“Because the reserve balance is lower than our projections.”
The president's expression hardened.
“Costs have increased everywhere.”
The treasurer looked toward the financial statement.
“I know. But we should be able to identify what work was performed.”
The president leaned forward.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
The treasurer shook her head.
“No.”
“Then stop acting like an investigator.”
The conversation ended badly.
The treasurer requested supporting records from the association management company.
Several arrived.
Others were delayed.
When she examined the available documents, she noticed that one of the drainage consultants shared business contact information with a company connected to the president's family.
She raised the issue at a board meeting.
The president called it a harmless administrative relationship.
Then proposed limiting individual board members' access to certain records without prior approval from the president's office.
The treasurer objected.
A few directors supported her.
Others remained silent.
The proposal passed narrowly.
For the first time, the treasurer began wondering whether she could continue serving responsibly.
She didn't have proof that money had been stolen.
But she could no longer confidently explain where some of it had gone.
And she knew the president had become increasingly interested in the red-brick property.
Every time the treasurer asked about the older parcel, the president became defensive.
Then the young Black woman bought the house.
And the notices began almost immediately.
The president's second attempt to pressure the homeowner came on a Saturday afternoon.
The young woman was standing in the garden with a landscape architect, discussing the old stone terrace and the mature trees near the creek.
The architect had brought preliminary sketches.
They were considering modest improvements that would preserve the property's character.
Nothing had been approved or constructed.
The HOA president appeared at the side gate carrying her leather folder.
She didn't ring the front bell.
She walked along the driveway as though she'd been invited.
The homeowner noticed her approaching.
“Good afternoon.”
The president didn't return the greeting.
“What's going on here?”
The architect looked surprised.
The homeowner remained calm.
“We're reviewing ideas for the garden.”
The president stared at the drawings.
“Construction?”
“No.”
“Landscaping changes?”
“Possibly, in the future.”
The older woman opened her folder.
“Those require HOA approval.”
The homeowner nodded.
“Any applicable approvals will be considered before work begins.”
The president looked irritated.
“I'm not asking you to consider anything.”
The architect stepped back slightly.
The president continued.
“You need to understand that this neighborhood has standards.”