Brain Child Read Free

environment that Ellen herself had been raised in. And Marsh, after spending many college vacations in La Paloma, had agreed.
    During the first ten years after Ellen brought Marsh to La Paloma, her life had been ideal. And then the computer people began coming, and the village began to change. The changes were subtle at first; Ellen had barely noticed them until it was too late.
    Now, as she steered her Volvo station wagon through the village traffic on a May afternoon, Ellen found herself reflecting on the fact that the Square and its tree seemed to symbolize all the changes both she and the town had gone through. If the truth were known, she thought, La Paloma would not seem as attractive as it looked.
    There were, for example, the old houses—the large,rambling mansions built by the Californio overseers in the style of the once-grand hacienda up in the hills. These were finally being restored to their original splendor. But no one ever talked about the fact that often the splendor of the houses failed to alleviate the unhappiness within, and that, as often as not, the homes were sold almost as soon as the restorations were complete, because the families they housed were breaking up, victims of high-tech, high-tension lives.
    And now, Ellen was afraid, the same thing might be about to happen to her and her family.
    She passed the Square, drove up La Paloma Drive two blocks, and pulled into the parking lot of the Medical Center.
    The Medical Center, like the fence around the Square and the chain around the tree, was something Ellen had never expected to see in La Paloma.
    She had been wrong.
    As La Paloma grew, so had Marsh’s practice, and his tiny office had finally become the La Paloma Medical Center, a small but completely equipped hospital. Ellen had long since stopped counting how many people were on staff, as she had also long since given up trying to keep books for Marsh as she had when they’d first married. Marsh, as well as being its director, owned fifty percent of its stock. The Lonsdales, like the village, had prospered. In two more weeks they would be moving out of their cottage on Santa Clara Avenue and into the big old house halfway up Hacienda Drive whose previous owners had filed for a divorce before even beginning the restorations they had planned.
    Ellen half-suspected that one of the reasons she had wanted the house—and she had to admit she’d wanted it far more than Marsh or their son, Alex—was to give her something to do to keep her mind off the fact that her own marriage seemed to be failing, as so many in La Paloma seemed to be, not only among the newcomers but those of her childhood friends as well, unions that had started out with such high expectations, hadseemed to flourish for a while, and now were ending for reasons that most of them didn’t really understand.
    Valerie Benson, who had simply thrown her husband out one day, and announced to her friends that she no longer had the energy to put up with George’s bad habits, though she’d never really told anyone what those bad habits had been. Now she lived alone in the house George had helped her restore.
    Martha Lewis, who still lived with her husband, even though the marriage seemed to have ended years ago. Marty’s husband, who had flown high with the computer people for a while as a sales manager, had finally descended into alcoholism. For Marty, life had become a struggle to make the monthly payments on the house she could no longer really afford.
    Cynthia Evans, who, like Marty, still lived with her husband, but had long ago lost him to the eighteen-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week schedule the Silicon Valley people thrived on, and got rich on. Cynthia had finally decided that if she couldn’t spend time with her husband, she could at least enjoy spending his money, and had convinced him to buy the old ruin at the top of Hacienda Drive and give her free rein to restore it as she saw fit.
    And now, the Lonsdales too were involving