Chapter 6 - The File From 2017
Otis read the 2017 guideline on my porch while a monsoon cloud gathered beyond the roofs.
"I remember this revision," he said. "We wanted people to have more choices. Drip systems, rock beds, ground cover. Denise campaigned on making the neighborhood prettier after I left."
"Do you remember anybody getting approval for artificial turf?"
He gave me a look. "Walk down Copperleaf Court."
Denise's property sat on the corner, fronted by an impossibly green strip of artificial grass. A plaque described a drought-conscious yard. The turf was approved years ago, Otis said, through the same architectural review process.
The irony was satisfying for thirty seconds. Then I reminded myself that her lawn could be properly approved even if she was treating mine unfairly. I needed a legitimate comparison, not a gotcha photograph.
I requested the published criteria used to approve artificial turf and other alternative designs. Rachel sent me a blank application packet. Applicants were asked to include a drawing, materials, and water-management plan. No rule required green grass to be alive.
I filled out an application to replace our struggling sod with a low-water landscape after summer: a narrow patch of adapted groundcover around the path, drip-irrigated desert plants, and a small shaded sitting area. Gabe reviewed the drawing and crossed out two plants that would cook beside the reflected heat of our driveway.
"This is a good plan," he said. "Better than repainting forever."
"I never wanted to repaint forever."
"Tell that to the people taking selfies with your lawn."
That afternoon Emma came home upset again. Somebody had made a parody account for our address. It wasn't threatening, just relentless. I watched her push her orchestra case under the bed instead of practicing.
"Let's take the yard back," I said. "No more jokes from me until the hearing's over."
She nodded without looking up.
I submitted the landscaping proposal with a request that both open complaints be considered together. The board's acknowledgment came that evening. It approved a review appointment but said nothing about the complaints.
Then Denise called. She did not bother pretending to be cheerful.
"Withdraw the challenge and remove those stripes before the tour, Nora. I'll recommend closing the first notice."
"What about the second one?"
"I'll see what I can do."
"And my new landscape application?"
"We can discuss it afterward."
I looked at Emma's silent bedroom door. A quiet settlement would protect her from more attention. But Denise was asking me to give up a written decision in exchange for a favor she could take back.
"Put the offer in an email," I said.
May you like
There was a long pause.
"You're making a very simple problem difficult," Denise answered, and hung up.
