The next morning, the engineer called the president.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"What now?"
He looked toward the paused security video.
"I have footage of you entering my backyard."
There was a long silence.
Then she laughed.
"Oh, please."
He continued.
"Twice. At night."
She said nothing.
"I also have footage of you bringing guests into my pool."
Her voice sharpened.
"Those were association activities."
The engineer closed his eyes briefly.
"My pool is not an association amenity."
She sighed.
"You're being unreasonable."
He looked toward the little mosaic star on the screen.
"Did you charge those women money to swim here?"
A pause.
Then she laughed again.
"That's an absurd accusation."
He remained calm.
"Then why did one of them ask whether it was included in a premium membership?"
The woman stopped laughing.
For several seconds, the line was silent.
Then she spoke.
"You're recording private conversations?"
He stared.
"The conversations took place in my backyard, which you entered without permission."
Her voice became cold.
"You should be very careful about how you use those recordings."
He took a slow breath.
"Are you denying that you entered?"
The president ignored the question.
"Some of us spend our time improving the community rather than looking for ways to cause trouble."
He looked toward the camera footage.
Then answered.
"Please don't enter my property again."
She laughed bitterly.
"You don't get to dictate association policy."
He remained quiet.
Then said.
"If you believe the association has lawful access rights, send the documents through counsel."
The woman hung up.
The engineer stared at the phone.
He had given her an opportunity to explain.
She did not.
Instead, she tried to make him feel guilty for recording strangers using his pool.
For a moment, he felt exhausted.
Then his daughter called from her grandmother's house.