CHAPTER TWO — THE FIRST DOOR

Liam called the association’s president, Marianne Bell, four times before she answered.
She sounded exhausted.
“I am aware of the notices,” she said.
“Did you authorize them?”
“The board voted to address invasive landscaping.”
“Did the board vote for five hundred dollars a day?”
Silence stretched between them.
“I will need to review the minutes.”
“You were there.”
“So were thirty homeowners, Liam.”
He heard a cupboard door close on her end.
“I can come over after work,” she said.
“But do not ignore any deadline on that notice.”
Liam spent the afternoon photographing the garden from every angle.
He measured the width of the path, the distance from each shrub to the sidewalk, and the clear area around the water meter.
He did not plan to win the dispute by proving that flowers were beautiful.


He needed to disprove a specific accusation made under a specific rule.
At three, a contractor’s van stopped outside his house.
A man in a company polo shirt climbed out holding a tablet.
“I’m here to inspect your infestation,” he announced.
Liam remained on the porch.
“Who sent you?”
“GroundSafe Compliance.”
“I did not request an inspection.”
“The association did.”
The man raised his tablet toward the garden.
Liam could see a photograph already open on the screen.
It showed a patch of bare dirt beside a broken fence.
The caption read Mercer Residence, Active Infestation Zone.
“That isn’t my property,” Liam said.
The contractor glanced down.
“What?”
“That fence is chain link.”
“Mine is cedar.”
The man lowered the device.
“The address matches.”
“May I have your name?”
“Trevor.

”
“Then, Trevor, please photograph my actual garden and note that I disputed the picture you arrived with.”
Trevor hesitated before taking his own photographs.
He did not step off the public sidewalk.
“I only verify what dispatch sends,” he said.
“Who sends dispatch its photographs?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Because you don’t know, or because you aren’t allowed?”
Trevor looked back toward the van.
“I need this job,” he said quietly.
Liam stopped pressing him.
“Then please make sure the record shows what is here today.”
Trevor entered a note, accepted a glass of water, and left without issuing a citation.
At six, Marianne arrived carrying two canvas bags and wearing the same shoes she used at the medical billing office.
Iris joined them at the kitchen table.
Liam showed both women the contractor’s false picture.
Marianne pressed her hands together.
“I knew Brenda wanted an enforcement contract,” she said.
“I didn’t know she had already hired an outside company.”
“You approved the budget,” Iris said.
“I approved a study,” Marianne answered.
“We had a vote about whether the common areas could afford native plant maintenance, not a vote to seize houses.”
Liam placed the lien beside the June board agenda.
The agenda had no item called ARC Resolution 4-B.
It contained a line labeled Landscape Education and Volunteer Survey.
“Then who signed the resolution?” he asked.
Marianne examined the document and went pale.
The signature printed beneath the authorization was hers.
“I never signed this,” she said.
Liam watched her closely.
He wanted to believe her.
But a signature could be copied, and a frightened person could also deny what she regretted signing.
“Will you say that to the trustee?”
Marianne stared at him.
“I will say it to anyone who asks.”
“Then we need someone independent to ask,” Iris replied.
Marianne stood.
“There is something else.”
She opened one canvas bag and removed a thick envelope marked BOARD FINANCING PROPOSAL.
“Brenda says the association needs money for the clubhouse renovation.”
“We voted that project down,” Liam said.
“Twice,” Marianne answered.
“She has been meeting with a lender anyway.”
Iris leaned closer.
“What does our clubhouse have to do with a fine against a flower bed?”
Marianne removed a page covered in financial columns.
The words Assessment Receivables appeared at the top.
Underneath was a number larger than Liam expected.
Eight hundred and sixty thousand dollars.
Marianne touched the page.
“That is what Brenda claims the owners owe.”
For a moment the kitchen fell silent except for a ceiling fan turning above them.
Liam counted the houses on their little street in his head.
“How many people got these notices?”
“I don’t know,” Marianne admitted.
Iris unfolded her own envelope.
“Then tomorrow,” she said, “we start asking.”