I hired a locksmith named Ramon Silva to replace the gate lock and reinforce the hinges.
Ramon was a friend of my brother’s and had repaired the back door when I first bought the house.
He examined the torn metal and whistled softly.
“Somebody wanted the entire latch off,” he said.
“This isn’t a kid kicking a gate.”
I showed him the photograph of Gwen with the hammer.
He looked at it without making a comment.
“I can make the gate stronger,” he said.
“I can’t make the person on the other side reasonable.”
He suggested motion lights above the side path and a lock I could open quickly during a fire.
I asked him to install both.
While he worked, a white delivery van pulled up outside Gwen’s house.
Two men carried long cardboard boxes into her garage.
Evan met them at the door and quickly pulled down the blinds.
I would not have noticed if Gwen had not stepped into my yard to block my view.
“You’re putting in more cameras?” she demanded.
Ramon kept working.
“I’m repairing damage to a client’s gate,” he said.
Gwen ignored him.
“Claire, you have a habit of making trouble over nothing.”
“The gate cost six hundred dollars to replace,” I replied.
“That is not nothing.”
She leaned closer.
“You don’t want Maya dragged into an investigation she can’t handle.”
Ramon straightened and placed the screwdriver on his tool bag.
“Ma’am, this is a private job site,” he said.
“Please step back.”
For once Gwen obeyed.
She crossed the strip of grass between our houses, but she did not go inside.
She stood beside her garage and watched us until Ramon finished.
Before leaving, he told me to write down the exact words she had used.
“It may matter later,” he said.
I made notes that evening and added them to a folder labeled DAMAGE.
The folder was already thicker than I wanted it to be.
I kept every receipt, every photograph, and every repair estimate.
My father had taught me that a person who preserved details could avoid wasting years arguing over memory.
He had been a city bus mechanic, not a lawyer, but he understood the value of a timestamp.
When Maya came home, she asked whether the new lights would help keep us safe.
I told her they would make it harder for someone to approach unseen.
I did not promise more than that.
