“It is Chad,” I stated firmly, slamming the paper onto the wooden table.

“It has to be him because nobody else can even see the garden from the public road.

He has been glaring down at your corn all summer like it personally offended him.”

Dad remained completely silent.

“He cannot do this to you,” I continued passionately.

“He cannot just buy property here and start ordering you around on land your family has owned for a hundred years, especially when he has only lived here for five months.”

“The county zoning office says he can complain,” Dad said quietly.