Nate shifts beside me. His anxiety is practically tangible.
“No, no. That’s not it at all.” He raises his hands in front of him. “What my old friend here is leaving out is that as we’ve reconnected, she’s mentioned more than once that her time in the Reserve is temporary. Mr. Bridgewerth leaving was a surprise to everyone, and we don’t want something like this to reoccur. Since she’s not a homeowner or a renter and is only sleeping in her childhood bedroom for the time being, we can’t be sure she’s dedicated to staying at all.”
As far as digs go, calling me a loser stuck in my parents’ house is pretty fucking effective. I even see Ashleigh flinch from the impact of it.
“Well, do you have to be a homeowner to run for the HOA? If so, I think that makes all of this meeting nonsense pretty unnecessary.” Mr. Stanley, who hasn’t aged a day since I graduated from high school, asks from a chair in the corner. “Also, what’s all this I keep hearing about you hating the founding fathers? Are you some kind of communist or something?”
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood and it’s a testament to my self-control.
Not only did I tell the Karens about Nate killing my Ben Franklin, I also stuffed every mailbox full of flyers that may or may not claim that Nate thinks the Declaration of Independence is a hoax and that Ben Franklin never existed.
It’s almost scary how many people didn’t even question that it was the truth.
“I do not hate the founding fathers, nor do I believe the Declaration of Independence is a conspiracy created by the deep state. I’ve seen the flyers going around and I can guarantee that they are just someone’s idea of a joke. It’s unequivocally false,” Nate says to Mr. Stanley before aiming a scathing glare my way. “Now, on to your other question—”
Nate begins, but I quickly cut him off. If there was one thing I was prepared for tonight, it was this question. And I’m not letting Nate put his negative spin on it.
“No, Mr. Stanley, you don’t have to be a homeowner to be part of the board. You can be a renter or even live with a family member.” I recite what I read online before I came. “All you need to be a member of the HOA is dedication and the desire to serve. As someone who has lived in this neighborhood since the day my parents brought me home from the hospital, nobody is more dedicated to seeing this community thrive. I’m running because I’m for less overreach and more homeowners’ rights. Just like the founding fathers envisioned.”
“Me too! That’s what I’m for too!” Nate tries to steal my thunder before shifting the conversation. “Now that we have all of that figured out, I have drinks and snacks in the kitchen for everyone. Please feel free to help yourself.”
Nobody needs further encouragement. Everyone leaps out of their seats and heads toward the aforementioned food and drinks. I start to follow, thinking Nate probably splurged on good wine to impress everyone, but before I can make it, his fingers wrap around my wrist.
“Collins?” Something in his voice tamps down my irritation. “Would you mind staying after everyone leaves?”
It sounds like a setup and my serial killer theory is beginning to feel more and more plausible, but I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
“Sure,” I agree, my curiosity more than a little bit piqued.
Plus, if all else fails, I’m pretty sure I can trick him into saying something else incriminating enough to put on my next flyer.
Chapter 13
As the last two women leave Nate’s house, leveling me with a final glare before the door shuts behind them, a heavy silence falls over the now-empty space. It’s later than I thought it would be. Apparently, suburban folks love a good spread on a weeknight. There’s not a single scrap of food left over on the many platters scattered across his kitchen. Empty wine bottles and glasses litter every surface in sight.
“So . . .” Nerves I didn’t expect come out of nowhere. “What a night, am I right?”
His back is toward me as he finishes locking up and I take a moment to stare without him knowing. I was right when I guessed his outfit earlier. His khaki pants mold to the backs of his thighs, which have grown thicker since our high school days. As the night wore on, he undid the buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up. He’s always so uptight, so polished, that the barest sight of his forearms sent a few of his guests scrambling.
“That’s one way to put it.” He runs his hand through his slightly overgrown hair. He sounds tired, run-down even, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s regretting asking me to stay. “You were a hit though.”
Much to my shock and awe, he’s not wrong.
After I said goodbye to Ashleigh with promises to text her when I got home and meet her for lunch to debrief tomorrow, I was forced to mingle with Nate’s other guests. I tapped into my extrovert reserves and made my way around the room.
I made sure to say hi to the neighbors I’ve known throughout the years, asking how their spouses and children were doing, but also made sure to introduce myself to the attendees I hadn’t yet met. I even managed to wrangle an invitation from Mrs. Morris to join her and Nate on their morning walks. Nate’s eyes almost popped out of his head when she offered, and although agreeing was on the tip of my tongue, I politely declined.
I also fell in love with Caroline and Hank Sanders. They bought their house the year I left for college. I’ve seen them out and about over the years, but tonight was the first time we’d ever spoken. They’re both in their late thirties; she works from home as a part-time psychologist, and he runs a construction company in Columbus—which he absolutely didn’t refer to as C-bus. They have two kids who go to the local middle school and are getting too cool to hang out with them anymore. She went to school in NYC and even though she moved out here kicking and screaming, she’s really come to enjoy the quiet peacefulness our suburban town offers. We have the same taste in food, shows, and books, and before she left, she invited me to her next book club meeting. Something I agreed to with no hesitation whatsoever.
Actually, I got along with pretty much everyone. The only people who were noticeably cold toward me happened to be the same women who lingered next to Nate all evening long, giggling at everything he said and ignoring the diamonds adorning their ring fingers.
“Well, duh.” I infuse my words with a heady dose of sarcasm. “I’m a freaking delight. I don’t know why you sound so surprised.”
“No. It’s not that,” he says. “I’m not surprised people liked you as much as I’m surprised that you seemed to like them.”
I think that if I dig around deep enough, there might have been a compliment rolled up in there. “Ummm, thanks?”
“Welcome.” He turns away from the door, and I can’t help but notice the circles beneath his eyes or how slow and heavy his steps are.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He may be my sworn mortal enemy, but it’s only fun to destroy him when he’s at his best. I’m not a monster; I don’t enjoy kicking people when they’re already down. If I’m going to spend my days working on campaign signs and my evenings mingling with my constituents, I need to know if my competition is up to par.