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.

Adela Lambert’s granddaughter stopped at the curb in front of Ted, a plate of sugar cookies in hand. “Two for a dollar,” she yelled above the sound of the destruction.

Ted felt his pockets. No wallet. He laughed. “Can I get a couple on credit?”

The girl shook her head at him sadly, then walked on.

THE CROWDS HAD DISSIPATED BY THE TIME ALLISON FOUND NICK alone that afternoon. He was sitting in the now-silent bulldozer, gazing at Suzanne and Grant’s house. The sun was setting rather gloriously, as if it understood that it was witnessing the end of something.

Nick saw her approach and smiled, flirtatious. “Hey, beautiful.”

She leaned into the cab. He closed his eyes, readying for a kiss.

“Fraud!” she cried. And she pushed his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and laughed. “Happy new year to you too.”

“You tricked me.”

“They had mold.”

So he said, but who knew if that was even true? Suzanne had pulled her aside during the early, giddy part of the day, to tell her about the bathroom caulk and the black streaks under the kitchen sink. Suzanne, in CEO mode, told Cox to tear down walls “and keep on tearing” until he found the mother lode.

“You said—and I quote—‘I’m all about preserving what’s best about the town,’” Allison said.

“I am,” Nick said.

“It was an original Sears Modern Home.”

“Modern for what . . . 1920?” He looked disappointed. “I thought you got it.”

“Got what? What are you talking about?” Allison said.

“That old houses are obsolete. You agreed with me.”