The first time I met Patricia, she was standing outside my driveway holding a clipboard.
We had lived in Mesa Verde Estates for only six weeks.
She introduced herself as the HOA president.
Her blonde hair was perfectly straight.
Her clothes were expensive.
And her manner suggested she expected people to recognize her before she introduced herself.
She looked toward my house.
Then toward the garage.
Then at me.
“Daniel Brooks?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Patricia Voss. HOA president.”
I shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Her eyes traveled over my face.
Then toward the truck parked beside the garage.
It was an older white utility pickup I used for work.
The truck was clean but had a few dents from years of hauling tools and equipment.
Patricia pointed toward it.
“Do you plan to keep that vehicle here?”
I looked surprised.
“Yes.”
Her smile tightened.
“Commercial vehicles can be problematic.”
I nodded.
“I reviewed the community's vehicle restrictions before purchasing. This truck is within the applicable limits, and it isn't being stored on the street.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“Oh. You've read the rules.”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
As though I'd failed a test she expected to control.
Then she looked toward the side gate.
“I see you've been doing landscaping.”
I smiled.
“My daughter and I are building a garden.”
Patricia stared toward the backyard.
“Any irrigation modifications require appropriate approval.”
I nodded.
“I've already checked the requirements. The permitted work was handled by a licensed contractor.”
She seemed disappointed.
Then she handed me a business card.
“Well, if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.”
She started walking away.
Then stopped.
“One more thing, Mr. Brooks.”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“We take community standards very seriously.”
I smiled.
“So do I.”
She didn't smile back.
At the time, I thought she was simply strict.
I had no idea how quickly that strictness could become something ugly.
Two months later, the first warning arrived.