We agreed the documents should be reviewed by independent professionals and the appropriate authorities.
I made copies of everything.
Then contacted my attorney.
He reviewed the new information.
After several minutes of silence, he looked at me.
"This is potentially serious."
"I know."
"But we need to separate what we can prove from what we suspect."
I nodded.
He continued.
"We can prove your recorded boundary."
"Yes."
"We can prove the HOA submitted a conflicting plan."
"Yes."
"We can prove there have been payments to certain vendors."
"Yes."
"We can prove the president has repeatedly entered the disputed area and taken fruit."
"Yes."
He tapped the documents.
"What we cannot yet prove is why."
I leaned back.
"So what do we do?"
"We preserve evidence. We notify the appropriate county offices. We request the underlying project approvals and corporate disclosures. And we make sure no construction begins on your land."
I nodded.
He studied me.
"And one more thing."
"What?"
"Do not let her provoke you into doing something foolish."
I smiled faintly.
"That seems to be her favorite hobby."
"Then disappoint her."
I intended to.
But there was still the problem of the peaches.
By then, fruit theft had become almost a ritual.
The president appeared before sunrise several times each week.
Sometimes she took only one peach.
Sometimes several.
Once she picked an entire small branch and tossed it into the walkway shrubs.
I had sent written warnings.
I had documented the incidents.
I had made a police report.
And she continued.
One afternoon, I was working with a food-safe hot pepper mixture on a separate section of my garden.
I occasionally experimented with ingredients used in homemade wildlife deterrents, although I knew such treatments required care around edible plants.
The mixture contained culinary chili seasoning diluted in water.
It wasn't designed to injure anyone.
It was spicy enough to make an unwashed sample unpleasant to taste.