I declined.
Then she offered $225,000.
I declined again.
Then came a letter saying Cedar Ridge was “reviewing historical access rights affecting surrounding parcels.”
I handed it to my attorney, Rachel Collins.
Rachel replied with one page.
No easement.
No access rights.
No discussion.
That should have ended it.
Apparently, it had only changed Trish’s strategy.
The volunteer folded her arms.
“You should probably speak with Patricia.”
“I probably should.”
“She’s at the clubhouse.”
“Call her.”
The woman hesitated.
“I don’t have her personal—”
A golf cart appeared from behind my barn.
Two men rode in front.
A woman sat in back.
White linen pants.
Burgundy blouse.
Huge sunglasses.
Patricia Kessler.
She spotted me.
Even from fifty yards away, I saw her posture change.
The golf cart stopped.
She stepped down slowly.
“Jack.”
“Trish.”
“You’re back early.”
That was an interesting sentence.
Not hello.
Not we tried contacting you.
