The New Ramp Lock Brought Six Deeds Into a Courtroom

I didn't stand in front of the workers. I took pictures from my lot and called Nina.

"Get the company name and the time," she said. "Then let me call the board's lawyer."

The men bolted the gate to two posts. At seven twelve, one snapped a padlock through the latch. I wrote that time on the back of a copy of their work sheet.

My skiff sat on the water side. My trolley sat on the road side. A strip I had used for thirty-three years was closed between them.

Felicia watched from the upper path.

"You could have settled this for seven hundred twenty dollars," she said.

I put my phone away.

"I couldn't buy something I already had."

"There's that attitude again."

She left before Nina called back.

The association's lawyer had asked for the gate to remain open while he reviewed the records. Felicia had refused. Owen sent Nina the exchange, with permission from the board members who had received it.

The next morning, Nina filed our case. All six owners signed on. We asked the court to declare our access rights, stop the charges, order refunds, and clear the fence from the route.

She also requested an urgent temporary order. She sent the other lawyer notice and copies of everything we would present. There would be no surprise folder held up at the last second.

"Our advantage is that he can read it before he gets there," she said.

Two days later, I sat on a courthouse bench in Port Orchard. Len had worn a tie with little fish on it. Mara held a thick envelope against her stomach.

I folded a paper boat from a spare sheet Nina gave me.

"How many of those have you made?" Len asked.

"Enough to know when to start over."

Felicia arrived with the association's lawyer. She looked at the boat, then at my shoes. I had polished them the night before.

Inside, the judge asked about the immediate problem.

Nina showed the recorded agreement, the association's deed, Tomas's signed survey, and pictures of the locked gate. She explained where my boat and trolley were stuck.

The association's lawyer stood.

"The association has a duty to maintain safe use of its waterfront."

"Does your client dispute that these six lots are named in this agreement?" the judge asked.

"Not at this stage. We dispute the scope of use."

"What use shown here falls outside launching a small boat?"

He looked down at his notes.

Felicia leaned toward him. He listened, then straightened without repeating what she had said.

The judge did not decide the whole case that morning. She ordered the gate unlocked and secured open while the case proceeded. The association could not block our stated route or demand a license payment as a condition of using it. Further disputed fines were put on hold.

The order said none of us could damage the fence or widen the route ourselves.

"That's fine," I whispered to Nina. "I brought papers, not a saw."

The clerk gave Nina a filed copy. In the hall, she checked the time limit and each page before putting it in her case.

"Can I call the workers?" I asked.

"The board has to arrange compliance. We'll send this to its lawyer now."

I had waited through plenty of engine tests. Waiting while somebody else held the tools was harder.

Outside, Felicia moved toward me.

"You made us look terrible."

Nina stepped beside me, but I answered.

"The judge saw your gate."

By four that afternoon, Owen sent a picture of the open latch. I went to the ramp with Mara. The gate was tied back with a cable, and a copy of the order was inside the office window.

I brought my skiff around from the float. I still couldn't safely turn the trolley past the fence corner, so I tied up again. The order had opened the gate. It hadn't moved the cedar posts.

"We're partway there," Mara said.

I nodded. On a big engine, finding pressure again didn't mean every bearing was sound.

That evening, Owen told me the board had taken control of the association's bank records and billing software. New payments required two approvals. Felicia still held her title, but she couldn't send money out alone.

The accountant was reviewing four years of statements, invoices, and meeting minutes. The board had also sent the temporary order to every member.

For the first time, people from the newer houses came down to read my posted deed copy. One woman brought back a license application she had been asked to pass to an old-lot owner.

"I thought this was a city program," she said.

"It's a private association," I told her.

She folded the application once and put it in her pocket.

Eight days later, Nina forwarded the accountant's first summary. Its cover message was only two lines.

Five households had paid for rights already in their deeds. There were also payments from the association to Felicia herself.