The first thing I noticed was not the missing ditc.......

“There’s no need to be emotional.”

The words hit harder than yelling would have.

Behind her, I saw wooden stakes with orange flags set near her side yard. A rectangle marked in paint. Foundation lines. Too close to my property line.

That was when I understood.

This had never been about beauty.

She wanted that drainage swale gone so her guest house could fit.

“Did the county approve this?” I asked.

Her eyes flickered.

Only once.

“There are processes underway.”

Bonita stepped beside me, her hand finding my wrist.

Constance smiled at her too.

“Your husband should check his documents before making accusations.”

I looked at the filled ditch, then at the orange foundation flags, then at the woman who thought laminated paper could erase a recorded drainage system.

“No,” I said quietly. “You should have checked mine.”

For the first time, her smile slipped.

Down the street, the sky was already darkening with the kind of Georgia storm that does not ask permission before proving a point.