Nola’s explanations about the house were too vague for my liking, however. I’d have to check the county maps and find the owner’s name. I’d feel better if I talked to them—or emailed them—about staying there myself.
"Why can’t you come to the HOA meeting with me?" I asked her as I pulled on my shoes.
Nola sat on the couch scrolling through Netflix. "It’s Grace’s birthday tonight. I’m stopping by for cake."
"I’ll come with you." It didn’t matter that I had no clue who Grace was. I only knew that I did not want to go to a neighborhood meeting and pretend to be something I wasn’t.
"No, you should go to the meeting. We’ll need to know the HOA rules if we’re going to live here. Besides, I won’t be at the party for long. High schoolers usually don’t like to hang out with old people on their birthdays." She smiled at me but offered no further explanation of who Grace was.
"You owe me," I told her as I opened the front door.
"Good luck collecting!" She laughed evilly as I stomped out the door.
According to the flyer that the ever-helpful-Carol gave us, there was a large gazebo where they liked to hold their weekly HOA meetings. There was a large community space that held the outdoor pool, rec building, and gazebo. It was only two streets down from Cypress Avenue, so I didn’t bother driving.
It was the perfect evening to walk. Still sunny and warm and giving off that delusional bright feeling that everything was going to work out all right.
As I approached the community green space, the hum of voices filled the air. A few people were still walking towards the gazebo, while there were at least twenty more inside.
I walked up the three steps into the gazebo, and the chatter died down at the same time I reached the top step. The folding chairs spread throughout the gazebo were half-occupied. There were still several people standing together and looking at me. I nodded hello to a gentleman to my left. I recognized him as the man with the big white dog from the first day I drove through Willow Loop. He smiled and nodded back at me.
"Welcome! Welcome. Why don't you sit here by me, Mr. Fox?"
I turned to find Carol sitting in the front row, waving exaggeratedly at me. Why didn't I pack my stuff back into my SUV and get out of there? There was still time to get away.
I glanced around at the people filling the gazebo, and I knew why I wouldn't leave.
These were future clients. The gazebo was full of people who would either A) move for future work or B) buy an investment property. They would have the money to fund either of those. Most people who could afford a neighborhood like this either had substantial cash or a strong credit line to back them.
If I could play out this hand...make it through a week or two...I could build relationships with the residents. I could "move" but still maintain those connections. It would be the perfect out—as long as I could get Nola on board with me.
Carol patted the seat next to her. I wanted to sit anywhere but there. Instead of running like I wanted to, I smiled and said, "Thank you! It's nice to recognize a face in the room. Lots of people here." I gestured to the gazebo full of people. Most of them looked just about as thrilled as I felt to be there. A middle-aged woman stepped up to the make-shift podium, tapping a smartphone against the top.
"Hello, everyone. We'll be getting right to business tonight. I need to get home and get a cake out of the oven. Now, does anyone have questions or concerns from this month?"
Multiple voices spoke at once, crashing on top of each other, each growing louder than the next. I fought the urge to groan.
"Can we talk about dog walking costs being covered with the HOA fee?"
"How about the costs of watering the yard? It seemed to be a little more expensive this month."
"Why don't we fence in the green space for the dogs? And kids?"
The woman standing at the front frowned but took the time to answer the questions with the patience of a saint.
Carol leaned closer to me and whispered, "That's Jan, the current HOA president. I thought for sure I would be elected this year."
Her hand moved to rest on my knee. It was difficult not to flinch. I pretended like I needed to cough. I turned away from her and coughed into my elbow, shifting my whole body away from her. The man behind me—the dog man—caught my eye and smirked. He mouthed, "Subtle."
I raised my eyebrows at him before I turned around, careful not to get too close to Carol again. That look in her eye was not like my motherly Darla, who patted me on the shoulder all the time. Darla's hands never wandered to my inner thigh.
Fighting a shudder, I focused all of my attention on Jan, the HOA president.
She was saying, "With the housing influx, we need to vote on whether the through road will connect to the neighborhood over on Redwood Way. If we want it, we'll have to present the case to the county, though I don't think it will be difficult to get the approval due to the traffic jams at Fifteenth Street. Having a through road would make it quicker to the elementary school as well. Those of you in favor of a through road, raise your hands. I'll be presenting the case next Monday."
Hands raised all around the room. All except mine.
Carol glanced at me. "Don't you want the road to connect to Redwood? It would shave eight minutes off of the drive to the supermarket."
A
