The first time Patricia Holloway complained about the truck, she didn't use the word violation.
She called it an eyesore.
I had lived in Cedar Ridge for twelve days.
Most of my furniture was still being arranged.
Several boxes remained in the garage.
And I had just returned from buying groceries when Patricia appeared beside my driveway.
She wore a pale-pink blouse, white trousers, and oversized sunglasses.
Her platinum-blonde hair was styled perfectly.
She held a clipboard against her chest.
"Excuse me."
I turned.
"Yes?"
She looked toward the Silverado.
"Is that yours?"
I smiled.
"Yes."
She frowned.
"Do you use it for work?"
"Sometimes I carry tools in it."
Her expression tightened.
"So it's a commercial vehicle."
I looked toward the truck.
It had ordinary passenger registration, no commercial plates, no company lettering, no external racks, and no special equipment.
"It's my personal pickup."
She pointed toward the rear tires.
"It's quite large."
I laughed softly.
"It's a Silverado."
She didn't smile.
"Commercial vehicles aren't permitted to remain visible in driveways."
I looked at her.
"Can you show me the applicable rule?"
Her expression changed.
"Are you questioning me?"
I blinked.
"I'm asking for the rule."
She straightened.
"I'm Patricia Holloway, HOA president."
I smiled politely.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Marcus Reed."
She stared at my outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it.
Then she looked toward the house.
"Are you the new owner?"
"Yes."
She glanced at my work clothes.
I had been on a construction site earlier and was still wearing dusty boots and a charcoal work shirt.
"Owner?"
I nodded.
"That's right."
She looked toward the driveway again.
Then said something that stayed with me.
"Well, these homes have certain expectations."
I studied her.
"What kind?"
She smiled thinly.
"Appearance. Standards. Proper use."
I looked toward the truck.
"Understood. Send me the exact section of the governing documents, and I'll review it."