Then:
“Show me.”
The HOA president smiled.
“I don’t carry official originals around the neighborhood.”
“You just said you have a permit.”
“We do.”
“Show me the permit number.”
“It’s on file.”
The homeowner looked toward the foreman.
“Do you have it?”
He glanced down at his packet.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The HOA president turned sharply.
“You don’t need to provide internal project documents to a resident.”
The foreman looked at her.
Then at the homeowner.
The homeowner asked:
“Does your permit list my address?”
He hesitated.
The HOA president answered for him.
“It covers the streetscape improvement area.”
The homeowner immediately noticed the wording.
Not yes.
Not her address.
Area.
The foreman said quietly:
“We were given a site map.”
“Show me.”
The president stepped between them.
“This is an HOA contractor.”
The homeowner looked at her.
“He is drilling holes in my land.”
“The HOA hired him.”
“And I own this driveway.”
The president’s expression hardened.
“You own the residence.”
“I own the lot.”
“Subject to easements.”
“Yes.”
“And restrictions.”
“Yes.”
“And association authority.”
“Not authority to build a fence out of steel posts across my garage.”
The younger worker looked away to hide a smile.
The president noticed.
Her face tightened.
“This isn’t a fence.”
The homeowner looked at the twenty-five yellow posts laid out like giant pencils.
“Then I’m sure my SUV will squeeze through them.”
The younger worker coughed.
The president ignored him.
“The barriers prevent unauthorized vehicle movement across a pedestrian-control zone.”
The homeowner slowly turned toward the street.
Her driveway crossed the public sidewalk exactly like every other driveway on the block.
“What pedestrian-control zone?”
“The board approved one.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“When?”
“At the last infrastructure meeting.”
“I was at the last infrastructure meeting.”
That stopped her.
The homeowner continued:
“You approved bollards for the visitor overflow lot across the street.”
Silence.
The foreman looked toward the opposite side of the neighborhood entrance.
There, about seventy feet away, stood a narrow HOA-owned parking strip beside a landscaped drainage area.
For months, delivery vans and contractors had cut through the grass beside it.
The board had discussed installing bollards along that lot.
The president recovered.