The wall made the point without language.
One afternoon, Victoria drove past while Garrett was planting native grasses around the base.
She slowed.
Garrett expected her to keep going.
Instead, she stopped.
Window lowered.
“Garrett.”
He stood.
“Victoria.”
For a few seconds, neither knew what came next.
Then she said:
“The board issued the notice.”
“I saw.”
“I’m not challenging the wall.”
“All right.”
She looked toward it.
“You really spent all that money because of a shortcut.”
Garrett wiped dirt from his gloves.
“No.”
Victoria waited.
“I spent it because the gate stopped meaning anything to you.”
She looked at him.
“That’s dramatic.”
“Maybe.”
“You could have just kept it locked.”
“I did.”
“You could have called the sheriff.”
“I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Garrett thought about that.
“Because I didn’t want a criminal case over a road.”
Victoria looked surprised.
“You could have made one.”
“Probably.”
“Then why not?”
“I wanted you to stop.”
He gestured toward the gate.
“You did.”
Victoria looked along the wall.