As they prepared to leave, the first officer glanced toward the steaks. "After all of that, those better be good."
"They will be," I promised.
"Seems like you've done the preparation."
"That's most of cooking."
He smiled, shook his head, and returned to the patrol car. The vehicles left as quietly as they'd arrived, without a citation, a warning, a confiscated grill, or anyone being ordered off the strip. A resident walking toward the pool slowed long enough to look at me with open curiosity. I nodded, and he nodded back. There wasn't much else to say.
Linda waited until the patrol cars were out of sight. Then she stepped toward me again, stopping on the other side of the reference marker.
"This isn't over," she said.
"Okay."
"You think you've embarrassed me, but this community has rules."
"I know."
"And the board will deal with you."
I rested the tongs on the side shelf. "Then please put whatever decision you make in writing."
Her eyes narrowed one last time. She turned and walked away, Richard following without speaking. He didn't look back at the binder. He'd spent enough time looking at it already.
When they were gone, I checked the steak. It had gone a little further than I intended, but it was still good. I took it off the grill, set it on a plate, and let it rest. A strangely ordinary end to a morning that had somehow required two police officers and a recorded property plat to determine whether a man could cook lunch.
Emily arrived a short while later carrying a small bag of bread rolls and a container of potato salad. She had been helping with Odin's scheduled training practice and had seen the patrol cars leaving the complex. Her eyes went immediately to my face, then to the grill.
"Nobody got arrested?" she asked.
"No."
"Nobody took the grill?"
"No."
"Anybody issue a ticket?"
"No."
She looked at the blue binder. "You got to use it."
"A few sections."
"Was she angry?"
"Very."
Emily set the food on the table and exhaled. "I don't know whether to be relieved or furious that a property map was necessary for this."
"Both are reasonable."
She studied me. "Are we done?"
I thought about Linda's last sentence. "The police question is done. I don't think the board question is."
Emily closed her eyes briefly. "Of course not."
We ate outside anyway. Odin settled at her feet, looking from one of us to the other each time a fork moved. The steaks were good, though not the best I'd ever made. Emily said she could taste all the paperwork, which was an unfair criticism because I hadn't seasoned them with any. For an hour we talked about dinner plans, our upcoming wedding, and whether Odin had actually understood his latest training exercise or merely discovered that sitting still produced treats.