“You left trash.”
“We cleaned.”
“I filled two bags afterward.”
She waved one hand.
“Cole, you have to understand something.”
“I doubt it.”
“Willowbrook residents pay premium prices because of the natural environment around the development.”
“So?”
“Your farm contributes to that environment.”
“My farm contributes to my farm.”
“You benefit from Willowbrook too.”
“How?”
“Property values.”
“I’m not selling.”
“Security.”
“I have dogs.”
“Road improvements.”
“Different road.”
She sighed.
“This is exactly your problem.”
“My problem?”
“You refuse to think collaboratively.”
I stared at her.
“You cut through my fence.”
“Nobody cut anything.”
“Someone pulled it apart.”
“That happens.”
“Not by itself.”
She lifted her chin.
“Can you prove an HOA member did it?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Cameras.”
I let the word hang.
Karen recovered quickly.
“Fine. If something was damaged, submit an invoice.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No, Cole.”
She leaned forward.
“You are.”
“This huge unused field sits beside hundreds of families.”
“It is not unused.”
“It’s grass.”
“It’s grazing land.”
“Not that section.”
“You don’t know what that section is used for.”
“I know I never see cattle there.”
I placed both hands on her desk.
“Listen carefully.”
Her smile vanished.
“This farm is private property.”
“I understand.”
“No. You don’t.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Then there will be no picnic Saturday.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You can’t dictate HOA programming.”
“On my property, I can.”
“Our board has already approved it.”
“Then your board approved trespassing.”
“That’s your interpretation.”
“It’s the sheriff’s too if you want me to ask.”
She sat back.
“Are you threatening me with law enforcement?”
“I’m explaining options.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“I think you enjoy being difficult because it makes you feel important.”
