She wore a cream-colored blazer, black trousers, and expensive sunglasses.
Her blonde hair was perfectly styled.
Her smile seemed manufactured.
“Marcus Vale?”
I was carrying groceries from the SUV.
“Yes?”
“I'm Sandra Holt. HOA vice president.”
I nodded.
“Nice to meet you.”
She looked toward the Porsche.
“Interesting vehicle.”
I smiled.
“Thanks.”
Her lips tightened.
“We have standards here.”
I waited.
Then answered, “I'm glad.”
She seemed surprised.
“Glad?”
“Good neighborhoods usually have reasonable standards.”
Her expression changed.
For a moment, I thought she might smile genuinely.
Instead, she pointed toward the Porsche.
“Some vehicles attract the wrong kind of attention.”
I looked at the car.
It was parked neatly inside my driveway.
Clean.
Registered.
Insured.
Not blocking the sidewalk.
I turned back toward Sandra.
“What kind of attention?”
She gave a small shrug.
“People sometimes mistake expensive displays for permission to disregard community expectations.”
I stared.
For a moment, I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.
Then I laughed.
Not loudly.
Just a short, surprised sound.
Sandra's eyes narrowed.
“Something funny?”
I shook my head.
“No. I'm just trying to understand what you're concerned about.”
She looked toward the street.
Then back at the car.
“Community appearance.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She seemed annoyed that I wasn't arguing.
Then she handed me a small card.
“If you have questions, contact the board.”
I thanked her.
She turned.
Walked toward her SUV.
Then stopped.
“One more thing, Mr. Vale.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“People who move here usually understand that fitting in matters.”
I considered that.
Then answered politely.
“I'm here to live peacefully, Ms. Holt. I think we'll be fine.”
Her smile disappeared.
She got into her vehicle and drove away.
At the time, I dismissed the encounter as the behavior of an overly enthusiastic board member.
I had no idea it was the beginning of a month-long campaign.
Or that Sandra had already decided my Porsche was going to become her next demonstration of authority.
The first violation notice arrived forty-eight hours later.
I found it tucked inside my front door beneath an ordinary advertisement for landscaping services.
At the top was the Oakfield Estates logo.
Below it, in bold letters, were the words NOTICE OF COMMUNITY NONCOMPLIANCE.
The alleged violation was listed as improper driveway presentation.
I read the phrase three times.