Thomas hesitated. “I think she expected someone she could
order around.”
Before Marcus could answer, a white sport-utility vehicle
slowed near the house. Susan sat behind the wheel wearing
oversized sunglasses. She did not wave. The vehicle continued to
the corner.
Thomas’s shoulders loosened after it disappeared.
“You’re afraid of her,” Marcus said.
“I dislike conflict.”
“That is a preference. Fear is different.”
Thomas looked down. “Five years ago, my wife put a ramp at
our front step after hip surgery. Susan issued notices because we
had not submitted a design application. She threatened a lien.
The association probably could not have enforced it, but my wife
was ill and I did not have the energy. I paid a lawyer to write a
letter. Susan withdrew the notice and told everyone we were
unreasonable.”
“Your wife?”
“Died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Thomas looked toward the neighboring porch,
where a ceramic bird still hung beside the door. “Conflict costs
more when someone you love is tired.”
Marcus understood that too well.
At noon, Ava crossed the street with a folder. She had slept
three hours after her hospital shift but looked determined.
G ET O U T O F T H IS N EI G H B O R H O O D
19
“This came to our house last year,” she said.
Inside was a violation notice concerning an unapproved
commercial vehicle. The alleged vehicle was Ava’s brother’s
plumbing van, parked outside for four hours while he replaced
her water heater.
“I paid the fifty-dollar fine,” she said. “Susan told me disputing
it would require an administrative hearing and legal fees.”
Marcus read the bylaws. “The fine schedule attached to this is
not in the governing document.”
“I know that now.”
“Did the association deposit the check?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a copy?”
“I can get it.”
“Get it. Do not give me the original.”
Ava studied him. “Are you investigating?”
“I’m learning about my neighborhood.”
“That sounds like investigating.”
“Old habits.”
By evening, Marcus had received six introductions. Priya Shah,
an employment attorney from the corner house, brought
homemade bread and said she had already represented two
residents in disputes with the board. Jamal and Leah Brooks,
parents of twin toddlers, apologized for not coming outside
during the police call. A young white couple named Matt and Erin
Caldwell said Susan could be “intense” but meant well. Mr.
Greene returned the empty coffee tray though Marcus had never
given it back.
Every visitor offered a version of Cedar Ridge. In one version,
it was safe, beautiful, and friendly. In another, it was governed by
fear of embarrassment. In a third, Susan was a tireless volunteer
G ET O U T O F T H IS N EI G H B O R H O O D
20
whose methods were unfortunate but necessary. In the version
emerging from paperwork and lowered voices, she had built
authority from other people’s reluctance to challenge her.
At eight, an email arrived from the association.
WELCOME TO CEDAR RIDGE, the subject line read.
The message did not welcome him. It advised that exterior
work, commercial activity, nonstandard vehicles, political
signage, fencing, landscaping changes, and gatherings of more
than twelve people required review. It instructed new owners to
submit identification and employer information for the
community directory.
At the bottom appeared Susan’s name and title.
Marcus replied with four sentences.
Ms. Whitmore,
Please identify the provision requiring employment
information and government identification. Please preserve all
association communications concerning 814 Hawthorne Lane,
Alice Bennett, and my purchase of the property. Please direct
future property-related notices to me in writing. Do not enter my
property without permission.
Marcus Reed
Ninety seconds later, the reply came.
Your tone is unnecessarily hostile.
Marcus saved it in a folder called CEDAR RIDGE. Then he
opened a notebook and wrote a date at the top of the first page.
The badge was gone. The habits remained: record what
happened, separate fact from inference, preserve what could
disappear, and never confuse a person’s certainty with proof.
Outside, porch lights came on one by one. At Susan’s house, the
upstairs curtains moved.
Marcus closed the notebook.
G ET O U T O F T H IS N EI G H B O R H O O D
21
He had come to Hawthorne Lane to build furniture, read
books, and grow tomatoes.
It appeared he would have to build something else first.
G ET O U T O F T H IS N EI G H B O R H O O D
22
T
C H A P T E R 3
Rules for Some People
he first violation notice arrived Monday morning, less than
seventy-two hours after the police call.
It was taped to Marcus’s front door in a plastic sleeve
despite his written request that Susan not enter the property. The
notice cited him for three offenses: an unapproved work vehicle,