Ridge.
Cleverly constructed, the front and back walls of each unit were staggered to insure that next-door neighbors wouldn’t invade one another’s privacy every time they looked outside. Built of red brick for low maintenance, the eight completed dwellings had uniquely distinguishing touches, thanks to the architect’s innovative wrought-iron designs and the painting crew’s use of different but complementary colors on doors and wood trim.
In order to reduce land costs there were no front lawns to speak of. From inside the house, however, she saw that the rear picture window overlooked a large backyard which could be shared and maintained by all the residents of a particular cluster.
This project represented so many important things, she realized. A new era in home ownership for millions of people. A lofty goal that Luke had set when he’d had nothing but a hatful of debts and a headful of dreams. A genuine achievement on his part.
“Well, what do you think?” He repeated his original question when he joined her at the window.
“I think it’s remarkable,” she replied honestly.
He wrapped his arm around her waist in mute gratitude.
“Seeing this,” she whispered, “reminds me of an industrious little boy who built a tree house from scrap lumber.”
“As I recall, he had a pig-tailed gofer who didn’t know a drawshave from a bread knife.” He gathered her against his chest, locking his hands around her middle. “I wonder whatever became of those two crazy kids?”
Bonnie felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and was helpless to stop them. Ducking her head, she moved out of his arms and fumbled ineffectually through her purse for a tissue. Luke took a folded handkerchief from his pocket, and she used it to wipe her eyes, removing most of her carefully applied makeup in the process.
“Do I look like a raccoon?” She raised her face to him.
“A little bit from the front.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “But I’d have to see your ringtail to be certain.”
“Lunchtime!” Darlene announced cheerfully.
Bonnie repaired her makeup in the bathroom before joining the others.
“This is the best I can do since you need to keep the dining room table at home for the reception.” Darlene had set their plates of sandwiches and cookies on tray tables in the living room. “Luke said that he’d move the table for us sometime next week.”
Next week. Bonnie fought the threat of more tears. She’d almost forgotten that she was loving on borrowed time. Next week, she’d be back in business making bag lunches for a picnic benefit in Central Park, basting hams and baking biscuits for a museum opening on Fifth Avenue and eating her heart out for what might have been if she and Luke had only handled their problems more maturely seven years ago.
“What do you think of our Waterford chandelier?” Darlene asked. “Luke ordered it scaled to size so it wouldn’t overwhelm the room.
Giving herself a brisk mental shake, Bonnie admired the exquisite fixture hanging like a crystal dewdrop from the ceiling. After they ate, Luke telephoned his office while Darlene and Dave took her on a guided tour of their new home.
The house was compact, yet the ingenious use of mirrors and skylights added the illusion of depth and space. Interior walls were shared, an energy-saving technique, but the architect had made certain that the front and back walls had large windows offering good light exposure and wonderful views of the surrounding landscape.
“Luke claims that traditional homes for the average-income family have disappeared with the quarter hamburger,” Dave said when they went upstairs to look around.
In the bathroom, Darlene pointed out the corner which had been reserved for their sunken marble tub. “Luke says that just because we’re living efficiently it doesn’t mean we can’t also live elegantly.”
When they came downstairs, Luke was nowhere to be seen inside the house. They went outdoors and
Cleverly constructed, the front and back walls of each unit were staggered to insure that next-door neighbors wouldn’t invade one another’s privacy every time they looked outside. Built of red brick for low maintenance, the eight completed dwellings had uniquely distinguishing touches, thanks to the architect’s innovative wrought-iron designs and the painting crew’s use of different but complementary colors on doors and wood trim.
In order to reduce land costs there were no front lawns to speak of. From inside the house, however, she saw that the rear picture window overlooked a large backyard which could be shared and maintained by all the residents of a particular cluster.
This project represented so many important things, she realized. A new era in home ownership for millions of people. A lofty goal that Luke had set when he’d had nothing but a hatful of debts and a headful of dreams. A genuine achievement on his part.
“Well, what do you think?” He repeated his original question when he joined her at the window.
“I think it’s remarkable,” she replied honestly.
He wrapped his arm around her waist in mute gratitude.
“Seeing this,” she whispered, “reminds me of an industrious little boy who built a tree house from scrap lumber.”
“As I recall, he had a pig-tailed gofer who didn’t know a drawshave from a bread knife.” He gathered her against his chest, locking his hands around her middle. “I wonder whatever became of those two crazy kids?”
Bonnie felt the tears rolling down her cheeks and was helpless to stop them. Ducking her head, she moved out of his arms and fumbled ineffectually through her purse for a tissue. Luke took a folded handkerchief from his pocket, and she used it to wipe her eyes, removing most of her carefully applied makeup in the process.
“Do I look like a raccoon?” She raised her face to him.
“A little bit from the front.” He dropped a kiss on her hair. “But I’d have to see your ringtail to be certain.”
“Lunchtime!” Darlene announced cheerfully.
Bonnie repaired her makeup in the bathroom before joining the others.
“This is the best I can do since you need to keep the dining room table at home for the reception.” Darlene had set their plates of sandwiches and cookies on tray tables in the living room. “Luke said that he’d move the table for us sometime next week.”
Next week. Bonnie fought the threat of more tears. She’d almost forgotten that she was loving on borrowed time. Next week, she’d be back in business making bag lunches for a picnic benefit in Central Park, basting hams and baking biscuits for a museum opening on Fifth Avenue and eating her heart out for what might have been if she and Luke had only handled their problems more maturely seven years ago.
“What do you think of our Waterford chandelier?” Darlene asked. “Luke ordered it scaled to size so it wouldn’t overwhelm the room.
Giving herself a brisk mental shake, Bonnie admired the exquisite fixture hanging like a crystal dewdrop from the ceiling. After they ate, Luke telephoned his office while Darlene and Dave took her on a guided tour of their new home.
The house was compact, yet the ingenious use of mirrors and skylights added the illusion of depth and space. Interior walls were shared, an energy-saving technique, but the architect had made certain that the front and back walls had large windows offering good light exposure and wonderful views of the surrounding landscape.
“Luke claims that traditional homes for the average-income family have disappeared with the quarter hamburger,” Dave said when they went upstairs to look around.
In the bathroom, Darlene pointed out the corner which had been reserved for their sunken marble tub. “Luke says that just because we’re living efficiently it doesn’t mean we can’t also live elegantly.”
When they came downstairs, Luke was nowhere to be seen inside the house. They went outdoors and
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