My stomach sank.
He continued.
"We need to make sure the contamination is properly addressed, the equipment hasn't been affected, and the water meets the appropriate conditions before anyone swims."
I nodded.
"Understood."
He gave me a written description of the proposed cleanup and explained what documentation he'd provide afterward.
I looked at the estimate.
It was nowhere near eighteen thousand six hundred dollars.
That didn't mean every expensive remediation claim was automatically fraudulent. Different conditions required different services, and some genuine contamination events could be costly.
But the difference between a transparent professional assessment and the former president's prewritten invoice was impossible to ignore.
The technician looked toward the house.
"Your daughter okay?"
I swallowed.
"Upset."
He nodded.
"I'm sorry."
I looked toward the pool.
"Me too."
Then he said something that stayed with me.
"This is the kind of thing nobody should ever have to deal with in their own backyard."
I nodded.
He was right.
And I was beginning to realize that several other homeowners might have dealt with something very similar.
That night, after our daughter went to bed, my wife and I sat at the kitchen table.
The blue birthday decorations were still arranged in neat piles beside the window.
The cake would arrive the following morning.
The friends had already been invited.
And the pool party our daughter had imagined was no longer possible.
My wife looked exhausted.
"I don't want her birthday to become another story about that woman."
I nodded.
"Neither do I."
She looked toward the decorations.
"Maybe we can still have everybody come."
I considered that.
"We could move the celebration indoors."
She nodded slowly.
"Pizza, music, movies. Maybe games in the backyard, away from the pool."
I smiled faintly.
"She did want a movie."
My wife looked toward the sliding glass doors.
Then she said, "We should keep the pool area closed off until the work is finished."
"Absolutely."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she reached across the table.
"Promise me you won't let this consume you."
I looked toward her.
She continued.
"I know you want answers. I want them too. But our daughter's birthday is tomorrow."
I took her hand.
"You're right."
She smiled sadly.
"We'll deal with the rest afterward."
I nodded.
But as we began rearranging the party plans, my phone vibrated.
It was a message from the new HOA president.
She had just finished reviewing the transition documents with the association's management office.