Chapter 4: The Cousin Who Wasn't a Problem
The filing took less than a week.
Carol moved quickly once she decided to move.
I didn't see the neighbors — I had started thinking of them simply as the couple, because using their names felt like giving them more space in my head than they deserved — for several days after that.
Their car was in the driveway each morning.
Their lights were on each evening.
Life apparently continuing as normal.
Then, on a Tuesday, a silver sedan I didn't recognize parked in front of their house.
A man in a dark jacket carried a briefcase to their front door.
He was inside for about an hour.
Dennis called me that evening.
"The cousin showed up," he said.
"I figured.
Silver sedan?"
"That's the one.
I got his plates if you want them."
I told Carol the next morning.
She was quiet for a moment, then said, "Let me guess.
The cousin is going to send us a letter telling us the claim has no merit and we should withdraw."
Two days later, that letter arrived.
Carol read it to me over the phone.
It was three pages long.
It argued that the couple had acted in good faith to improve the neighborhood aesthetic, that no structural damage had been done to the property, that the color change had in fact increased curb appeal and therefore property value, and that any reasonable person would recognize this as a net benefit.
"He actually wrote 'net benefit,'" Carol said.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to respond." She sounded almost pleased.
"Because this letter just confirmed three things.
One, they're not denying they did it.
Two, they're arguing it was justified.
And three, they've now put their justification in writing, signed by an attorney, which means it's on record." She paused.
"Also, I looked up the cousin.
He does real estate closings.
He has not litigated a contested civil case in eleven years."
The response Carol sent was four paragraphs.
It acknowledged receipt of the letter, noted that the couple had confirmed the unauthorized alteration in writing, stated that the justification offered did not constitute legal authorization under any applicable statute, and informed them that we would be proceeding.
The cousin did not write back.
What happened instead was that the husband came to my door.
I saw him through the window before he knocked.
I picked up my phone, typed a message to Carol that said he's at my door, and waited for her reply.
It came in under a minute: do not open it.
Let him knock.
If he leaves anything, photograph it and send it to me.
He knocked three times.
Then he rang the bell.
Then he knocked again.
I stood in my hallway and did not move.
"I know you're in there," he said through the door.
His voice was tight.
"I just want to talk.
That's all.
Just a conversation, neighbor to neighbor."
I said nothing.
"This is getting out of hand.
We can settle this ourselves without lawyers.
Come on." A pause.
"We'll pay for it.
Whatever it costs to repaint.
We'll cover it.
Just drop the suit."
I looked at my phone.
Carol had sent a follow-up: do NOT agree to anything verbally.
Do not open the door.
"I'm trying to be reasonable here," he said.
The tightness in his voice had shifted into something harder.
"You're making this into a bigger deal than it is.
It's paint.
It's just paint."
He stood on my porch for another minute.
Then I heard his footsteps going back down the steps.
I photographed the porch through the window to show he'd been there, then sent it to Carol along with a summary of what he'd said.
She called immediately.
"He offered to pay for repainting."
"Yes."
"That's an admission." Her voice was sharp with satisfaction.
"He just admitted on your doorstep, within earshot of any neighbor who happened to be outside, that the repainting was something that needed to be corrected.
That is not the behavior of someone who believes they did nothing wrong." A brief pause.
"Did anyone see him come to your door?"
I looked across the street.
Dennis's porch light was on.
"Probably," I said.
May you like
"Good," Carol said.
"Because tomorrow morning, I'm going to make them a counter-offer they are going to hate."
