Tiny House in the Trees

by Celia Bonaduce

“I better get working on those cones,” Molly said. “Are there any gloves around?”

  “You got me,” Quinn said, shrugging.

  Molly wondered how Quinn kept the farm going. He really didn’t seem to have much of a handle on things.

  “You up for lunch, since you stood me up for breakfast?” Quinn asked.

  “I wish I could,” Molly said—and she meant it. “But I need to go to the gym.”

  “Why? You look great to me.”

  Molly had a hard time with Quinn’s sideways compliments. But, two could play at that game.

  “If anybody knows the value of the gym, it’s you,” she said, blushing to the roots of her hair.

  “Maybe we could go work out together.”

  There was no way she could tell Quinn she needed to get to the gym in order to take a very badly needed shower. That confession would kill this flirtation in its tracks. She wondered if she could do a step class with Quinn and then take a shower. She pretended to stretch and quickly sniffed her armpits.

  Nope! She needed to hit the shower now.

  “I’m meeting…”

  Who could she be meeting?

  She thought and thought.

  “I’m meeting Bale,” she said triumphantly.

  “Sorry to tell you this,” Quinn said. “But Bale is going to stand you up.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I was flying this morning, I saw a caravan of tiny houses taking off and about an hour later, the school bus leaving the lot. Isn’t that the secret signal that Bale is off to another convention of crazy tiny house zealots?”

  “That’s a bit harsh.”

  Quinn shrugged. Molly found it disconcerting that Quinn didn’t seem to understand anyone’s passions but his own.

  Molly was shaken that she didn’t know Bale had left. Why hadn’t he called?

  She slyly snuck a peek at her phone. No messages. How could Bale just disappear without a word? Were they on the outs? Was this about that Violet person?

  “So what do you say?” Quinn asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “About what?” Molly asked, knowing instinctively he wasn’t interested in Bale taking off without a goodbye.

  “Lunch or the gym?”

  Why did her life have to be some complicated? If this were last week, when she had her apartment, Galileo was secure, her car was running, and Bale was still her friend, the thought of having to choose between lunch or a workout with Quinn would have been the stuff of dreams. Now it was just one more thing to stress about. She needed to shower anyway, she decided.

  “The gym,” she said, knowing the shower could not wait another day. She thought if she checked on Galileo before she left and after she returned, he’d only be alone for a couple of hours. “But I can’t be gone long. Those cones aren’t going to gather themselves.”

  “It’s only June. The cones are just getting started,” Quinn said, looking at his watch. “Okay, see you in two hours? We can stop at your place and you can pick up your gym gear.”

  Was Quinn coming on to her? Molly envisioned herself letting Quinn into her apartment and him pulling her toward him for a passionate kiss before she even got the door closed. She felt another tweak from the irony fairy as she remembered there was no apartment anymore.

  At least she would be spared Galileo saying, “I love you, Quinn,” at an inopportune moment.

  “I’ve got my gym stuff in the trunk of my car,” Molly said, not untruthfully. “Well, the trunk of my loaner car.”

  “You have a loaner?” Quinn asked.

  Molly brightened. She couldn’t tell him everything, but she was happy to share at least part of her story with Quinn.

  “Yes,” Molly said. “It was terrible! I was—”

  She was interrupted by Quinn’s cell phone buzzing. He put his finger up for Molly to wait. He answered the phone.

  “Hey, doll,” he purred into the phone. “Oh, you know, workin’ hard, hardly workin’.”

  Molly could hear tittering on the other end of the line. She felt superior for a few heady seconds, before she remembered she’d done some tittering of her own since becoming Quinn’s employee. She looked at Quinn, who was trying to get her attention. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw him push the mute button on the phone.

  “I’ll see you in a couple hours,” he said to Molly with a wink. He unmuted his phone and walked to his desk, listening to the chatter on the other end of the call.

  “See ya,” Molly said.

  Not only did she now have a place to live and get to see Quinn every day, Molly also loved working on the farm. There were animals and birds everywhere, using the trees for shelter and food. While she knew this would all change in late October, when the trees became big business, it was wonderful to work alongside all the different creatures. It made her feel less weird about calling a tree her home.

  She made her way back to the tree fort. As she climbed the ladder, she could hear many different kinds of birds singing. She couldn’t wait for the day she felt comfortable enough to let Galileo stay outside his cage, so he could commune with his fellow feathered friends. It occurred to her the Kentucky birds probably had never met anything like Galileo. Molly was optimistic by nature, but it was a stretch to hope Galileo would behave himself. He really was one rude bird.

  Molly slipped the sheet off Galileo’s cage and peered in. He didn’t look at her. Back to the silent treatment, it seemed. Molly knew better than to plead with him. Galileo’s moods would probably come and go until he accepted their life here as normal. On one hand, Molly loved the idea of staying in the tree forever. Everything she’d ever heard Bale’s customers say about living tiny—lack of financial pressure, a more simplified existence, living more closely with nature—was realized in the tree fort. While tiny-house living wasn’t for everyone, she figured tree-fort living was for even fewer. But she had no complaints. Luckily, Galileo didn’t get a vote.

  It might be another story once winter came. She’d have her thesis done in November. The weather usually started to turn in October, but it was possible, if the weather held, she might be able to stay put until then. Armed with her master’s, she’d be able to get a real job.

  She looked out over the treetops, the river, and the town. Right now, she couldn’t imagine a better job. Her miniature tree house caught the sun, bringing her back to reality. She watched how the shadows of the pine needles played over the various levels of the house. She hadn’t considered how much the movement of the sun could impact the design. Watching the tiny bedroom plunge into shadow had Molly redesigning the floor plan in a few quick sketches in her notebook before she put fresh vegetables in Galileo’s cage, covered him back up (sometimes she was grateful for the silent treatment), and scrambled down the ladder to her car. She popped the trunk, grabbed her gym bag, and ran to the office.

  Quinn was waiting inside, leaning against the office wall, looking down at his phone. Molly wondered if he had any idea how amazing he looked in his gym shorts and tight black tank top. He looked up as she approached.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said.

  “Hey…” Molly tried to think of something to say.

  Hey, hottie? Hey, sexy? Hey, stud?

  She cringed just thinking about saying “Hey, stud.” He was her boss after all.

  “Hey, Quinn,” she finally said.

  “Want me to drive?” Quinn asked.

  “Sure,” Molly said.

  As they walked to Quinn’s truck, they passed Molly’s car. She thought about returning to her story about her loaner, but she sensed Quinn wasn’t really into car troubles. Which was good. Molly needed to forget her troubles, not dwell on them.

  Molly looked over at Quinn as he opened the door for her. She hopped into the truck and watched Quinn jog over to the driver’s side. He glanced over at her and smiled
one of his killer smiles.

  Quinn was the perfect antidote. Period.

  It was always too loud when they were flying in Old Paint to really talk. Molly was worried she might not be able to think of anything to say as they drove the seven minutes to the gym. She didn’t need to worry. Quinn was singing along to a very loud AC/DC song, pumping his fist and smacking the dashboard.

  “I love this music,” Quinn called over the song. “I need to get pumped for my workout.”

  “Me, too,” Molly yelled back, trying to get in the spirit.

  She extended her head back and forth like a turtle coming in and out of its shell and bit down on her lower lip, rock star style. She caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror.

  You look like an idiot.

  Quinn pulled into the gym parking lot and shut off the ignition.

  “Are you so hyped?” Quinn asked.

  “I sure am,” Molly replied enthusiastically, although she had no idea to what she was agreeing.

  “Cool. Let’s do this.”

  He jumped out of the truck, shadow-boxing as he waited for Molly to grab her gym bag. Quinn punched and jabbed at the air as they climbed the stairs, shoulder muscles rippling seductively. Molly dabbed at her forehead. If her body experienced half the workout her hormones were getting, this would be an effective day at the gym.

  “Hey, Quinn,” a soothing southern accent greeted them at the door.

  It was Matt, one of the personal trainers. Molly couldn’t help but notice Matt’s biceps were every bit as impressive as Quinn’s. But Matt was significantly younger—too young for Molly.

  Molly wondered, not for the first time, When did any guy get too young for me?

  “This is Molly,” Quinn said.

  Molly was about to tell Quinn he didn’t need to introduce them. Molly had been a member of the gym, off and on, when she could afford it, since she moved to Cobb. She’d seen Matt many times over the years.

  “Nice to meet you, Molly,” Matt said.

  Molly smiled and shook his hand. It was easier to think of Matt as too young for her rather than her being too old for him.

  “Ready to get this party started?” Quinn asked Matt.

  “Free weights?” Matt replied.

  “Free f-ing weights!” Quinn said.

  They seemed to have forgotten about Molly.

  “See you in an hour?” Molly squeaked, afraid she might pierce the testosterone balloon being blown up around her.

  “Sure,” Quinn said.

  She watched the two men walk to the free weight room, chatting animatedly. As Matt opened the door to the room, Molly heard more thumping rock and roll before the door closed and the rest of the gym went silent. She watched as Quinn high-fived other muscular men. Quinn was definitely a man’s man, comfortable in a helicopter or gym or at a poker table. She wondered how she might fit into his world.

  Although her entire goal was to wash up, Molly decided she might as well do the treadmill. She did have an hour to kill. Even in her rank condition, she’d only need twenty minutes to shower. Plus, a half hour running/jogging/sweating would give her that healthy post-gym glow that Quinn was sure to recognize and appreciate. They could compare workout notes on their way back to the tree farm. And she might just tone up a bit.

  It was a win-win.

  Molly quickly changed into her gym gear, slung a small towel over her shoulder, and waited for the next treadmill to become available. Molly was surprised how busy the gym was on a weekday. For such a small town, there was certainly a lot of physical fitness going down. Molly watched a woman’s athletic green spandex-clad butt bob up and down as she ran full bore on the treadmill. Molly was impressed. She knew she’d never be able to keep up such a pace. The woman slowed to a walk, then shut off the treadmill before turning around and leaping gracefully off. Molly was shocked to see it was Geraldine Murphy, one of the old guard from Crabby’s. Emphasis on the Old. How could a seventy-year-old have such a muscular bum?

  “Molly!” Geraldine exclaimed. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Molly tried to hold in her stomach under her baggy T-shirt. It was an unspoken gym law that those in shape wore spandex and those…like Molly…wore shorts and tees.

  “I’m here with Quinn,” Molly said.

  This announcement might not have astounded Geraldine, but it certainly impressed Molly.

  “Oh, I’ve heard the rumors,” Geraldine leaned in and squeezed Molly’s less-than-firm-forearm.

  Was the whole town talking about her and Quinn? This was exciting news. Molly’s insides quivered, but she kept her voice under control.

  “What rumors?”

  “That Bale met a gorgeous woman his own age and you’ve rebounded with the tree farmer.”

  Molly could feel her jaw drop and couldn’t seem to command the synapses in her brain to shut it.

  “Bale hasn’t met a woman his own age!” Molly said, surprised this was the part of the story she felt compelled to clarify. “You mean the woman in the purple truck? She’s a client.”

  “Maybe,” Geraldine said. “But I was having lunch at the pizza place…I was just having a salad…and I saw the two of them. She didn’t look like ‘just a client’ to me.”

  Molly wondered if Geraldine was hearing rumors or spreading them.

  “I better get on that treadmill before I lose it to somebody else,” Molly said, having lost all interest in the rumor mill.

  Molly jumped on the treadmill and roughly shoved in her earbuds. She tapped the music icon on her phone, looking for something to motivate her. She settled on “Harlem Shake” and angrily set the treadmill control to go rapidly up and down hills. She pictured herself looking as graceful as a fox outrunning the hounds. She took off, her calf muscles remembering the rhythm of long-ago workouts. Why would anyone in town think Bale had thrown her over? She and Bale had never been more than friends. And no one seemed to see her conquest of Quinn as anything to write home about, either.

  Small towns!

  After thirty seconds, her anger spent, she felt herself getting breathless. Instead of the nimble fox, she worried she looked more like a three-toed sloth who’d already had dinner.

  Her heartbeat slowed as she walked at a more realistic pace. Her good humor was returning as well. Maybe a workout with Quinn every few days wouldn’t be a bad idea. It occurred to her that a workout would be a perfect cover for showering at the gym.

  She smiled at her own ridiculous subterfuge.

  She was still smiling when she noticed a changing of the guard on the treadmill to her right. The smile froze on her face as Professor Cambridge, clad in a bright blue tracksuit, grabbed the handles and pulled himself into position. Molly faced straight ahead, hoping the professor wouldn’t notice her. Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the control setting to “off.” But in her haste, she hit “incline.” The machine thrummed with excitement, the rubber conveyor belt under her feet tripling its speed. Concerned that Professor Cambridge would witness her failure should she fall, Molly powered through the run. She finally managed a cool down and the treadmill whirred to a stop. She felt she’d run the Appalachian Trail. Professor Cambridge continued to look straight ahead, planting one foot determinedly in front of the other. Molly stood for a moment, afraid to try her legs for a dismount. With her hands firmly on the handles of the machine, Molly took one step and then the other off the treadmill.

  She was safe.

  And now she could really use that shower!

  Without looking at the professor, Molly headed toward the locker room.

  “How goes your little thesis, Ms. McGinnis?” she heard the professor intone.

  She turned back to the treadmills. Professor Cambridge didn’t turn around and continued to tread.

  “It’s going well,” Molly said to his back.

  “Tha
t’s good to hear,” Professor Cambridge said. “Higher education is a terrible thing to waste on frivolity, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Chapter 18

  Renew

  Celebrate

  Observe

  Molly woke the next morning with her affirmation words already formed. She grabbed a pen and wrote the words before they went the way of dreams. She put the pen back in her purse and lay listening to the sound of birds singing. At first she thought it was Galileo, but she eyed the shrouded cage and all was silent there. Struggling from the pool float, she padded to the door of the lean-to and put her ear to the door. It seemed as if the birds were right outside. Opening the door, she saw the birds fly from the platform, soaring into the sky. She was sorry they saw her as an intruder, but asking to be accepted after only two days in the tree seemed too much to ask. Of course, what she really wanted was for the other birds to accept Galileo. She felt like the parent of the awkward kid when they moved into a new neighborhood. She knew it was not going to be an easy road. It made her heart hurt.

  She heard Old Paint flying overhead. She instinctively reached out to wave but caught herself and tucked back among the fir needles. As much as she wanted a Snow White moment communing with the animals of the tree farm, she did not want to be discovered by Quinn.

  She hated to see Quinn up there without her, but she’d told him yesterday that she wouldn’t be able to join him for breakfast today. She was glad he hadn’t asked why, because she hated lying. She couldn’t very well tell him she had to spend as much time as she could with her cranky bird in a tree fort on his property because she wasn’t yet comfortable leaving Galileo alone for long.

  Molly went back into the lean-to and pulled the sheet off Galileo’s cage. He was wide awake and gave her the side-eye.

  “Are we speaking this morning?” Molly asked.

  “Bite me.”

  “Oh, good!”

  Molly fed the African Grey and poured some water into his bottle from her thermos.

  “If you’d just give this place a chance, I think you’d like it.”

  Galileo laughed his pirate’s laugh, which he knew freaked Molly out. She opened his cage anyway and gave him some space. She knew this was all going to unfold on Galileo’s own terms.