“GET OUT OF THAT POOL! YOU PEOPLE DON'T BELONG HERE!”
The woman in the bright-orange designer pantsuit screamed so loudly that my eight-year-old daughter stopped swimming in the middle of our backyard.
Ava had been laughing only seconds earlier. Now she was staring at the stranger standing beside the water, her small hands frozen against the surface.
I stood chest-deep in the pool, wearing a soaked navy-blue T-shirt and black swimming trunks. My sister Naomi was on the opposite side of the patio, carrying a white towel she'd just brought from the house.
For a moment, I genuinely thought the woman had entered the wrong property.
“Ma'am,” I said, keeping my voice calm, “this is a private residence. Who are you looking for?”
She stepped closer to the edge.
She was white, perhaps forty-eight, with perfectly straight shoulder-length blonde hair, expensive makeup, sharp blue eyes, and gold hoop earrings that flashed beneath the Arizona sun. Her fitted orange blazer and matching trousers looked as though they'd been selected specifically to make her impossible to ignore.
Under one arm she held a black leather folder bearing a large gold emblem.
In her other hand was a smartphone.
She pointed it directly at me.
“Don't pretend you don't know what's happening. I'm Caroline Whitmore, president of the Canyon Crest Estates Homeowners Association.”
I glanced toward the wrought-iron gate behind her.
It was supposed to be locked.
“Then you're on the wrong property,” I replied.
Her mouth tightened.
“Excuse me?”
“This house isn't part of Canyon Crest Estates.”
She laughed.
It was a short, ugly sound.
“Oh, please. I've been president of this association for six years. I think I know which homes belong in my neighborhood.”
Ava began moving toward me.
“Daddy?”
I turned immediately.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
She swam the short distance between us, and I wrapped one arm around her.
Caroline pointed toward my daughter.
“And that child shouldn't be using this pool either. I haven't authorized any visitors.”
For a moment, I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“Visitors?”
“Yes. Visitors.”
I looked toward our house.