On the fourth day, the exposed strip of bank became visible beneath several floating docks. An elderly visitor stood at the edge of one platform, comparing the waterline to the mark it had left on a post. He asked me whether I worked for the resort as I walked along the public-facing access area with my attorney's permission. I told him I lived nearby and that the reservoir was undergoing a managed maintenance drawdown. He asked how long it would last.
"Long enough that you should speak to the rental office before planning a boat trip," I said. He looked toward his cabin and frowned. "They didn't mention that when we booked." I told him the association had been notified before the operation began. He thanked me, not warmly, and walked away. I watched him go, wishing the problem could be resolved without more people discovering that they had been sold a promise somebody else could not keep.
By August 8, the lower water level was impossible to ignore. Gaps appeared beneath the floating dock ramps, the boat launch needed attention, and the edge of the beach had retreated far enough to reveal stones that had been underwater for decades. Resort guests clustered outside the welcome center asking whether the lake was drying up. Some wanted refunds; others wanted to know if swimming was still safe. Hannah looked exhausted when I saw her through the glass doors, and I recognized the expression of an employee who had been given responsibility without authority.
Garrett called that afternoon. His number appeared without a name on my phone, but I recognized his voice immediately. He asked whether the dam had developed a leak. When I told him the drawdown was deliberate and part of an approved inspection program, he went quiet. Then he asked whether I had any idea how many reservations he had for the rest of the summer.
"I know how many cabins you built," I answered. "One hundred and nine. All on land you don't own." Garrett said the lakefront operation was a major source of revenue for the community and that draining the lake would devastate both the association and the private investors.
He called my conduct sabotage. I reminded him of the survey, the maintenance notice, and his refusal to discuss removing the structures. Then I told him that any question about the lake's operation should go through David and the engineers.
"You can't keep it low forever," he said. "A judge will make you put the water back." I told him the inspection had an actual schedule and would continue as long as the approved work and necessary repairs required. I would not promise a refill date simply to satisfy an illegal resort's booking calendar.
He threatened a lawsuit worth tens of millions of dollars, then accused me of trying to ruin innocent families. I thought of the little boy with the yellow raft and said that I did not want anybody hurt. The best way to stop the dispute, I added, was to address the ownership problem he had refused to take seriously.
"We're not tearing down twelve million dollars of buildings because you want a better view," Garrett snapped. I was standing on the porch where Helen used to read in the evenings, and I looked directly at the opposite shoreline. "This was never about my view," I said. "It was about permission." He hung up without saying goodbye.