construction had been on hiatus for the past few months, and the plan was for Adam to help get things started up again. But that wasn’t why he was here today.
He drove to the end of the lane, to the gentle cul-de-sac that would soon be home to three houses. He found the lot he was looking for, set the hand brake and got out of the car. It was still raining, but that was no longer important. Adam walked into the dripping woods, pacing the circumference of the lot. Then he returned to the road and stood still, looking around him.
Three months ago, Adam had bought this parcel of land. At the time, it was meant to have been an engagement present for Jenna. He thought that he would propose, she would accept, and he
The rain had returned sometime in the early morning hours, but that was fine with Adam. It suited his mood perfectly. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to get out and walk around. He just needed to cleanse his mental palate after yesterday’s calamity. He also thought it might be a good idea to get the lay of the land, so to speak, before he had his first official day of work on Monday. And that could easily be done from the dry comfort of his new car.
Six months ago, when he was still far away in Panama, he had been planning his return to Virginia, designing his future with what now seemed like idiotic arrogance. The job offer with Robert Davenport’s development company had fit neatly into his expectations. As he’d studied the Hollin Hills house and landscape blueprints that his future employer had sent him, Adam had pictured living there with Jenna and the many children they would have. He had seen himself staying with Davenport for years to come, helping to build the new wave of American homes.
Now he didn’t know what he was going to do. Stay on and watch Jenna marry Frank? Have to listen to his own son call another man “Father”? How was he supposed to bear that?
Last night’s pint of whiskey had provided him with neither smarts enough to answer those questions, nor guts enough to try. Of course, in the cold light of day, he called himself an idiot for turning to the bottle. The men in his family weren’t exactly known for being able to hold their liquor. What he had been hoping for was an alleviation of the melancholy that pooled bluely inside him. But all he got was an aching head to match his aching heart.
He drove across Memorial Bridge as he had the day before, but instead of going west to Arlington, he headed south down George Washington Parkway. It was a good drive to take when the soul needed soothing. The parkway followed the river, winding like a country lane, with the calming stretch of Potomac River to the east and wooded parkland to the west.
Spring rain in DC was an affable thing, a gentle sprinkling of water that soaks the ground for the thirsting flowers. Adam kept the window cracked so he could smell the fresh, wet air as it fell from the woolly clouds. He could feel his spirits begin to lift as the good clean dampness invaded his pores. The wipers smoothed the rain away from his new windshield with a soothing, familiar sound. By the time Adam reached the south side of Olde Towne, Alexandria, he was almost himself again.
He cut west to Fort Hunt Road, then turned south again. Following the directions he’d scribbled on a paper napkin, he turned right onto Paul Spring Road and up onto the winding roads of Hollin Hills.
The next hour was a blissful blur of order and chaos. How amazing it was to see those well-remembered plans come to life before his eyes. There was the solid, symmetrical structure of the houses — glass and stone, windows and doors, carports and patios. And there was the joyous bedlam of trees and bushes, grass and flowers.
He wound around happily, almost blindly, until at last he found himself on Windmeir Lane. That was the place he had really come to see. The road had been paved, but so far no houses had been built there. Construction had been on hiatus for the past few months, and the plan was for Adam to help get things started up again. But that wasn’t why he was here today.
He drove to the end of the lane, to the gentle cul-de-sac that would soon be home to three houses. He found the lot he was looking for, set the hand brake and got out of the car. It was still raining, but that was no longer important. Adam walked into the dripping woods, pacing the circumference of the lot. Then he returned to the road and stood still, looking around him.
Three months ago, Adam had bought this parcel of land. At the time, it was meant to have been an engagement present for Jenna. He thought that he would propose, she would accept, and he
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