The Big Bang Read Online Free

space in the ideal kid neighborhood waiting for Jim’s travel schedule to die down enough to start filling it with children. She hadn’t grown her business much beyond holiday decor, flowerbed design, and the occasional room redo so she could slip seamlessly into the role of mother. In fact, she’d spent the better part of yet another year patiently trying every guaranteed how-to pregnancy hint.
    And still, nothing.
    “I always thought I’d have three children by now.”
    “Hope, there’s nothing medically to suggest you won’t.”
    Tears dripped down her cheeks as fast as she could wipe them away. Despite a negative home pee-on-a-stick test, three actually, she was two days late with both breast sensitivity and, she could swear, slight morning sickness. “I really thought I was pregnant this time.”
    The bleeding started on the drive over.
    “You’ve possibly suffered what’s known as a chemical pregnancy. If so, it bodes even better for your chances of a successful future pregnancy.”
    Question was, how far into the future?
    “You’ve been at this for, what, eight months?”
    “Nine.” The irony only intensified the cramping. “And I’ve tried everything from wild yams to Chinese herbs to cough syrup.”
    The doctor shook his head. “None of the old wives’ tales work as well as relaxing about the whole process.”
    Endless sessions with her therapist, the acupuncturist, and Reverend Frank were supposed to have covered that base. “Jim doesn’t know if he’s willing to go the artificial insemination, much less the in vitro, route, but I’m starting to worry we’ll have to and—”
    “Hope, you’ve only been on fertility meds for one cycle.”
    “One unsuccessful cycle.”
    “Forty to sixty percent of patients conceive on Clomid within six months.” He jotted on his prescription pad, tore off the top sheet, and handed it to her. “A month and a refill.”
    “Meaning you think I’ll be pregnant by the beginning of summer?”
    He patted her knee. “Meaning you’re still a long way off from considering yourself a failure.”

CHAPTER THREE
    Melody Mountain Ranch Rules and Regulations: Section 4. Board of Directors: The Board of Directors shall have the powers and duties necessary for the operation and maintenance
of a first-class community.
    F rank Griffin rapped his gavel on the podium. “Let the April meeting of the Melody Mountain Ranch Homeowner’s Board come to order.”
    As residents found seats and board members filed toward chairs he’d arranged in an arc, a là city council meetings he’d seen on the public access channel, Frank eyed the gold inscription plate on his prized wormwood mallet:
Exercise Influence through Higher Power. Presented to Judge Mortimer Callahan for Twenty-Five Years of Devoted Service.
    Of all the yard sale gems Maryellen had found, none felt as divinely inspired as this treasure she’d uncovered for him in a widow’s garage. If not for The Calling, and a dozen successful years in pharmaceutical sales, he’d have made an excellent judge.
    Or so he’d been told.
    The rec center multipurpose room was filled to capacity. Apparently, his Sunday sermon on paths to finding the Lord through community had resonated through the Melody Rancher rank and file. “I want to thank you all for coming this evening.”
    He made eye contact around the room, stopping to smile in the direction of his new neighbor, Tim Trautman. According to Laney Estridge, Trautman’s previous HOB experience made him a good candidate for the next open position.
    Will Pierce-Cohn’s position.
    Even with the comeuppance of his failed presidential bid, P-C took on Covenant Violations chair, as far as Frank could tell, to disrupt the monthly meeting with a heartfelt plea for banning ice cream trucks, reexamining approved air conditioning systems in light of global warming, or whatever pointless issue was stuck in his unemployed, took-his-wife’s-name-with-a-hyphen, Jewish-liberal,