“I told Trent to stay on his side of the grass and leave your lawn alone.”

“And what about the three-foot easement strip along the gravel?” I asked.

“Standard agreement,” Harry said, reaching into the side pocket of his wicker basket and pulling out a three-page typed document on heavy white bond paper.

“You sign, I give you the envelope, and we drop every pending complaint before the HOA board.”

He laid the three pages flat on the little wooden porch table between us and set a shiny black ballpoint next to them.

“Think about your daughter,” Harry said, his voice rising into a coaxing, fatherly tone.