“I understand completely,” I said.

I opened my door and climbed out into the damp October chill.

Brandon dropped the hose on the grass and came toward us with long, rushed strides.

“What’s all this, Dad?” Brandon asked.

“Who are these people?”

Margaret got out on the driver’s side and took a thick blue paper folder tied with white string from her leather briefcase.

She stayed on the edge of the asphalt driveway and wouldn’t step onto the lawn.

“Brandon, I’m serving you with a formal notice of occupancy review on behalf of Mitchell Family Holdings,” Margaret said.