Chapter Thirteen: The Official Notice
Saturday morning arrived under a heavy sky.
At eight, Moreno came to Ethan’s house with a utility crew and a replacement assembly.
He explained the repairs the city had authorized and the precautions still required.
The tubing would remain in evidence while qualified workers restored the household connection.
Ethan watched the crew from a safe distance.
He had become weary of every visitor treating his side yard like a demonstration site.
Moreno handed him a written summary of the inspection findings.
It confirmed that an unauthorized internal tube had been present and that no approved plumbing record supported the installation.
It did not identify every substance that might have passed through it.
Additional laboratory work was ongoing.
“Will you tell the neighborhood?” Ethan asked.
“We have issued notices to the affected addresses,
” Moreno said.
“Public statements will come through the city.”
“Alder Spring is opening its big event in four hours.”
“I know.”
Moreno spoke with measured care.
“Our job is to establish what was done to these service connections and restore safe service.”
“Can the event still happen?”
“I don’t determine theater bookings.”
Ethan nodded.
He appreciated the inspector’s refusal to claim powers he didn’t have.
Moreno added that the city had referred concerns about promotional representations to the relevant consumer protection office.
Ethan took the summary inside.
Nina and June read it at the kitchen table.
“It proves they had no authorization,” Nina said.
“It doesn’t prove where every bottle came from,” June added.
“That’s something the company should explain.”
Tessa arrived carrying a folder of customers’ questions.
She had asked people what they wanted to know without telling them what answer to expect.
The questions filled three pages.
They asked where the water was sourced, how it was treated, whether any house had consented to demonstrations, why the numbers were repeated, what the subscription promises meant, and how customers could receive refunds.
Ethan counted them.
There were twenty-seven distinct questions.
“That’s a better program than Adrian’s,” he said.
June gave a nervous laugh.
“He won’t let anyone ask all of these.”
“Then the event doesn’t get to be the only place people speak,” Nina replied.
She suggested a separate public conversation in the theater’s courtyard, where anyone could ask questions without buying a ticket.
Mateo confirmed that the courtyard remained a public access area during the rental.
They informed theater management of the plan.
The manager agreed to allow peaceful conversation outside but warned them not to obstruct entrances.
Ethan promised they would not.
The group prepared a modest table with copies of the city notice, contact details for official inquiries, and a blank sheet for customers who wanted to share their experiences voluntarily.
Raymond brought an enlarged photograph of the original waterworks crew.
This time he wrote all the workers’ names beneath it.
“If Adrian wants history,” he said, “we can at least use the real kind.”
Carol appeared at noon carrying a small cardboard carton.
Inside were the numbered sleeves she had kept after the preview and a calendar showing the dates of basement demonstrations.
“I’m going to give these to the inspector,” she said.
Ethan looked at the carton.
“Then go.”
Carol hesitated.
“Would you come with me?”
“No,” he said.
“You can tell the truth without me standing beside you.”
She nodded and left for the municipal office.
Ethan watched her go.
He didn’t feel triumphant.
But he was relieved that he had not made her choice for her.
