“And there are a lot of people standing here who can tell you the same thing.”
I turned toward the inspector.
He was still holding his clipboard.
But he hadn’t written anything for nearly fifteen minutes.
Then someone cleared his throat.
We all looked toward the fence.
Trent had come down from his deck.
He was standing near the property boundary in expensive slippers and a dark robe, holding his coffee mug.
His expression was furious.
“What is this?”
Dad straightened.
“Morning, Trent.”
Trent ignored him.
He looked directly at Andrew.
“Are you the inspector?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I’d like to know why this property is still operating like a commercial farm.”
Andrew remained calm.
“We’re conducting an inspection.”
Trent pointed toward the parked vehicles.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. Trucks everywhere. People carrying food out of the garden. It’s completely inappropriate for a residential neighborhood.”
Several people stopped working.
The cheerful sounds of the morning faded.
Dad stepped forward.
“Trent, these folks won’t be here long.”
Trent laughed bitterly.
“That’s not the point!”
He turned toward Andrew.
“I paid nearly two million dollars for that house. I shouldn’t have to look at a farm every morning.”
I felt anger rise in my chest.
I started toward him.
Dad gently raised one hand.
I stopped.
He looked at Trent.
“You knew the garden was here when you bought the property.”
Trent’s face reddened.
“I was told this was a quiet residential area.”
Dad nodded.
“It is.”
Trent pointed toward the people.
“Does this look quiet to you?”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Henry stepped forward carrying his box of tomatoes.
“It’s not loud.”
Trent looked down at him.
“What?”
The little boy swallowed.
“We’re just picking vegetables.”
Sarah quickly approached and placed a protective hand on Henry’s shoulder.
Trent rolled his eyes.
“Wonderful. Now children are getting involved.”
Something in my chest tightened.
But Dad remained calm.
He looked toward Henry.
“Why don’t you help Denise with those tomatoes, son?”
