I felt a knot forming in my stomach.
“You think she might be using something with my signature?”
“I don't know,” she answered. “That's what we need to establish.”
She advised me not to surrender the security code and to direct any purported contractual demand through counsel.
I agreed.
That evening, I checked the gate.
Tested the camera.
And spoke with my wife.
She was sitting beside the pool wearing a light summer dress, her feet resting on the stone decking.
Our daughter had already gone upstairs.
The water reflected the lights from the guesthouse.
For several minutes, we sat quietly.
Then my wife asked whether the president had contacted us again.
I nodded.
She sighed.
“What does she want now?”
“The code.”
My wife looked toward me.
“The private gate code?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
Then asked, “For what?”
“She claims the HOA needs emergency access.”
My wife shook her head.
“We haven't given them permission to use the pool.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the gate.
Then toward the house.
“I don't want strangers walking into our backyard.”
“Neither do I.”
She took my hand.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she said something that stayed with me.
“When we bought this house, I thought the hard part was earning enough to afford it.”
I smiled sadly.
“Me too.”
She looked toward the water.
“I didn't think we'd have to keep proving it was ours.”
I squeezed her hand.
“You shouldn't have to.”
She leaned against my shoulder.
Then whispered, “Please don't let her turn you into somebody you're not.”
I looked toward her.
She continued.
“I know you're angry. I'm angry too. But don't give her a reason to make you look like the aggressor.”
I nodded.
She was right.
The president wanted a confrontation.
Maybe she wanted me shouting at the gate.
Maybe she wanted me threatening her.
Perhaps she hoped I'd become angry enough to do something she could use against me.
I wasn't going to give her that.
The next afternoon, I finished a work call shortly after noon.
It was a hot Georgia day.
The kind that made the asphalt shimmer and the backyard pool look irresistible.
I changed out of my work clothes, put on swimming shorts, and spent twenty minutes in the water.
When I finished, I wrapped a beige towel around my waist and stepped toward the guesthouse porch to retrieve my phone.
My wife was inside preparing lunch.
Our daughter was upstairs.
Everything was peaceful.
Then the gate intercom rang.