Linda had her supporters, too, and not all of them were fools. She had helped organize a successful campaign to repair a dangerous section of sidewalk several years before we moved in. She had called contractors repeatedly when the pool filtration system failed, and some owners believed the association would have gone bankrupt without her attention to expenses. I learned those things from Gary, who disliked Linda but believed in giving credit where it was due.
"She'll go after you over a leaf in your parking space," he told me once, "but she's also the reason that pool isn't green. People can be both things."
"That's fair," I said.
"Just don't give her an audience. She likes one too much."
The grill entered our lives because I wanted to cook outside, not because I was looking for another fight. Emily and I had spent a Friday evening watching an outdoor cooking show, and by Saturday afternoon I was standing in a home improvement store comparing small propane models. Charcoal grills and smokers had recently been mentioned in an association notice, particularly near the buildings and covered walkways. I wanted something compact, easy to shut off, and less likely to create smoke that drifted into another resident's windows.
I chose a two-burner propane grill with a stable cart, a shutoff control I could reach easily, and a cylinder sized for ordinary household cooking. I read its instructions before using it, the way Emily wished I would read the instructions before putting together furniture. Back at Cedar Landing, I rolled it toward a paved open area away from the buildings, where there were picnic tables and no obvious signs forbidding cooking. Emily brought paper plates, water, and ingredients for burgers.
We had nearly finished the first batch when Linda appeared. She stood at the edge of the paved area with the expression of a person who had discovered a fire in an elevator. I watched her assess the grill, the plate in Emily's hand, and the small tray of buns before she delivered her verdict.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Emily looked at me over the table. "Civilian voice," she murmured.
"Good afternoon, Linda," I said.
"That grill is not allowed. Turn it off."
"Can you show me the rule that applies to a propane grill in this location?"
"The association prohibits grilling in common areas. Everybody knows that."
"The last notice mentioned charcoal grills and smokers. I bought propane because I took the notice seriously. If there's another restriction, I'd like to read it."
Linda planted both hands on her hips. "You don't get to reinterpret the rules just because you don't like them."
"I'm asking which rule to follow."
"You are doing this on purpose."
I looked down at the burgers, one of which had burned around the edge while we talked. "I am trying to cook dinner."
The answer did not help. Linda told me I had an established pattern of challenging authority, citing the dog incident as if Odin's leash had become a matter of historical record. Emily stepped forward and reminded her that she had been holding the leash the entire time. Linda said that was beside the point. I wondered how many things could become beside the point before we stopped having a point at all.