“Then you understand why you need to leave.”
“I understand the policy. I'm asking why you believe it applies to me.”
Her face flushed.
“Because I have never seen you here before.”
A few of the neighbors exchanged glances.
Marcus looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said, “You've never seen me before, so you decided I don't belong here?”
“Don't twist my words.”
“I'm trying to understand them.”
“You know exactly what I'm saying.”
“I don't.”
The woman stepped closer, her finger now pointed directly at his chest.
“People like you come into communities like this all the time, pretending they have business here. You think if you act confident enough, everyone will simply let you stay.”
The words landed with a weight that changed the atmosphere around them.
The older man in the blue windbreaker lowered his phone. One of the women recording stopped whispering. Ethan's eyes flickered toward his mother, and for the first time, his expression looked less uncertain than uncomfortable.
Marcus remained seated.
He had learned over many years that the person who shouted loudest often expected everyone else to surrender the room. He had also learned that responding to every insult rarely improved the situation.
He folded his hands loosely over his knee.
“What's your name?”
The woman seemed momentarily surprised.
“Excuse me?”
“Your name.”
“Victoria Hale.”
“Ms. Hale, I'm Marcus Reed.”
“I didn't ask for your name.”
“I thought introductions might help.”
“I know who you are.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“Do you?”
She ignored the question.
“I'm the president of the neighborhood association. I know the rules here, and I know when someone is trying to take advantage of them.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me which rule I've violated.”
“You don't live here.”
Marcus glanced toward the homes beyond the pool.
“Which house do you believe I live in?”
“I don't care where you live.”
“That's a curious answer from someone who says she's enforcing a residential access policy.”
Victoria's jaw tightened.
Ethan shifted the bat from one hand to the other.
“Mom, maybe we should just call the manager,” he said.
Victoria turned on him.
“Don't interrupt.”
“I just thought—”
“I said don't interrupt.”
He fell silent.
Marcus watched the exchange, then looked back at Victoria.
“Calling the manager seems reasonable.”
“I am the manager of this situation.”
“No,” Marcus replied calmly. “You're the association president. Those are different roles.”