“Haven’t you looked them up?” she asked.
“No. I just assumed that when I bought the house, I could do whatever I wanted.”
She shot me a pitying look. “Oh, you sweet summer child.” On a sigh, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was determined. “For starters, you can’t rent your house if you decide you want to live elsewhere. They don’t want Airbnbs operating in their community because that might bring in the ‘wrong sort of people.’” Her fingers flexed to let me know what she meant.
“Oh, they don’t want me renting to crackheads,” I said on a laugh. “I think I can manage that.”
She didn’t look convinced. “It’s not just crackheads.”
“I bought the house to live in, not to rent. I’m fine with that.”
“Okay.” She bobbed her head. “You can only have one accessory building, like a garage, on the property. So if you have a garage, like you do, you can’t also have a she shed.”
I frowned. “Why would I want a she shed?”
“She sheds are awesome.”
I ignored that and twirled my finger to get her to continue.
“There are rules about property maintenance, so don’t let the weeds get out of control. Guests have to be accompanied by a homeowner.”
“I won’t let crazy Uncle Louis loose in one of their bars without a chaperone,” I said dryly.
“No political signs or overblown yard decorations,” Hayley said.
I faltered. “Excuse me?”
“I’m pretty sure those flamingos in coconut bras you love so much are going to be banned,” she said.
The flamingos in question were yard ornaments that had seen better days. I still loved them. “Interesting.” I glanced up and around as if somebody else was going to pop out of the shadows. “Anything else?”
“Not off the top of my head.”
“Hmm.” I considered it, then I pointed toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To look around. If this place is full-on Stepford, I want to see it with my own eyes.”
“Does that mean you’re going to get a golf cart so you can fit in?”
I snorted. “I’m not getting a golf cart. It’s completely unnecessary. I have a Vespa.”
“You mean that little scooter I saw the movers unloading?” She chortled. “You’re not really going to ride that, are you?”
“Um, yes. I love that thing. I used to tool around Detroit all the time on it.”
“This isn’t Detroit.”
“You don’t say,” I drawled.
“Detroit has way more color than this place does. At least this island. Savannah itself has some color.”
“Yes, and I’m looking forward to seeing it.” I moved in the direction of the garage. The scooter was there, mostly gassed up, and I’d made sure the box containing the helmets had been dropped out there too. “Come on.”
“No.” Hayley vehemently shook her head. “I’m not participating in whatever little mission you have decided we’re going on.”
“Yes, you are.”
