“You had better chairs.”
He almost laughed.
Months of lawyers.
Board recalls.
Records reviews.
And part of the explanation was better chairs.
Loretta looked ashamed.
“Power can make very stupid behavior feel important.”
Nathan nodded.
“That may be the smartest thing you've ever said to me.”
She looked at him.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“What?”
“The green.”
Nathan thought carefully.
“No.”
Loretta looked surprised.
“I expected to.”
“But when you showed up furious…”
He shrugged.
“I mostly wanted it finished.”
She nodded.
“It washed off in two days.”
“I know.”
“I kept thinking the color was the humiliation.”
“It wasn't.”
Nathan waited.
“The footage was.”
“Seeing myself walk through that gate like it belonged to me.”
Loretta swallowed.
“That was worse.”
Nathan understood.
Evidence had a way of removing stories people told themselves.
She extended a hand.
Nathan looked at it.
Then shook.
Not friendship.
Closure.
Loretta walked away.
Nathan returned to the bougainvillea.
Miriam appeared ten minutes later.
“You spoke to her.”
Nathan looked across the hedge.
“You watch too much.”
“I’m retired.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“She apologized.”
Miriam’s eyes widened.
“For real?”
“Mostly.”
“Did she explain the pool?”
“She liked the temperature.”
Miriam stared.
Then laughed so hard she had to hold the wall.
Nathan started laughing too.
For the first time, the whole situation actually felt finished.
The pool remained.
Same blue water.
Same tile.
Same chairs.
Nathan replaced the gate latch with a lock that could not be reached from outside.
The cameras stayed.
Not because he lived in fear.
Because they were useful.
One camera eventually caught a bobcat walking along the wall.
Another caught Miriam’s cat escaping at 2:00 a.m.
Miriam came over in pajamas.
Nathan saved that footage too.
“For legal purposes.”
He told her.
She threatened him with bodily harm.
Saturday coffee continued.
The HOA dues remained too high.
The clubhouse roof needed work.
Residents argued over landscaping.
Someone wanted pickleball lines painted on the tennis court.
Someone else claimed pickleball would destroy civilization.
Normal problems.
Nathan attended two board meetings a year now.
No more.
He had limits.
Three years after the pool incident, a new family moved into 9208.
The father knocked on Nathan’s door.
“Hey, weird question.”
Nathan immediately disliked the opening.
“What?”
“The realtor told us something about an old HOA president breaking into somebody’s pool.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“She didn't break in.”
“So it happened?”
“She entered without permission.”
“Was she really green?”
Nathan looked toward Miriam’s window.
Curtain moved.
She was listening.
Nathan said loudly:
“Unfortunately, completely green.”
Miriam opened her window.
“LIAR.”