But, when their little kombucha operation got picked up by a major health food chain, things started to change for the Tranquility bunch. To meet the demands of the business world, they needed to join the real world.
I’d been out there a couple of times since the trust had invested, and they seemed to have found a good balance of creating an adequate facility but still keeping with the authentic spirit of “living in community,” as they called it. The idea of a kombucha that came straight out of a Sedona hippie commune was probably a big selling point for the distributor.
But, according to Perry, they needed to update to a more efficient manufacturing process, which required a hefty check. We’d been e-mailing back and forth about it for months, and I could tell he was tired of talking and ready to make some moves.
Today, Perry wore his usual, cargo pants and a t-shirt that looked like he’d been out in Tranquility’s vegetable garden.
“Perry,” Vicki greeted him with a smile. “How are you?”
Perry gave Vicki a quick side hug, and they exchanged pleasantries briefly while I pulled up Perry’s budget proposal. I’d sent it over to the board for approval, but I hadn’t read the responses yet.
“How’s Kristen and the baby?” Vicki asked.
Kristen was Perry’s wife, and their son, a boy named Neptune, had almost been born in a van I was driving. In the end, we found my mother, who delivered the baby in a birthing center. But, for a brief moment, I’d thought for sure Vicki and I were going to have to deliver a baby on the side of the road. To date, that was probably the most memorable moment of my career.
“They’re great,” Perry’s smiled, “Neptune has finally started sleeping through the night, so we actually get sleep now.”
“Aww,” Vicki cooed. “That’s a relief. Infant sleep training is always hard. What method did you use?”
I furrowed my brow at Vicki. What would she know about infant sleep training? That’s the thing about moving from the big city to a small town. In our circles in L.A., people were all about their careers and into casual dating, or even just hooking up. They wouldn’t start getting serious about marriage until much later in life.
But, in Sedona, most of the people our age were already knee deep into marriage and family life. It took a bit of faking it to relate to them sometimes.
Unfortunately, Vicki only served to encourage Perry to go on and on about the dangers of modern sleep training, how it hinders the child’s cognitive and social development and might have lasting roots in adolescent maldevelopment.
Vicki listened with the best feigned empathy I’d ever seen, but I interrupted them.
“I have the budget breakdown right here,” I announced as I pulled papers off the printer, and Perry turned to me.
“Great,” he said as he wrung his hands nervously. “What did the board think?”
“Overall,” I replied evenly, “they liked it, and gave the project the green light.” Then I cracked a broad grin.
Perry threw his arms in the air and smiled. “So, we can start hiring contractors?”
“Yep,” I chuckled. “You’re in business.”
“We’re in business,” he echoed in awe.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “make the trust some money. I’ll have a check for you here in a couple of days.”
“Will do,” he said and rose to leave, but then he turned back to us. “Hey, before I forget … ”
Vicki and I paused to listen.
“We’ve got this party,” Perry continued. “We think you guys would be into it. We’re going to plant the placenta with a tree in honor of Neptune, and it’s going to be a big deal. You guys should come.”
I glanced at Vicki, who sighed, and I searched for a polite decline.
“And we’ll have some bootleg.” Perry shrugged in my direction.
”Bootleg, huh?” I said with a raised eyebrow.
The kombucha factory also manufactured some pretty good whiskey on the down low, but a placenta planting party was not in the cards.
“We’d love to come,” Vicki cut in before I could say another word. “Tell Kristen I said hi.”
“Will do,” Perry replied with a grin. “Gotta go make some tea.”
“Make that tea,” I said.
Perry left, and I turned to Vicki.
“What?” she responded.
“You just RSVP’ed us to a placenta planting party,” I muttered.
“It will be fun,” she chuckled. “Just drink ‘artisan’ whiskey and don’t worry about it.”
“Did you do that just to get at me?” I said and narrowed my eyes at her.
She laughed but didn’t respond.
I rolled my eyes, pulled up my e-mails again, and tried to go through them.
“The architect we talked to yesterday sent a follow-up,” I announced.
Vicki and I had just closed on a land deal, and we were in the earliest stage of building our first home.
“I didn’t like her,” Vicki grumbled and scrunched her nose. “She gave me that vibe.”
“What vibe?” I asked with a frown. “She seemed nice enough.”
She shrugged. “It’s that competitive woman vibe.”
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
She groaned and searched for words. “It’s hard to explain.”
“I know what you mean,” AJ piped up from the corner of the room. “It’s all the high school mean girls who never grew out of it, they only learned sneakier tricks.”
“Yes!” Vicki exclaimed as she clapped her hands together.
“I hate that stuff,” AJ rolled her eyes, “high school was stupid.”
“Okay,” I said and deleted the e-mail from the high school mean girl architect. “I thought she did good work, had a good portfolio.”
“We have to work with this person for months,” Vicki pointed out. “Personality counts a
