she whispered. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
We didn't send a letter. We filed a lawsuit the very next morning. We didn't sue for the cost of the barn. We
filed an injunction for the immediate removal of unauthorized structures on private property. We demanded
that Richard Vance demolish the portion of his home that was encroaching on my land.
The reaction was instantaneous. Three days later, a black Mercedes tore up my gravel driveway. Vance
jumped out, his face purple with rage. He pounded on my front door until I opened it. "What is this garbage?"
he screamed, waving a copy of the lawsuit. "You think you can forge a survey and steal my land?"
"It's a certified county survey, Richard," I said calmly, leaning against the doorframe. "Elias Thorne did it.
You can check the bedrock pins yourself. They've been there since 1952. You're trespassing."
Vance's bravado faltered for a fraction of a second, revealing the sheer panic beneath. He knew the name
Elias Thorne. "I'll buy it," he blurted out. "The land. I'll buy the eighty-foot strip. Fifty thousand dollars."
"Not for sale," I replied.
"A hundred thousand. That's more than your whole dump is worth!"
"It's not for sale, Richard." I looked him dead in the eye. "But I hear your HOA has strict guidelines
regarding outbuildings on other people's property. I suggest you get a bulldozer."