“Stamped and filed in the permanent land registry,” Nora said.

“Page four shows the four-foot easement as private residential property under your original deed.”

She smiled, patted her apron pockets one more time, and turned to walk back up the sidewalk toward her house.

At two o’clock I walked down to the bank of aluminum mailboxes at the edge of the cul-de-sac.

Arthur Peterson was standing by the flowerbed on the common lawn with a pair of heavy hand pruners, wearing green canvas work gloves.

He’d stepped down from the HOA board the morning after the block party and handed the community center keys over to the board secretary.