Chapter 15 - A Photograph of an Empty Tank
The sticker said a separate equipment-storage concern had been referred to the management company. It did not impose a charge, but the sight of orange paper under my wiper still made my stomach tighten.
"We answer what it says," Leah told me. "Nothing extra."
I drafted a statement explaining that the truck was registered, driveable, and parked within my driveway. The equipment was secured, the tank empty, and no customers came to our home. I included an ordinary photograph of the truck bed and the page of community rules dealing with parking. No rule I could find prohibited a resident from carrying tools to work.
Then I took the statement to Laurel. She told me the second allegation was only a request for review and had not been approved by the board. She accepted my response and promised to put the matter on the agenda for a factual determination.
"Is he going to keep doing this?" I asked.
Laurel was quiet. "I don't control which complaints residents submit. I do control whether I document the response accurately."
It wasn't the reassurance I wanted, but it was an honest description of her role.
I went straight from the clubhouse to work, where Dani handed me next week's roster. Four shifts. Still not five, but better than two. She had moved another account to fit my hours, and I thanked her.
"Don't thank me yet," she said. "The dealership renewal meeting is Thursday."
Her eyes moved toward Owen and the new hire sorting pads at the sink. I understood. My neighbor dispute had become a shadow over people who weren't part of it.
I told Dani she could remove me from Mercer's location if that was best for the team. She studied me for a long moment.
"A month ago, you would've called that surrender."
"A month ago, I was mostly thinking about myself."
"You're allowed to defend yourself. You're not required to take everyone with you."
She accepted the offer but said she'd decide after the client meeting. It hurt. That was how I knew I was serious.
At home, Ellie was building a cardboard model of a Mars rover at the kitchen counter. She asked why its wheels needed deep grooves. I explained traction on loose ground, then watched her carve small channels with the concentration of someone who trusted a problem to have a solution.
"Can the rover drive through dust?" she asked.
"That's kind of the point."
"Then why can't your truck?"
May you like
I didn't have an answer that didn't involve grown-ups behaving worse than children.
At eight that evening, Priya called. She'd read the evidence packet. "Miles," she said, "I need you to know Charles is asking us to vote on both complaints together."
