His name was Neil Parker.
He spent almost two hours inspecting the trees.
He checked trunks.
Roots.
Canopies.
Lean.
Disease.
Ground conditions.
When he finished, I asked, “Anything dangerous?”
“Nothing requiring removal.”
“Healthy?”
“Mostly excellent for their age.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
He smiled.
“Already doing it.”
His written report stated that the trees were mature, stable, and showed no immediate condition requiring removal for public safety.
I sent it to Martin.
He replied, “Thank you.”
Vanessa said nothing.
For almost a month, the issue disappeared.
I thought perhaps somebody inside Silver Ridge had finally convinced her that private property remained private even when it interfered with a brochure.
Then Carol Bennett stopped me near the mailbox.
Carol lived directly across from the western side of my property.
She was in her mid-forties and, unlike Vanessa, had always been easy to talk to.
“Jack, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you agree to selective tree removal?”
I stopped.
“No.”
Her expression changed.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Vanessa told us the HOA was negotiating a view-restoration plan with you.”
“She told you wrong.”
Carol frowned.
“We approved twelve thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“The view corridor.”
“On my land?”