Chapter 4
Friday morning arrived with a heavy, overcast sky that threatened rain before noon. Eleanor stood on her front porch, waiting for the municipal inspector’s unmarked sedan to turn into the driveway. She wore her uniform of authority: the crisp white button-down shirt, beige trousers, and gold hoop earrings, her blonde hair immaculate. True to his schedule, Arthur Pendelton, a veteran city surveyor with thick glasses and a battered clipboard, stepped out of the car. He greeted Eleanor with a polite tip of his cap. “Morning, Mrs. Vance. Let’s take a look at these boundary markers.” Eleanor led him around the side of the house toward the backyard, her heart beating with a rhythmic, anxious thrum. As they rounded the corner, they found Sarah waiting by the patio table. Sarah wore a modest cream-colored linen dress and sensible leather sandals, her bare-foot days temporarily shelved for the official proceeding. She held a fresh survey map pinned to a hardboard backing. Arthur set his metal tripod down near the disputed corner of the fence, muttering to himself as he pulled a long yellow measuring tape from his leather belt. The five children were safely sequestered inside Sarah’s house today, watching cartoons through the living room window, their muted laughter occasionally drifting through the glass. Eleanor stood rigidly beside Arthur, pointing insistently at an old concrete marker embedded near the pool pump. “That pin right there was placed by the county in nineteen-eighty-five. Everything north of it is clearly my deeded property,” Eleanor stated, her voice tight with anticipation. Arthur knelt down, brushing away wet grass and dirt to inspect the weathered metal disk stamped into the concrete. He adjusted his glasses, squinting through a magnifying glass attached to a small chain around his neck. Sarah remained quiet, standing a few paces back, holding the map against her chest like a shield. She did not look nervous; she looked weary, as if she were attending a tedious dental appointment rather than a battle for her backyard. Arthur stood up, groaning slightly as his knees popped. He looked between the two women, a heavy frown settling on his weathered face. “Well, Mrs. Vance, you’re half right. The pin is indeed from nineteen-eighty-five, but the county re-mapped these parcels in nineteen-ninety-two after the drainage project.” Eleanor’s breath hitched. “What are you saying?” Arthur tapped his clipboard. “I’m saying the property line actually shifts two point five feet to the south, exactly where Mrs. Miller’s fence currently sits. Her pool is entirely on her land.” Eleanor staggered back half a step, the blood draining from her face.
