Sawyer had just finished scrubbing fertilizer off her hands when the HOA email hit her inbox with that annoying ding sound.
Subject line: Violation Notice: Unapproved Landscaping Activity
She zoomed in on the attached photo. It was a pixelated image of Blake Patterson’s front shrubs – as if the camera had a personal vendetta against hedges. She hated that the HOA sent blast emails to everybody about one person’s violation. It was a humiliation tactic, and it made her dislike the HOA even more. It was a joke in the neighborhood, though, so she wasn’t lathered up about it.
She texted Blake.
Did you forget to bow to the HOA before trimming your boxwoods?
Blake, who had the unfortunate trait of believing the HOA operated with logic, had simply hired a guy from from an ad on Next Door to do some light yard work. He didn’t realize his choice of trimmer length would spark a turf war.
Kyle McArthur, the HOA president and part-time shrub detective, claimed the height of the new bushes “interfered with visual cohesion.”
Blake texted back, “Kyle scheduled a hearing. A shrub hearing. Lol”
Sawyer rolled her eyes and half-laughed while replying, “lol what a colossal waste of time”
Later, Cheryl called and said she was convinced the “hearing” was code for something else.
“They’re covering something up,” she said. “All these violations are distractions. Did you see how quickly they shut down my email about the irrigation scandal?”
Sawyer didn’t have time to explain that Cheryl’s “scandal” was actually just a broken sprinkler.
She had bigger concerns. A new email had just arrived.
This one from Karen Hale Talent Agency.
Sawyer — I’d love to chat this week. I’ve got some leads for all three Cavaliers. Call me.
All three? Even Russo? The one who swallowed a hot dog whole last week and puked for three consecutive nights in her bed?
She glanced at the couch. Riggins was upside down. Russo was chewing on a sock. Rafa was staring at the ceiling fan like it owed him money.
“You guys better not screw this up,” she giggled, knowing they probably would.
Down the street, Blake had apparently decided he was done playing nice. He walked straight to Kyle’s door and knocked like he was bringing hellfire and brimstone.
Sawyer watched from the front window, half-horrified, half-impressed.
“It’s a damn bush, man,” Blake shouted.
“It’s a visual obstruction,” Kyle replied calmly, clipboard in hand.
“You’re a visual obstruction.”
Sawyer laughed out loud. Grown men arguing about shrub height. It was like HOA kindergarten.
By sunset, a second violation notice was taped to Blake’s door like a scarlet letter.
Unauthorized Confrontational Behavior — Category 4.
Sawyer poured herself a cup of white peach tea and walked outside to see the beautiful sky for a moment. She always checked for clouds that looked like any of her previous Cavaliers, Rudy, Chili, and Riley. They were gone now, but she always sensed their presence. They were her boys, and they were good boys. And she missed them.
Cheryl was still across the street with her binoculars, talking to no one.
“They’re getting sloppy,” she said loud enough for Sawyer to hear. “You know what sloppy means.”
Sawyer didn’t. But the dogs did.
Riggins had taken up his pacing position at the back fence again. Russo had vanished completely. Rafa was barking at the pantry like the pretzels had personally insulted him.
Sawyer sighed. She was going to need more tea.
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