"Lamont, please." He came in, and stopped just inside the door, and I watched him do what every first-time visitor does, which is look for something. People expect an off-grid house to look different. They expect a woodstove and oil lamps and a composting toilet. What they get is a regular three-bedroom house in Calder Springs with a ceiling fan turning and a fridge humming and the television on mute showing the Astros pregame. Lamont looked at the television for a long moment as if it might be a trick.
"I'll be honest with you," he said, once we were sitting at the kitchen table with iced tea. "I voted for the first fine. Glenda presented the photograph of the extension cord and the meter, and it seemed reasonable enough. I didn't vote on the second. I abstained. And I did not know anything about this, ah, removal of property until it had already happened. Glenda informed the board by email Wednesday night. After the fact."
"Is she allowed to do that?"
"The Declaration says the Board may authorize self-help. It does not say the president may authorize it by herself." He turned his glass on the table. "I'm the one who brought up the electric bill in the first place, you understand. Back in May. I've been doing the books for this association for six years, and the amenity center bill has never moved more than ten or fifteen percent, and suddenly in April it jumped nearly a thousand dollars. I asked about it at the May meeting. Glenda said she'd look into it. In June, she came back and told the Board she'd identified a likely source. You."
"Did she say why?"
"She said you had no meter, and the co-op confirmed you had no account. She said you were an electrician."
"Lineworker."
"I'm afraid that distinction was lost on most of the board." He looked up at me. "I don't know what to believe, Ms. Sundquist. That's the truth. I came over because I've been doing numbers for a long time and the numbers don't feel right to me. And because I'd rather ask you a stupid question in your kitchen than vote on something stupid in public."
I liked him right then. I liked him a lot.
"Ask me anything you want," I said. "Then I'll show you."
He asked a lot. What happens on cloudy days? Batteries, and if it's cloudy long enough, the propane generator. How was this different from the Bensons on Primrose, who had solar? So I explained net-zero and off-grid, the same way I've explained it to you. My house has no wire running to it. Not a disconnected wire. No wire. The service line is lying in the ground connected to nothing at either end.
Then I took him into the utility room.