The Treasurer Opened A Dock Budget That Included My Land

Ellis's attachment was an invoice for $9,600.

The description read Storm Access Restoration. Under it, in smaller print, were charges for clearing, relocating route posts, and preparing a dock approach.

Gordon had approved it with his initials.

I called Ellis the next morning.

“Did the board vote on this?”

“He said the emergency clause covered it.”

“Was moving the posts an emergency?”

Ellis let out a long breath.

“I asked that. He said we could lose the waterfront opportunity.”

“Whose opportunity?”

“That's why I sent you the invoice.”

We met at my table with June on speakerphone. Ellis brought a binder and looked as if he had carried it through deep water.

He was a retired school bookkeeper. His hands shook when he opened the tabs.

“I should have pushed harder.”

June said, “Start with what you have.”

There was a $3,200 deposit for dock drawings. There was a $1,800 charge for a brochure. There was an email describing six slips, each with a proposed $12,000 license fee and $250 monthly maintenance charge.

I did the math on a scrap of paper.

“Seventy-two thousand dollars up front.”

“The license money hasn't been collected,” Ellis said. “Just three refundable reservations of $2,000 each. They're still in a separate account.”

“Keep them there,” June said.

Then we reached the page that made Ellis stop turning.

Pike Landing Management would receive twenty percent of the slip income for handling rentals and upkeep.

Gordon had signed the proposal as its sole owner.

Ellis pushed his glasses up his nose.

“He told me it was just a project name.”

“Who owns the dock site?” I asked.

He unfolded the plan. The proposed slips extended from Gordon's canal frontage. Their planned land approach ran across my strip and connected to the association path.

“He gets the waterfront business,” I said. “We get the bill for reaching it.”

“That's what I need an accountant to check.”

June asked whether the association had voted to join any business. Ellis opened the minutes. There was a vote for storm cleanup, with a $3,500 limit. Nothing approved a private dock venture.

“Did the board know?” I asked.

“Two members saw the brochure. Nobody saw this page until I asked for the whole packet.”

June asked Ellis to preserve the originals and send copies directly to her. She did not call it theft. She called it a possible conflict and an expense that needed review.

I liked her care. Gordon used large words to make weak things look strong. June used exact words to keep strong things from cracking.

That evening, the fine committee met in the association room. Twenty-three folding chairs faced a table with three committee members. Gordon stood beside a mounted copy of his map.

I placed my red folder on my knees.

“This is a simple access matter,” he began.

“Then let's keep it simple,” said the committee chair. “What recorded right puts this shed in violation?”

Gordon pointed at his thick black line.

“Everyone has used this route.”

June slid the old overhead image across the table.

“This was the route.”

Ruth raised her hand. “I walked that bend for nineteen years.”

“We're not taking audience testimony,” Gordon snapped.

The chair looked at him.

“You aren't chairing this hearing.”

He sat down so hard the chair feet squealed.

Pilar explained her completed survey. She gave distances, record references, and the locations of the monuments. She kept her voice level when Gordon interrupted.

“That's just a measurement.”

“Several measurements,” she said. “They agree.”

A few people smiled. Pilar did not.

June placed my separate deed beside the survey.

“Ms. Mercer owns this strip. The recorded drainage easement does not support the claimed recreational use. The association's access is east of it.”

Gordon stared at me.

“You bought that little ditch?”

“In 2003.”

“You never told the board.”

“The deed was recorded. The tax bill arrived every year.”

He had expected an old gate tender defending a shed. I held the land his whole dock approach crossed.

The chair read the deed reference aloud. Then the committee voted, three to zero, against confirming any fine.

I waited until she finished writing the result.

“Please send me the signed decision and a zero balance.”

Gordon stood again.

“This doesn't settle community rights. We can have that shed removed as a hazard.”

June closed her folder.

“You have been told the boundary is disputed. Do not enter her land.”

Outside, Ruth touched my sleeve.

“I should have spoken sooner.”

“You spoke tonight.”

For the first time all week, I could feel something besides the sea glass inside my fist. My hand had begun to relax.

Then my phone rang.

The caller was a man who said he ran the removal crew.

“Mr. Pike gave us the go-ahead,” he said. “We'll need your gate unlocked at seven tomorrow.”