As our automobiles were towed away, she grinned, certain that she had prevailed in a local conflict. However, she was standing on her porch the following morning, stunned, confronted with a $25,000 error she would never forget.
The house had only been occupied for one night by Jack and me. The rental was a modest one-story home nestled in a peaceful suburb. Bricks of tan. green shutters. an uneven lawn that appeared to have been neglected since the spring.
We only had a short-term job assignment here. Nothing permanent. Nothing noteworthy.
The doorbell rang just as we were unpacking the coffee machine.
Jack moaned. “The curtains aren’t even up yet.”
I looked through the peephole. “Well, it appears that the Welcome Committee has arrived.”
Looking out the window, a woman | Source: Pexels
He took a quick look. “Oh no. She has cookies in her hand.
I pulled the door open.
A woman wearing white capri trousers, a pastel pink cardigan, and a matching headpiece was standing there. She had a lovely smile, but what about her eyes? Too busy to be distributing baked goods.
“Hello there!” she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. “My name is Lindsey. My residence is directly across the street. I just wanted to say hey and stop by!
A dish of cookies was held out by her. They were chocolate chip. perfect rows. There is not a crumb missing.
I accepted the tray and said, “Well, thank you.” “That’s really nice.”
Jack waved languidly at her. “Thank you.”
Her eyes continued to dart behind us, but her smile remained fixed. above my shoulder. Next, over Jack’s.
She leaned slightly, like she was trying to peek inside.
I stepped to the side. Her gaze traveled down our hallway. Then back toward the living room.
“You folks settling in okay?” she asked, blinking fast.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Just moved in yesterday.”
A suspicious woman on her porch | Source: Midjourney
“Such a lovely area,” she said, her eyes darting back to the doorframe. “Quiet. Clean. Very…orderly.”
Jack crossed his arms. “We’re just here for work. Shouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Oh, I’m sure!” she said, her tone a little too bright. “Just wanted to say welcome. And one quick thing…”
I could feel it coming. That shift from cookies to complaints.
A mature woman with a fake smile | Source: Pexels
“Our HOA—very friendly, but firm—has a rule about cars,” she said. “Only one per household in the driveway.”
I blinked. “One car?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone tightening. “No exceptions. Keeps the neighborhood looking nice and tidy.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “But we’re not parking on the street. Both cars fit on the driveway just fine.”
A serious man on a black backdrop | Source: Pexels
“I know,” she said with a little head tilt. “But it’s still two cars. One house. One driveway. One car.”
“We’re just here temporarily,” I said. “Not permanent residents.”
She smiled wide. “Rules apply to everyone. That’s the beauty of it.”
Jack gave her a long look. “Well, thanks for the cookies.”
A man talking to his neighbor on his porch | Source: Midjourney
“Enjoy them!” she chirped. “And don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll settle in just fine.”
We closed the door.
“That was a lot,” Jack said.
“She looked past me like she expected to see a drug deal going down in the kitchen,” I said, setting the tray on the counter.
A woman drinking tea in her kitchen | Source: Pexels
“Bet she memorized our license plates already.”
“Let her. It’s not like we’re breaking laws. Just an overenthusiastic neighbor with too much time.”
Jack shrugged. “Cookies smell good though.”
Three days later, I woke up to a strange noise outside. It was early. Still dark. That cold, gray hour before sunrise.
A sleepless woman in her bed | Source: Midjourney
Clank. Clank. Whirrr.
Jack sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What is that?”
I pulled the curtain back and froze. “Jack. Outside. Now.”
We flew down the hallway, threw the door open—barefoot, half-dressed.
A confused woman on her porch | Source: Midjourney
Two tow trucks. Both in our driveway. Both our cars halfway lifted off the ground.
“Hey!” I shouted. “What the hell is going on?”
One of the tow truck guys didn’t even look up. “Violation of HOA regulation. Only one car per home. Orders came in this morning.”
“From who?” Jack snapped. “There’s no posted warning! No notice!”
