Make the house cheaper for whoever keeps it.
Nathan knew his father meant him.
So he finished what Walter had started.
The system passed every county inspection.
The utility approved the connection.
The neighborhood association received copies of the permits.
Carolyn Price still objected.
She appeared on Nathan’s porch two days before installation carrying a blue folder.
“I’m asking you to reconsider,” she said.
Nathan looked past her toward the driveway, where the installation truck was scheduled to arrive the following morning.
“The permits are approved.”
“This isn’t only about permits.”
“What is it about?”
“Appearance. Safety. Community character.”
“The panels are on the back roof. You can’t see them from the street.”
“They can be seen from my upstairs windows.”
Nathan waited.
Carolyn seemed to believe that explained everything.
“The county approved the electrical plan,” he said.
“County employees don’t live beside you.”
“No. You do.”
Her smile tightened.
“That is exactly why I’m concerned.”
The first HOA letter arrived three days after installation.
Unapproved roof equipment.
Nathan replied with the approval number.
The second letter accused the panels of creating glare.
Nathan hired the installer to perform a reflection study.
The third claimed the battery system was an unapproved exterior structure.
Nathan provided the electrical permit.
The fourth warned of a possible fire risk.
Nathan submitted the fire department’s inspection record.
Every complaint disappeared after he answered it.
Then another took its place.
Carolyn never admitted filing them, but she chaired the committee that reviewed each one.
At meetings, she spoke to Nathan in the slow, careful voice people used when they wanted witnesses to think they were being reasonable.
“No one is against clean energy,” she said during one meeting. “We simply need to balance private choices with collective safety.”
Nathan held up the county approval packet.
“There is no safety violation.”
“That is your interpretation.”
“It’s the inspector’s interpretation.”
“You seem very defensive.”
“My roof has been discussed at four meetings.”
“Then perhaps you should ask why it continues to concern people.”
Nathan looked around the room.
No one else would meet his eyes.
Most residents were not concerned about the solar panels.
They were concerned about becoming Carolyn’s next target.
She had a way of turning small disagreements into official problems.
A basketball hoop became an obstruction.
A vegetable garden became an unsightly commercial operation.
A work van became evidence of an unapproved home business.
People complained privately, paid their fines, and moved on.
Nathan did the same until the damage began.
After the third incident, he called the police.
The responding officer documented the broken panels but found no footprints, tools, or witnesses.
The damage was not visible from the street.
The rear roof could be reached only by a ladder placed beside the garage.
Nathan started locking his extension ladder inside the shed.
A week later, someone loosened the battery enclosure behind the house.
The battery shut down at 1:37 in the morning.
Nathan woke because the backup alarm began beeping in the utility room.
When the technician arrived, he found that two exterior screws had been removed and one cable had been pulled almost free.
“This could have caused serious damage,” the technician said.
“To the house?”
“To the equipment. Possibly more, if someone touched the wrong connection.”
Nathan’s fear became anger.
He installed a camera above the battery box.
Three days later, someone sprayed the lens with black paint.
That was when Nathan stopped believing the person would eventually lose interest.
Whoever was doing this knew where the equipment was.
They knew where the cameras were.
They had access to the yard.
And they were becoming more confident.
Nathan bought smaller cameras.
He placed one beneath the roof vent, one inside a fake birdhouse facing the garage wall, and one under the eave above the battery system.
He told no one.
Not the police.
Not the HOA.
Not even his sister, Melissa.
He waited.
Nothing happened for two weeks.
Then Carolyn stopped him at the mailbox.
“I heard you’re going away next weekend,” she said.
Nathan had not told her that.
He had mentioned a possible trip to his coworker at the hospital, but no dates had been chosen.
“I might,” he said.
“You should. You look exhausted.”
“I didn’t know you were concerned.”
“We’re neighbors, Nathan.”
Her smile was warm.
Almost convincing.
That evening, Nathan decided to create an opportunity.
He told Melissa he would visit her in Columbus.
He mentioned the trip to two neighbors while repairing the mailbox post.
He loaded a suitcase into the truck where Carolyn could see it.
On Saturday morning, he carried a cooler into the garage and came out wearing a baseball cap.
Carolyn was trimming flowers near her driveway.
“Have a safe trip,” she called.
Nathan closed the garage.
“Thanks.”
“What time will you be back Sunday?”
He looked at her.
“Late.”
“Drive carefully.”
Nathan pulled away at 10:11.
Carolyn watched from the edge of her yard until he turned the corner.
Four hours later, she climbed onto his roof.
Nathan reached Oak Hollow in less than three minutes.
He abandoned the truck beside the service entrance and ran through the narrow path between two back fences.
His phone remained in his hand.
The camera feed showed Carolyn smashing a fourth panel.
She was not rushing.
She moved carefully, placing each foot between the mounting rails.
She knew where to step.
She knew how to avoid falling.
She had done it before.
Nathan reached the side yard and saw a silver ladder leaning against the garage.
It was not his ladder.
It had been placed behind the hedge where people on the street would not notice it.
He looked up.
“Carolyn!”
She froze.
The pipe remained raised above the fifth panel.
Her head turned slowly.
Nathan stood below her, breathing hard.
“What are you doing on my roof?”
Carolyn lowered the pipe.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward the empty driveway.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
Nathan lifted his phone.
“You’re right.”
Carolyn’s expression changed.
“I was supposed to be gone while you destroyed my panels.”