Next-Door Nemesis(21)
While my neighbors aren’t pleased, his warning takes hold. The yelling over one another comes to an end. Those with questions, concerns, or both take turns standing up and airing their grievances to the room.
“The letter I received said I needed to bring it to the board within two weeks in order to dispute,” a middle-aged woman with fantastic highlights says from behind us. “If your resignation is effective immediately, then will there be a pause on our ‘violations’?” She uses air quotes around the word violations and I automatically appreciate her and her artistic choices. “How will things be decided until a new president is appointed?”
Echoes of “yeah” and very earnest murmurs of “what she said” travel around the room. I attended tonight with the sole desire to heckle Nate and cause him to squirm in front of an audience, but I can’t help but feel bad for him. It’s obvious that he was completely taken by surprise with this announcement. I’d be furious if I was on the receiving end of all this vitriol because Mr. freaking Bridgewerth didn’t communicate his plans with me.
“Thank you for your question,” Mr. Bridgewerth starts before settling into his seat. “After tonight, Nathanial Adams will be the interim board president. Because of certain bylaws, we must hold an election before that can be made official. You will all receive information on how to cast your vote soon.”
I’m not sure if being a writer with a minimal amount of friends failed to tip anyone off, but I’m not big on peopling. I much prefer the sheets to the streets and would happily spend all my days curled up in bed with a good book or binge-watching my new favorite show.
My involvement in causes I care about usually ends at a standard donation of funds. Tonight is the closest I’ve ever come to participating in an uprising. Sitting in a room as mild-mannered suburbanites unleash their wrath has made me feel more alive than I’ve felt since my world came crashing down around me.
So maybe that’s why, upon hearing that Nate—the person least in need of extra power—is going to get promoted to president, I’m on my feet before I can think better of it.
“Will you also be sending out information on how to run for HOA president?” I ask into the madness.
The room goes silent as all attention shifts to me.
Including Nate’s. He scowls.
“Miss Carter,” Nate says, “while we appreciate your interest in our community, I’m not sure this a commitment you’ve given proper thought to.”
If he could’ve managed not to be such a patronizing jerk for two seconds, maybe I would’ve reconsidered this rash decision. But since Nate is incapable of not being a total jackass, he only adds fuel to my fire.
“On the contrary.” I lift my chin and put my hands on my hips—the most lethal of stances. “I’ve been sitting here all night, listening as our neighbors have come to you with clear and serious concerns. They’re telling you that they are unhappy with the leadership and, quite frankly, the overreach of the current HOA board. You’ve had all night to stand up for our neighbors, but you’ve sat silently until now. Why is that? Can you please explain why you’re more concerned about having an opponent for the position of president than you are about helping Mr. Griffin and Mrs. Long?”
The energy in the room, which had only begun to settle moments ago, amps right back up.
“She’s right,” Mr. Griffin shouts, still gesturing wildly. “Why don’t you want her to run? Isn’t this America?”
Never has “isn’t this America” been used in my defense, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t basking in it. It’s impossible to beat back my smug smile as Nate works to deflect the crowd’s growing ire.
“No, Mr. Griffin, I mean . . . yes.” Nate stumbles over his words. “This is America. I don’t mind Miss Carter running, but—”
“But what?” Mrs. Long yells in my defense. “You don’t think she can do a good job? That you care more? Isn’t that what elections are for?”
“You’re absolutely correct. I misspoke and I would love nothing more than to encourage anyone who cares about our community to be as involved as they’d like.” Nate’s tone is properly apologetic, but if the firm set of his jaw says anything, it’s that beneath the surface, he’s absolutely stewing. “I’m very sorry, Miss Carter.”
“Thank you, Mr. Adams.” I pause for a moment to swallow the laughter bubbling up in the back of my throat before I respond. “I’m sure you will make a formidable opponent.”
“Well then.” Mr. Bridgewerth takes back control of the meeting. “Miss Carter and anyone else looking to run for the position of board president, please locate me after the meeting and I’ll give you the information you need for the election. The rest of you, please keep an eye out in your mailbox for voting instructions in the coming weeks.”
As polite applause rattles around us and the meeting moves forward, Nate and I maintain eye contact, neither wanting to be the first to look away. We may seem cordial to everyone watching, but between Nate and me? We both know what we’re really saying.
The small smiles on our faces and glimmers in our eyes declare war. And this time it’s not going to end quietly. With an unspoken promise, we’re vowing to do whatever it takes.