"We'll make sure it's clear," Jordan replied.
Karen left without asking what they did for work or whether they needed anything. Nia watched her cross the street, her pink tracksuit bright against the green lawn, and waited until the woman disappeared indoors before speaking. "Well. That was welcoming."
"Maybe she takes neighborhood rules seriously."
"She asked whether you were a mover while you were carrying our family photographs into our own house."
Jordan sighed. "I heard her."
"You always want to give people an explanation that lets them be better than what they just showed you."
"Sometimes they are."
"And sometimes they aren't." Nia took his hand and pulled him toward the front door. "Come on. We have boxes, a broken shelf, and about four hundred screws with no instructions. Let's deal with things we can actually fix."
For the next two days, Karen found reasons to appear whenever Jordan was outside. Once she wanted to know whether the black sedan in the garage belonged to a visiting business associate. Another time she mentioned that several neighbors preferred contractors not to park on the street overnight. Jordan explained that the sedan was his and that the people carrying furniture were friends helping him move. Karen acknowledged the answers without looking satisfied by them.
The car was a black luxury sedan Jordan had bought used several years earlier, after a promotion and a long stretch of saving. It was the nicest vehicle he had ever owned, although he still thought of it mainly as a car that started reliably and had comfortable seats for trips to see Nia's parents. A fresh coat of black paint made it look more expensive than it was. The previous owner's meticulous maintenance records had been the deciding factor in the purchase, not the brand on the hood.
On Friday evening, Jordan found a folded notice tucked under his windshield wiper. It bore the name of the neighborhood association and informed him that exterior vehicle washing should not create a nuisance for pedestrian traffic. No citation number appeared on it, no association officer had signed it, and the paragraph about nuisance runoff was underlined twice in blue ink. He showed the notice to Nia over dinner, and she read it twice before setting it beside her plate.
"We haven't washed the car," she said.
"I know."
"So she's giving us a warning about something we haven't done."
"That's what it looks like."
Nia turned the paper over. "This isn't even a real violation notice. It's a photocopied page from a neighborhood newsletter."
Jordan set it aside. "I'll check the association rules after breakfast. Maybe the driveway slopes more than we noticed. If water reaches the sidewalk, I'll redirect the hose."
Nia studied him. "I love that you still think this is about water."