And left without another word.
I watched her go.
The deputy approached.
"That was an interesting morning."
I looked toward the peach on the ground.
"Interesting is one word."
He almost smiled.
Then grew serious.
"That authorization document needs proper review."
"I agree."
"And if you're claiming the signature was fabricated, your attorney should make sure the relevant office receives a formal statement."
"He will."
The deputy looked toward the road where her SUV had disappeared.
Then back at me.
"One more thing."
"What's that?"
"Be careful."
I frowned.
"Why?"
He glanced toward the paperwork.
"Because this stopped looking like a disagreement over fruit a while ago."
He was right.
By noon, my attorney had a copy of the disputed document.
By three, he had contacted the relevant county office.
By the following morning, the HOA's construction plans were under additional scrutiny.
And within a week, the president's relationship with the landscaping consultant had become an issue inside Willow Creek Estates itself.
The retired accountant called me on Friday.
His voice was shaking with excitement.
"You won't believe what's happening."
I leaned against my kitchen counter.
"Try me."
"The board called an emergency meeting."
"What about?"
"The landscaping project."
I smiled faintly.
"That sounds promising."
He continued.
"The treasurer requested the full vendor file."
"And?"
"The president refused."
My smile disappeared.
"What did the board do?"
"They voted to authorize an independent review."
I looked toward the orchard.
"Good."
He lowered his voice.
"There's more."
I waited.
"Someone found a payment authorization that doesn't match the meeting minutes."
My attention sharpened.
"How much?"
"Sixty-eight thousand dollars."
I stared.
"For what?"
"Advance procurement."
"Of what?"
"Stonework and materials."
I looked toward the old wall.
"Has anything been delivered?"
"Not to the community."
He paused.
"And the vendor address leads to a warehouse owned by a company connected to her son's business partner."