I was foolish enough to think it was over. In truth, all I’d done was drop a match in a jug of gas.
“Don’t call me for things around your house anymore.”
By the time we reached our porch, two couples were already walking home.
A few minutes later, another neighbor left carrying a folding chair.
Vanessa’s barbecue hadn’t ended, but the mood had.
For about 40 minutes, I felt wonderful.
Then I started wondering what Vanessa would do after losing in front of half the neighborhood.
For about 40 minutes, I felt wonderful.
The answer began with petty things.
A complaint about Irvin running the lawn mower at noon. An anonymous note about our trash cans being visible from the street. Irritating, but harmless.
Then the real threat arrived.
I stood in my kitchen and read the letter twice.
Vanessa had found a way to hit me where it hurt. I had to stop all commercial food operations from our property pending a compliance review.
