Nobody moved.
The homeowner went inside.
Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the office.
Not fear.
Anger.
The documents were easy to find.
She had purchased the property six years earlier and had kept every closing document in a labeled fireproof file box.
Title.
Plat.
Survey.
Easements.
Architectural approvals.
Drainage documents.
She removed the recorded boundary survey.
Then sat at her desk and opened the city permit portal on her computer.
She searched the HOA name.
Three active permits appeared.
Storm-drain repair.
Clubhouse electrical upgrade.
Traffic-control bollard installation.
She clicked the third.
Permit status:
Approved.
Applicant:
HOA management company.
Project location:
Cedar Ridge Visitor Parking Area B.
Not her address.
She stared.
Opened the site drawing.
Eight bollards.
Not twenty-five.
Eight.
Installed along the western edge of the visitor lot.
Across the street.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Anger sharpened into clarity.
She printed the permit summary.
Printed the site plan.
Then downloaded both to her phone.
Before leaving the office, she did one more thing.
She called the city permitting department.
The receptionist answered.
The homeowner explained.
“An HOA contractor is installing traffic-control bollards across my private driveway using a permit that appears to belong to the HOA visitor lot across the street.”
Pause.
“Your address?”
She gave it.
The receptionist typed.
Then:
“There’s no active right-of-way obstruction permit at your parcel.”
“I know.”
“What company?”
She looked outside through the window and read the truck name.
The receptionist said:
“I’m sending this to field inspection.”
“How long?”
“Inspector is already in that district.”
“Please tell them they’re drilling now.”
“I will.”
The homeowner printed one more copy.
Then went outside.
Two more neighbors had appeared.
One stood beside a mailbox.
Another pretended to walk a dog.
The HOA president was talking rapidly to the foreman.
When she saw the homeowner, she stopped.
The homeowner held up the permit.
“Here.”
The president did not reach for it.
“What?”
“The permit.”
She stepped closer.
“You said the project was modified.”
“It was.”
The homeowner pointed toward the first page.
“This permit says Visitor Parking Area B.”
The president’s expression did not change.
“Supplemental field changes don’t always appear online immediately.”