“You helped the case,” Darius told her.
“I know.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know.”
“You’re very humble.”
“I learned from you.”
He laughed.
By two o’clock, music played from a new speaker.
Marcus had bought one almost twice as large as the destroyed original.
Renee pointed at it.
“Too loud?”
Darius listened.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Want to check the decibel level?”
“I’m going to put you on an administrative leave from speaking to me.”
She smiled.
Children ran through the yard.
Adults argued about ribs.
Loretta complained that Marcus was slicing meat incorrectly.
Nothing happened.
No patrol car.
No clipboard.
No bat.
At one point, Darius stood at the grill with the same kind of stainless-steel tongs Dana had described to dispatch as a possible weapon.
Renee noticed.
She stared at them.
Then at him.
Darius knew what she was thinking.
“Don’t.”
She laughed.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was absolutely going to.”
For a few seconds, they both laughed harder than the joke deserved.
Maybe that was another sign of recovery.
Something that once terrified them had finally become ridiculous enough to joke about.
Loretta’s Rule
Late in the afternoon, Darius sat beside his mother beneath the oak tree.
Loretta watched four generations of relatives spread across the yard.
“You still thinking about that woman?” she asked.
“Not much.”
“That means yes.”
Darius smiled.
“Sometimes.”
Loretta nodded.
“When your father died, I spent about two years angry at the hospital.”
Darius turned toward her.
“You never told me that.”
“They did nothing wrong.”
“That didn't stop me.”
She watched the children.
“I needed someplace to put the anger.”
Darius understood where she was going.
“Dana needed someplace to put hers.”
“Maybe.”
Loretta looked at him.
“But needing somewhere to put anger doesn’t mean you get to put it on people.”
Darius smiled.
“That sounds like a city ordinance.”
“It’s better.”
She pointed toward his plate.
“You’re not eating.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He ate.
Loretta was satisfied.
Two Years Later
Briar Glen did not become a perfect neighborhood.
It remained an HOA.
There were still emails about parking.
Still arguments about fences.
Still residents convinced their neighbor’s shed represented the collapse of civilization.
Howard served one full term as president and refused to run again.