Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“I’ll see. Have a good day.” I wave to Marco and his truckful of guys as they pull away and then march right back to my yard to see what the hell’s going on now.
“You can see the new fence line markings there,” Kathy is telling the Polo guy, but when I get close enough, she turns her focus to me. “This is Mr. Gardener from the city Code Enforcement office.”
“You haven’t pulled permits for your pool?” I question, even though I know Kyle’s definitely done that. He’s too good to skip an important thing like that. Plus, Code Enforcement doesn’t have anything to do with permits, but it takes the wind out of Kathy’s sails exactly the way I hoped it would.
“Of course I have.” She stands taller, offended at the implication that she might be cutting corners. “He’s not here for me. He’s here for you,” Kathy sneers. “Right, Mr. Gardener?”
He seems tired of Kathy’s bullshit already, or maybe his job in general—which is logical since I can’t imagine code enforcement is a laughs-a-minute gig—because when his eyes tick from his clipboard to me, he sighs. “There’s been a complaint. Apparently, the property line adjustment means that your patio is too close to where the new fencing will be.”
I look at the patio behind me, where my smoker and huge grill—the backbones of my business and primary method for cooking huge quantities of meat every day—are located. “What do you mean, ‘too close’?” I question carefully.
“Well, technically, it’s not the concrete pad itself that’s the issue. That has to be three feet from the fence, and you’ll be close, but probably just squeak by, though we can measure once the fence is up.” He glances to Kyle, who seems to be silently screaming and ready to rip someone limb from limb, though I'm not sure if it’s me, Kathy, or Mr. Gardener. Kyle grunts, not giving him the agreement he seemed to be hoping for. “But because you have a cottage operation filed with the city—”
He looks up, wanting me to confirm, but I simply arch a brow, not answering directly.
He cocks his head, assuming he’s correct, and continues, “The fire code for the grill comes into play. You won’t be able to have it between your house and the new fence because of both distance and fencing material.”
“I won’t be able to have my equipment here?” I echo, sure I must’ve misheard. I mean, patios are made for grills.
He shakes his head coldly. “No, and as soon as the fence is up—”
Kathy interrupts to remind me, “Which is tomorrow!”
Mr. Gardener cuts his eyes toward her and gives a tiny, irritated shake of his head, “Once the fence is up,” he repeats pointedly, “you won’t be able to grill. Or smoke. Or any other heated cooking methods on the patio. Or the fire marshal will fine you.”
I can see it now. If I light my grill, Kathy will be all too happy to call the fire department on me, tattling as fast as she can. Which means I’m stuck.
Except…
“It just has to be away from the fence,” I clarify. “So in the back yard would be okay?”
“Fire code requires it to be on concrete for obvious fire risk.”
“Looks like tomorrow’s your last day of business,” Kathy informs me with a victorious smirk. “Can’t say I’m sorry. All those men and trucks coming up and down the street is so distasteful.”
She doesn’t seem to care that those ‘distasteful men and trucks’ are the ones standing at her side and sitting in her yard, watching this whole thing play out like it’s Saturday night at the movies. Wayne, Frogger, and Zeus just need popcorn and a Coke to complete their viewing party of the afternoon matinee, ‘Kathy’s a Kuntcake, Part XVII.’
“I’ll figure something out,” I spit out, not to anyone in particular, but because putting that out into the universe seems prudent.
“Dani,” Kyle says, and I glare at him.
It’s not his fault. Logically, I know that. But I’m too mad right now. At Kathy… at the damn pool that’s never going to get used anyway… at myself… and yeah, at Kyle, too. If he hadn’t been such a conscientious pool installer, he wouldn’t have gotten the fence line resurveyed. He would’ve thrown up Kathy’s new fence right where the old one stands, and none of this would’ve mattered.
So I just need a minute to rage and then I’ll figure out what the fuck I’m going to do.
Some people think anger is a waste of time, a useless destructive force that ultimately hurts the one feeling it the most. But I’ve fueled many a life change on anger, stubbornness, and a dangerous amount of caffeine. And I can do it again.
I will do it again.
“This isn’t over,” I vow to Kathy.
Her answering smirk is as devious and sly as her scheming is, and she drags Kyle away by his arm, saying, “Kyle, let’s walk through the flower bed design again.”