Now she looked at him and lied.
Not because she was confused.
Because Craig had created a situation in which acknowledging Fletcher would require her to correct him.
Victoria preferred protecting the gatekeeper to protecting the resident.
She pressed the window control.
The Mercedes window rose.
Craig opened the side lane.
Victoria drove through.
But instead of continuing home, she parked just inside the gate.
She stayed.
That decision would become almost as important as the lie.
Three minutes later, Brenda appeared on foot.
She was wearing leggings, a gray T-shirt, and running shoes.
Her hair had been pulled back carelessly.
There was nothing polished about her.
She crossed the distance quickly.
“My name is Brenda Owens.”
Craig turned.
“I live at 1 Greystone Lane.”
She pointed toward Fletcher.
“That is my husband.”
Craig looked at Fletcher.
Then back at her.
“Open the gate.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“Brenda, let’s not make this worse.”
Brenda turned slowly.
“Worse?”
“We have procedures.”
“Victoria.”
“Security has a responsibility.”
“You know Fletcher.”
Victoria smiled stiffly.
“I know lots of people.”
“You sent us a welcome basket.”
“I send lots of baskets.”
“You stood in my foyer.”
Victoria said nothing.
Brenda continued:
“You told me the blue hydrangeas needed more shade.”
Craig glanced between them.
Brenda reached into her pocket.
Greystone resident identification card.
She held it toward Craig.
“Here.”
Craig took the card.
He looked at it longer than necessary.
Turned it over.
Checked the date.
“This could be expired.”
Brenda pointed.
“The expiration is printed on the front.”
Craig said nothing.
Brenda looked at Victoria.
“Tell him.”
Victoria adjusted her handbag.
“Brenda.”
“Tell him Fletcher lives here.”
“Let’s all calm down.”
“I am calm.”
People always told Brenda to calm down when what they actually meant was become easier to ignore.
Her voice sharpened.
“You approved the resident file yourself.”
Victoria’s lips tightened.
“I cannot reasonably be expected to remember every face in a thirty-six-home community.”
Brenda stared.
“Every face.”
Victoria looked away.
Craig stepped toward Fletcher’s window again.
His confidence had returned.
The HOA president had not corrected him.
That meant he believed he was winning.
“All right.”
Fletcher looked at him.
“I’ve been patient.”
Craig spread his feet.
“I have reasonable concern about this vehicle and about why you’re here.”
“You have the registration.”
“I need you to step out.”
“No.”
Craig blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You have no legal authority to search my vehicle.”
“This is private property.”
“That does not give you police powers.”
“You are refusing security instructions.”
“I am refusing an unauthorized search.”
Craig took another step.
“Step out of the car.”
Brenda took out her phone.
Pressed record.
Craig saw the red indicator.
“Put that away.”
“No.”
“You cannot film private security activity on private property.”
Brenda almost smiled.
“You should stop giving legal opinions.”
“I said put it away.”
“And I said no.”
She held the camera steady.
Victoria stepped slightly backward.