Jack and I had just unpacked when Lindsey made her entrance. Her pastel outfit matched her sickly-sweet smile. She carried pristine cookies while eyeing our driveway. “HOA rules allow just one car,” she warned. We ignored her – temporary renters don’t sweat HOA drama.
Tow trucks woke us at dawn three days later. I stumbled outside to see both cars disappearing down the street. Lindsey stood watching in her plush robe, coffee in hand. She didn’t hide her smirk. Then I remembered the tiny decals on our bumpers.
“See this?” I pointed to the federal marker on my car. Lindsey’s cup shattered on the pavement. Her face went white. I made one quick call to our field office. Suddenly her neighborhood power play became a federal issue.
By noon, a grim agent in a dark suit stood on Lindsey’s porch. He detailed the $25,000 in damages she’d caused. He explained federal obstruction laws in icy tones. The HOA president arrived mid-lecture, then quickly excused himself. Jack stifled laughter behind me.
As the agent led Lindsey inside, Jack called out: “The cookies were great!” We drank coffee on our porch that afternoon. The whole street buzzed with gossip by evening. Lesson learned – never mess with tenants whose cars bear mysterious stickers.
