Suzanne and Grant sat on their couch on the front lawn alongside a heap of furniture. Suzanne sat bolt upright, like an engaged student, the opposite of Grant, who was wrapped in an afghan, possibly sleeping. Adam, on the frozen grass at their feet, was the happiest Ted had ever seen him. What better fun for a kid than to watch a bulldozer pull up at your house, prepared to, perhaps, eat it? It occurred to Ted that Suzanne and Grant might be doing it for Adam’s amusement, like the king in one of the fairy tales Jillian used to like, who was willing to do anything to make his youngest daughter laugh.

He didn’t blame Grant and Suzanne—Nick Cox had clearly been the instigator. He was obviously the force behind the felled Christmas tree as well, though no eyewitnesses had come forward. All anyone knew was that the lights on the tree had been off for about a half hour during the public hearing, presumably while the tree cutter sawed at the base in the dark.

Cox had arrived at the moratorium hearing late and left early, giving him plenty of time to cut down the tree. Or maybe one of his minions had done it while he testified. Nothing seemed to be happening at the White Elephant these days, though houses already under construction before the moratorium were grandfathered. Rumor had it that Cox had run out of money, a thought that made warm feelings rise up in Ted. He pictured Nick being evicted from his grand house, couches and televisions piled on the curb, a scene not unlike the one before him.

The destruction of the holiday tree was just one of a series of recent outrages in town. Muddy rocks had been left in mailboxes, and recycling bins had been upturned on lawns. So many signs had been ripped up that the town had issued an order to remove them all; and the little trees were still being cut down, ripped out of the ground, pushed over, left for dead. They were up to thirty-one now.

Meanwhile, Cox pretended to be on the side of justice. He’d joined the Moratorium Implementation Committee, the very committee Ted was on, and he made a big year-end contribution to the playground fund, sticking a red, white, and blue COX DESIGN AND BUILD sign in the ground lest anyone forget who owned it.

Ted called Terrance two or three times a day to check on him. “You doin’ all right, bro?” he would say, and Terrance would say, bravely, that he was fine.

What would Terrance do when he found out the Davenport-Gardners’ house had been decimated? It might put him over the edge. He might go to bed and decide not to get up for work in the morning, which would mean a sure and sudden end to the nursing home job. Ted had a terrible image of his brother spending all day, every day, watching television, his self-confidence sinking into the sofa cushions.