Laurel walked over then, her face controlled. “That’s unfair. We’ve invested a lot in this project.”
“On my land.”
“Based on professional advice.”
“Then your professionals can help you fill it back in.”
She looked at me as if I had said something obscene. “You would really destroy a lake?”
“I would restore my pasture.”
Brent shook his head. “You’re being emotional.”
I laughed once, not because it was funny. “No, Brent. Emotional was calling you before I called the county. Emotional was giving you a chance to fix it quietly. What comes next is documentation.”
I left before I said more.
There is a calm that comes when a line has been crossed so cleanly that doubt burns away. I had wanted this to be a mistake. I had wanted Brent to come over with his hat in his hands and say the contractor messed up, they would fix it, sorry for the trouble. I would have been angry, but I would have worked with him. We could have restored the spring, reshaped the land, maybe even found a way to salvage peace.
But he had chosen strategy over neighborliness.
