She brought her two children, a large salad, and the kind of unsolicited advice only siblings can deliver without apology.
We ate grilled chicken on the patio.
The children played a board game beneath the shade structure.
And I tried to avoid discussing Patricia.
My sister refused to cooperate.
"Has that HOA woman bothered you again?"
I sighed.
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes.
"What now?"
"Apparently my pool is dangerous."
She looked toward the water.
It was clean and clear.
She stared.
"Because it's blue?"
I laughed.
"Something like that."
My sister shook her head.
"Does she do this to everybody?"
"Not everybody."
I thought about the other affected homeowners.
Then added, "But more people than I realized."
She studied my face.
Her expression became serious.
"Are you okay?"
I hesitated.
"Mostly."
She leaned forward.
"That doesn't sound convincing."
I looked toward the pool.
"I hate coming home wondering whether another letter is waiting."
She nodded.
"That's understandable."
I continued.
"I worked too hard to buy this place. I shouldn't feel like somebody else gets to decide whether I'm allowed to enjoy it."
My sister was quiet.
Then she asked, "Do you think race is part of it?"
I considered the question carefully.
Patricia had made comments that felt condescending.
She had questioned whether I truly owned the home.
She seemed surprised by the scale of my property and business.
And she had sometimes spoken to me differently from the way she addressed certain white homeowners.
But the suspected pool contamination incidents involved residents of different backgrounds.
I didn't want to reduce a complicated pattern of misconduct to a single motive without evidence.
"I think she doesn't like being questioned," I said.
My sister nodded.
"And she may have assumptions about who she thinks should live here."
I looked toward her.
"Maybe."
She continued.
"Either way, you don't have to prove what's inside her head before you stand up for yourself."
I smiled faintly.
"That's what the attorney said, minus the attitude."
My sister laughed.
Then looked toward the fence.
"Just be careful."
I nodded.
"I will."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"I know you can handle yourself."
I smiled.
"Thanks."
Her expression softened.
"But you shouldn't have to handle someone else's cruelty just because you can."
I looked toward her.
For a moment, the words stayed with me.