She was standing beside Sophie, talking with two other mothers.
The children had moved away from the cooking area.
The neighborhood still looked shaken.
But people weren't leaving.
They were gathering chairs.
Checking whether anyone needed assistance.
And discussing what could be done next.
Michael swallowed.
“You think we can salvage the fundraiser?”
Grace smiled faintly.
“I'm fairly certain nobody donated money because they were emotionally attached to your sausages.”
Thomas laughed loudly.
Michael shook his head.
“Apparently my cooking isn't appreciated.”
Grace raised one eyebrow.
“I wouldn't go that far.”
Within twenty minutes, several neighbors arranged a replacement lunch using food from local restaurants.
A family brought sandwiches.
Another brought fruit and snacks.
Grace confirmed that everyone understood the fundraiser was continuing voluntarily, without any expectation of payment.
Natalie updated the donation records.
And Sophie made a new sign.
This one read:
BOOKS STILL MATTER!
Michael stared at it.
Then smiled.
For a moment, the day seemed capable of becoming something more than an HOA confrontation.
Then a white utility van pulled up outside his driveway.
The vehicle carried a large blue logo.
CEDARSHIELD COMMUNITY SAFETY SERVICES.
Michael had never heard of the company.
A man in a gray polo shirt stepped out.
He carried a tablet and a black equipment case.
He looked toward the ruined backyard.
Then toward Evelyn, who was standing beside the side gate speaking urgently into her phone.
For a moment, their eyes met.
The man hesitated.
Then walked toward the house.
Michael noticed.
So did Grace.
She looked toward the logo.
Her expression changed.
“What is he doing here?”
Michael frowned.
“You know him?”
Grace didn't answer immediately.
Then she whispered.
“I've seen that company name before.”
The man approached.
“Mr. Lawson?”
Michael turned.
“Yes?”
The stranger smiled professionally.
“I'm here on behalf of CedarShield Community Safety Services. We received a request for an emergency compliance assessment.”
Michael stared.
“An emergency what?”
The man glanced toward the backyard.
“A post-incident safety review.”
Grace stepped closer.
“Who requested it?”
He checked his tablet.
“Cedar Hollow HOA management.”
Michael looked toward Evelyn.
She had stopped speaking into her phone.
The man continued.
“We were advised that a hazardous cooking event had occurred and that the property might require remediation.”
For several seconds, Michael couldn't speak.
Then he looked toward the ruined grill.
The white powder.
The destroyed food.
And the guests who had witnessed the entire incident.
He took a breath.
“Your company was called because of what happened here?”
The man nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Michael folded his arms.
“When?”
The stranger examined his tablet.
For a moment, he seemed confused.
Then he said.
“The service request was opened this morning.”
Grace looked toward him.
“What time?”