EPILOGUE — AFTER THE RAIN
A year after the first notice, Liam’s native garden looked different.
Some plants had doubled in size.
Others had died during an unusually hot stretch of summer.
He replaced those with tougher varieties and left a narrow stone path where delivery workers could walk without brushing against the flowers.
The house was still his.
The mortgage was still his responsibility.
So were the weeds, the pruning, and the inevitable arguments with deer that considered his most expensive plants a free buffet.
The association had negotiated repayments to several owners from funds recovered through its contract disputes, while other claims continued through ordinary legal channels.
The former manager’s conduct remained the subject of separate proceedings, and Liam had learned to distinguish an investigation from a conviction.
He did not put a victory sign in his yard.
Instead, he placed a small wooden label beside a patch of bluebonnets.
The label read Native Meadow Demonstration Garden.
On a cool Saturday morning, Iris arrived with her cane and a packet of seeds.
She found Liam kneeling by the fence, pulling crabgrass from between the stepping stones.
“I thought you hated grass,” she said.
“Only the kind that refuses to pay rent,” he replied.
She laughed and handed him the seeds.
Across the street, Ruby’s daughter was showing two children a caterpillar on a milkweed leaf.
A delivery van slowed, then passed without blocking the sidewalk.
From the clubhouse came the faint sound of people setting out folding chairs for an open board meeting.
Liam planted the first seed, pressed the soil gently over it, and reached for the next.
The End.
