three years, things stayed relatively quiet.
Then six months earlier, Cedar Ridge elected a new HOA president.
Her name was Patricia Kessler.
Everyone called her Trish.
She had moved from St. Louis after selling some kind of marketing consultancy.
She drove a pearl-white Range Rover.
She wore oversized sunglasses even on cloudy days.
And she seemed to believe legal authority worked like perfume.
Apply enough of it and everyone nearby was required to smell it.
Two months after becoming president, she sent me a letter offering $150,000 for thirty acres along my eastern boundary.
I declined.
Then she offered $225,000.
I declined again.
Then came a letter saying Cedar Ridge was “reviewing historical access rights affecting surrounding parcels.”
I handed it to my attorney, Rachel Collins.
Rachel replied with one page.
No easement.
No access rights.
No discussion.
That should have ended it.
Apparently, it had only changed
