And fines.
More fines.
She was forty-six, polished, wealthy, and accustomed to getting what she wanted.
Her husband was a successful oncologist.
Her older son, Braden, had recently graduated high school.
Her younger son was thirteen.
The Kesslers lived in the largest house on the cul-de-sac.
Maddy drove a white Range Rover.
She hosted wine nights for HOA board members.
And she had developed a particular interest in Hank's Mustang.
One Saturday morning, Braden approached Hank while he was washing the car.
“Mr. Larkin.”
Hank looked up.
“Morning, Braden.”
“Would you take seventy-five thousand?”
Hank frowned.
“For the Mustang?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
Braden laughed.
“Everything has a price.”
“Not everything.”
“My mom said you'd say that.”
Hank stopped wiping the hood.
“What did your mother tell you to do if I said no?”
Braden shrugged.
“She'll figure something out.”
Hank looked at him for several seconds.
Then he said quietly:
“Go home.”
Braden left.
Twenty-four minutes later, Maddy crossed the street.
She offered Hank eighty thousand dollars.
He refused again.
She smiled without warmth.
“Some sacrifices are simply part of being a good neighbor.”
Hank understood the threat.
“The Mustang stays.”