I spent that evening examining the property damage estimate that the independent engineer had begun assembling. He needed more surveys before assigning a final reconstruction cost, but it was already clear that replacing the dam safely would require far more than stacking the old limestone back where we remembered it. Modern fish passage, sediment control, environmental review, and appropriate downstream protections would all be part of any approved design. The cost would be considerable, and some of the original workmanship could never be reproduced exactly.
Autumn called from her honeymoon that night. Behind her voice I could hear the clatter of restaurant dishes and the cheerful noise of strangers who had no idea what Willowbrook Estates was. She asked first about the creek, then whether I had eaten, then whether I had slept more than three hours. Finally she said, "Dad, I need to know you're not turning this into the only thing you have left."
I stood by the kitchen window looking toward the dark water. "I'm not."
"You said that after Mom died, when you spent six months repairing the barn. You were always busy because you didn't want to sit still with what happened."
I could have argued with her. Instead I remembered the sound of Lillian's empty chair scraping against the floor when I moved it out of the way, and I knew she was right. "I'll eat dinner," I said. "And tomorrow I'll go to the doctor for my knee like I promised."
"And you'll let Marlo handle the lawyer things?"
"As much as she's willing to let me."
"Good. I love you. We'll be home Sunday."
After we hung up, I took a plate of leftovers from the refrigerator and ate at the table where I had spent the entire day studying other people's dishonesty. It tasted like nothing, but I finished it. Autumn was right about the danger of letting a fight become a substitute for living. My grandfather had built the dam so people downstream could sleep. He had not built it so his grandson could spend every remaining evening inventing increasingly elaborate ways to punish a neighbor.
The following week, Willowbrook held a special meeting about flood cleanup. The room was packed with residents carrying photographs of damage to the common walking trail, the garden shed, and several basement entrances that had required urgent protective work. Cordelia was absent, claiming she needed to attend to legal matters. Brantley appeared long enough to announce that the board was exploring all available avenues to recover losses from the upstream property owner.
Dalton stood and asked whether the association intended to recover damages from the same person whose dam its president had ordered demolished. He held up a photograph of the excavator with Cordelia standing beside it. There was an audible stir around the room, and a woman in the front row asked why she had not been told the demolition was disputed at the time.