Chapter 2: The Story She Chose
Margaret immediately changed tactics.
She set the theatrical saw down beside the artificial trunk and folded her arms.
“I didn’t damage anything.”
David kept his phone in his hand.
“I know.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“You came here with a saw.”
“A prop saw.”
“You still came here with it.”
Margaret pointed toward the oak.
“I was concerned about the tree.”
David looked at the massive trunk.
“It hasn’t been touched.”
“Exactly.”
She seemed to think that settled the matter.
But the camera was still recording.
Margaret looked up again.
Her expression hardened.
“This is ridiculous.”
David said nothing.
That silence bothered her more than an argument would have.
She had expected resistance she could fight against. Instead, David was allowing the camera and her own actions to speak for themselves.
Margaret picked up the saw again.
David immediately noticed.
“Put it down.”
“I told you it’s harmless.”
“Then there’s no reason to hold it.”
Her jaw tightened.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Finally, Margaret lowered it.
But she did not release it.
“I came because somebody needs to take responsibility for this tree.”
David frowned.
“For what?”
“It could become a problem.”
“You haven’t even said what the problem is.”
Margaret gestured toward the oak.
“Look at it.”
“I am.”
“No, really look at it.”
David did.
The tree was old, enormous and healthy-looking.
Nothing about it explained why Margaret had arrived carrying a prop saw.
“You could have knocked on my door,” he said.
“I shouldn’t have to.”
That answer changed the temperature of the conversation.
David lowered his phone slightly.
“Why not?”
Margaret looked at him as though the question itself were insulting.
“Because when something affects a neighborhood, people should be allowed to act.”
“On someone else’s property?”
She did not answer.
The camera slowly adjusted its angle.
Margaret noticed the movement.
Her eyes followed the lens.
Then she did something David did not expect.
She walked toward it.
“You’re recording me like I’m some kind of criminal.”
David watched her.
“You’re the one who brought the saw.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“That isn’t what the camera is going to show.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
David looked toward the approaching sound of a vehicle.
“You’ll have to explain it to the officer.”
Margaret’s shoulders stiffened.
She finally heard it too.
A police cruiser was approaching from down the street.
She looked at the saw in her hand.
Then at the artificial trunk.
Then at the camera.
For the first time, her problem was no longer what she had intended to do.
It was what everyone could now see she had intended to do.
