But he worried she had promised something she lacked authority to provide.
I looked toward the map.
Then asked whether I could keep a copy.
He nodded.
"Please do."
Before leaving, he placed one hand against my shoulder.
"You're an engineer. You know how dangerous it is when someone starts construction before checking what's actually there."
I laughed without humor.
"Yes."
He nodded toward the map.
"Well, this looks like the legal version of that."
The president's next visit came on a Thursday morning.
I was leaving for work when her white SUV stopped across my driveway.
She stepped out wearing a pink blazer and carrying a large leather folder.
I waited beside my vehicle.
She approached.
"I need you to sign something."
I looked at the folder.
"What is it?"
She produced a four-page document.
The heading read Temporary Emergency Access and Drainage Cooperation Agreement.
I examined the first section.
Then the second.
The language was broader than the title suggested.
It allowed the association and designated third parties to access the rear portion of my property for inspection, maintenance, improvement, and related development activities.
It also contemplated future documentation of permanent rights if the parties determined they were necessary.
I looked up.
"Who's the designated third party?"
She smiled.
"Approved contractors."
I pointed toward a paragraph.
"These rights could be assigned to another project entity."
Her smile tightened.
"That's standard language."
I shook my head.
"Not without identifying the parties and the scope."
She sighed dramatically.
"You're overcomplicating a simple safety agreement."
I looked toward her.
"Then why does it discuss future construction rights?"
For several seconds, she didn't answer.
Then she folded her arms.
"Because responsible communities plan ahead."
I handed the document back.
"I'll have my attorney review it."
Her face hardened.
"There's nothing to review."
I nodded toward the papers.
"Then you shouldn't mind."
She stepped closer.
"Do you know how many homeowners would be grateful to have the association handle these matters?"
I met her gaze.
"That's their decision."
She looked toward my house.
Then said something I would remember later.
"Some people don't appreciate what they've been given."
I felt a sudden coldness.
I had purchased the property using money I'd earned over years of work.
Nobody had given it to me.
But I wasn't going to let the conversation become an argument about whether I deserved to live there.
I simply answered.
"I won't be signing today."
She stared.
Then snatched the papers from my hand.
"You'll change your mind."
She got into her SUV.
And drove away.
I sent the agreement to my attorney.
Her response came the following afternoon.