"Mark, I strongly suggest you stop testing this board," he said. "If you do this again, the association can fine the unit. Another open-flame violation, and we'll contact law enforcement."
"Understood," I said.
He seemed relieved. He mistook the absence of an argument for agreement with his interpretation. Linda followed him across the courtyard with a look of satisfaction that had nothing to do with fire prevention.
Emily waited until they were out of earshot. "I know that face."
"What face?"
"The one you get when somebody has handed you a regulation to read."
"He told me to follow the rules."
"Mark."
"I'm going to follow them."
"You're going to do something weird."
"I'm going to read."
She sighed and gathered the plates. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
That night, after the kitchen was clean and Odin had finally settled in his crate, I opened my laptop at the dining table. Emily came in carrying two cups of tea and found me staring at the association's website. She put one cup near my elbow, careful to avoid the stack of paperwork I'd already pulled from the file cabinet.
"How long are you going to be at this?" she asked.
"Until the answer makes sense."
"That is not a time."
"Then I don't have a time yet."
She watched me scroll through the condominium documents. "I want you to promise me something."
I looked up. "What?"
"That this doesn't become your second full-time job."
"I'm not looking for another job."
"I know. But when somebody gives you a problem with an answer buried somewhere in a manual, you have this habit of treating the manual like buried treasure."
I couldn't deny that. Years of military work had taught me to care about details that appeared unimportant until something went wrong. A missing signature could delay supplies. An incorrect measurement could turn a safe plan into an accident. A loosely written instruction could leave ten different people believing they were supposed to do ten different things. Rules weren't automatically good because someone had printed them, but when they were real, they needed to be read accurately.
I started with the documents Emily had received when she bought her unit: the declaration, bylaws, rules and regulations, and the amendments sent to owners over the years. The language was predictably dense. It dealt with parking, exterior modifications, architectural approvals, maintenance responsibilities, amenities, meetings, enforcement, and appeal procedures. Some sections were plainly meant to protect residents from genuine problems. Others were vague enough to invite arguments about what a phrase such as "community harmony" might mean to whoever happened to be president that year.
I found the fire provision Richard had shown us. I read the paragraphs before and after it, then found the adoption date. There was no later amendment in our packet that specifically prohibited propane grills on every outdoor surface. There was, however, language allowing the board to adopt reasonable safety policies for common property after following association procedures. That meant Richard's interpretation might have practical force in areas the HOA actually controlled, and I wasn't prepared to tell myself otherwise just because Linda had irritated me.