He kept his eyes fixed on his fountain pen and wouldn’t look me in the face.

Three months ago he’d known that Harry never got an approved municipal permit for his golf cart extension, but Harry had promised sixty thousand dollars toward the new community center pavilion if the board played along.

“The board votes five to nothing to recognize the temporary restriction order,” Arthur said, stamping the yellow folder with a blue HOA seal.

“It goes into effect right away.”

“You’ve got three hours to move your car off the contested concrete, David,” Harry said, planting both hands on the table.