Logan.
Elijah recognized him from Vivien’s driveway.
“Hey.”
Logan walked directly into the garage without being invited.
“Dude.”
He stared at the Mustang.
“This thing is sick.”
Elijah returned to his polishing.
“She photographs well.”
“What year?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“Engine?”
“Boss 429.”
Logan whistled.
“How much horsepower?”
“Enough.”
The teenager moved closer and ran his fingertips along the freshly waxed fender.
Elijah immediately caught his wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough to stop him.
“Careful.”
Logan blinked.
“I was just touching it.”
“I spent an hour on that panel.”
Elijah released him.
Logan laughed dismissively.
“Bro, it’s a car.”
“To you.”
Logan walked around the Mustang, peering through the windows.
“You actually drive it?”
“Occasionally.”
“You should let me take it around the block.”
Elijah looked at him.
At first he assumed Logan was joking.
The teenager wasn’t.
“I’m serious,” Logan said. “I’m a good driver.”
“How long have you had your license?”
“Like a month.”
Elijah stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Logan’s face immediately tightened.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“So can I?”
“No.”
“Come on. Just around the neighborhood.”
“No.”
“I wouldn’t even take it over thirty.”
“No.”
“My mom knows everybody here.”
“I’m sure she does.”
Logan folded his arms.
“My dad pays, like, a ridiculous amount in HOA fees.”
Elijah waited.
“That basically means we own part of the neighborhood.”
Elijah wondered where this was going.
Apparently, Logan did too, because the next sentence seemed to surprise even him.
“So technically we own part of the street, which means we kind of have rights to anything using it.”
Elijah slowly set his polishing cloth on the workbench.
“Son.”
Logan’s expression hardened at the word.
“That may be the dumbest explanation of property law I’ve heard in twenty-five years.”
“You calling me stupid?”
“I’m telling you that paying HOA fees does not give you ownership of my car.”
“You don’t have to be a jerk.”
“And you don’t have to be in my garage.”
Logan stared at him.
For several seconds, something ugly passed through the teenager’s expression.
Not embarrassment.
Entitlement wounded by refusal.
Elijah recognized it immediately.
“We’ll see,” Logan muttered.
He turned and walked away.
Twenty-three minutes later, Vivien Hartman appeared on Elijah’s porch.
She was dressed as though she had been summoned to negotiate an international crisis.
White pants.
Navy blazer.
Gold HOA pin.
Clipboard.
Her husband, Gregory, was nowhere in sight.
“Mr. Grant.”
“Ms. Hartman.”
“My son tells me you were extremely rude to him.”
Elijah leaned against the doorframe.
“I told him he couldn’t drive my car.”
“He said you mocked him.”
“He asked to drive a four-hundred-plus-horsepower muscle car after having his license for one month.”
“Logan is very responsible.”
“That may be.”
“He has never had an accident.”
“He’s been driving four weeks.”
Vivien ignored that.
“When a young person shows interest in something, encouraging that enthusiasm is good for the community.”
Elijah stared at her.
“Are you asking me to hand your seventeen-year-old son the keys to my Mustang?”
“I’m suggesting that neighbors should be generous.”
“No.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“No.”
“You could at least let him drive around the block.”
“No.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“It’s my vehicle.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to behave selfishly.”
Elijah’s patience was substantial.
It was not infinite.
“Ms. Hartman, that car belonged to my father.”
Vivien blinked, but he continued.
“We restored it together. He is dead. No one drives it but me. This conversation is finished.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across her face.
Then pride took over.
Her shoulders stiffened.
“We’ll see whether that vehicle even complies with HOA regulations.”
Elijah almost smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She stepped backward.
“I’ll be reviewing the community guidelines.”
“Enjoy your evening.”
She did more than review them.
Within forty-eight hours, Elijah received his first violation notice.
UNREASONABLE VEHICLE NOISE.
Interesting, considering Elijah had not started the Mustang since the previous Sunday.
Three days later came another.
DISTRACTING EXTERIOR VEHICLE COLOR.