There was, however, a broad clause stating that all owners must comply with applicable federal, state, and local regulations.
Elaine tapped that section.
“This is important.”
“How?”
“If the county requires the wall, the HOA can't simply pretend the county doesn't exist.”
“Can they fine me anyway?”
“They can attempt to.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“No,” she said. “It isn't.”
She leaned back.
“They can send you notices. They can assess penalties if authorized by the declaration. They can record a lien if their documents and state law allow it. Whether those actions survive judicial review is a different question.”
“So I should fight it.”
“You should stop treating this as a neighborhood argument.”
I looked at her.
“What should I treat it as?”
“A property and administrative-law dispute involving coastal infrastructure.”
That sounded much less personal.
Which was exactly what I needed.
Elaine instructed me not to remove anything.
Not a bolt.
Not a plant.
Not a piece of concrete.
She told me to communicate only in writing.
She told me to request every engineering document the HOA relied upon.
And she told me to photograph the wall.
Every inch of it.
I did.
Morning.
Afternoon.
Low tide.
High tide.
After rain.
After wind.
I photographed the drainage outlets.
The footing.
The anchors.
The waterline.
The neighboring properties.
Karen's yard.
Glenn's proposed planting area.
I measured the distance from the wall to my foundation.
Then I measured the distance from Karen's foundation to the waterline.
Four feet.
Exactly as I had remembered.
That number stayed in my mind.
Four feet.
The number that would later explain everything.
The HOA did not answer my attorney's first letter.
Instead, Karen sent another violation notice.
It contained three photographs.
One showed the seawall.
The second showed my patio.
The third showed a section of grass beside the patio.
The violation stated:
FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH COASTAL BEAUTIFICATION DIRECTIVE.
I forwarded it to Elaine.
She responded with one sentence.
“Do not reply directly.”
So I didn't.
Two days later, Karen called me.
I let it go to voicemail.
She left a message.
“You are creating unnecessary conflict. The board has made a reasonable decision, and your refusal is becoming disruptive to the community.”
I saved the voicemail.
A week later, I received another letter.
The fine had started.
Five hundred dollars.
Per day.
I owed $3,500.
I had not removed the wall.
I did not pay.
The following week, the balance was $7,000.
Then $10,500.
Karen had discovered that the number on a spreadsheet could grow much faster than the number on a concrete wall.
At the end of the month, the HOA posted a notice on my mailbox.