By August the visits had increased to five afternoons a week, and by September I could identify seventeen occasions when people had used the pool while I was away. The pool season ended in September. On a cool afternoon, I met Sandra at the fence to make the next year's arrangement clear. I explained that I had initially agreed to occasional swimming with her present, that she had brought uninvited guests, allowed people onto the property while I was absent, and apparently found ways to open the gate without asking. I told her the arrangement had not worked and would be substantially limited if it continued at all.
"I thought you were more open to sharing," she said.
"Sharing is something the owner decides to do," I answered. "It isn't something a neighbor can schedule without the owner's knowledge."
Sandra folded her arms. She said the children loved the water and that she disliked making them feel unwelcome in their own neighborhood. I pointed out that they were welcome in the neighborhood and that swimming in my private backyard was a separate question. She looked offended, as though distinguishing between two properties were an unnecessary personal insult. Eventually she said she understood. We ended the conversation without shouting, which at the time I counted as a success.
There were no dramatic incidents through October and November. The weather cooled, Rosa prepared the pool for the closed season, and I began spending my evenings indoors with soup and books instead of sitting on the patio. I replaced the gate lock once more as a precaution and repaired a loose section of fence that had weathered badly. Sandra and I exchanged brief greetings when we collected mail. If somebody had asked whether there was a problem between us, I would have said there had been a misunderstanding and that I hoped it was finished.
In December, the children brought me a holiday card. Olivia had drawn a blue swimming pool beneath a green Christmas tree, apparently deciding that seasons were advisory rather than binding. Henry had added a small dog, although neither household owned one. I thanked them and set the card on my mantel. Their affection was real, and so was my discomfort with the situation their mother had created. I wanted them to remember me as a friendly neighbor, not the woman who stood at the fence and argued with their mother.
That wish influenced too many decisions. I can see it more clearly now. I was trying to protect the children from a conflict that existed because an adult repeatedly disregarded reasonable instructions. In doing so, I left the boundary less certain than it should have been. I did not create Sandra's entitlement, but I allowed the ambiguity that gave it room to grow.