Now, normally, I don’t care much about HOA stuff. Our little subdivision is small, maybe a dozen homes. And for the most part, the association only exists to manage shared road maintenance and keep people from turning their yards into junkyards. Nothing too dramatic. But Vanessa was different. You could tell from day one she had plans.
The first time we spoke was actually pretty friendly. I was out back trimming some shrubs when she walked up to the fence line. “Hi there,” she said with a bright smile. “You must be Luke.” “I’m Vanessa. I just moved into Carl’s old place. I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked over.
Welcome to the neighborhood, I told her. Carl was a good guy. You’ll like it here. She nodded politely, but I noticed her eyes drifting toward the retaining wall behind me. That wall had a way of doing that to people. She tilted her head slightly. So, that structure, she said, “Retaining wall?” I replied, “Right,” she said slowly. “Is that permanent?” I chuckled a little.
Well, unless gravity takes a vacation. Yeah. She didn’t laugh. Instead, she gave a tight little smile and said, “Internesting.” That was the end of the conversation. At the time, I didn’t think much about it, but about 3 weeks later, I opened my mailbox and found a certified letter. The return address said Caldwell Design Interiors.
Inside was a neatly typed document on expensive looking paper. It read like something written by someone who had spent a lot of time telling people what their home should look like. According to the letter, “My retaining wall was, and I quote, visually inconsistent with the aesthetic standards of the community.” Apparently, Vanessa had recently installed a new infinity style pool in her backyard, a project that, judging by the contractor trucks I’d seen, probably cost more than my entire landscaping business. And from her pool deck, she
