He came down the steps and walked toward the property line wearing jeans now, his robe gone.
He stopped near the cedar posts.
“What’s all this?”
Dad didn’t look up.
“Morning, Brent.”
“I asked what’s going on.”
“People are picking vegetables.”
“I can see that.”
Dad nodded.
“Then we’re making progress.”
Under other circumstances I might have laughed.
Brent didn’t.
He looked at the parked vehicles lining the road.
“This is exactly the problem. Traffic. People coming and going. This is a residential neighborhood.”
One of the teenage boys looked over.
Dad gave him the slightest shake of his head.
The boy returned to the squash.
Aaron approached the fence.
“Mr. Hollis?”
Brent straightened.
“Yes.”
“I’m Aaron Pike. County land use.”
“I know. I filed the complaint.”
Aaron glanced at the garden.
“I’m aware.”
Brent gestured toward the people.
“You see what I mean now.”
