“About what?”
“Residents holding private meetings.”
The treasurer paused.
“Homeowners are allowed to speak with one another.”
The president's expression hardened.
“Don't be naive.”
She walked across her kitchen.
“That new woman is trying to organize people against me.”
The treasurer remained quiet.
The president continued.
“She thinks because she has money she can take over this neighborhood.”
The older woman sighed.
“Maybe you should answer the questions about the property.”
The president stopped walking.
“What?”
“The recorded declaration.”
Silence.
The treasurer continued.
“If her parcel isn't subject to the full restrictions, we shouldn't be issuing those notices.”
The president's face reddened.
“You don't understand the legal issues.”
“Then let's get an independent opinion.”
The president slammed her palm against the kitchen counter.
“We already have counsel!”
The treasurer became quiet.
Then asked, “Has counsel reviewed the older deed?”
The president said nothing.
The treasurer continued.
“Because I asked to see the opinion, and nobody sent it.”
The older woman's voice was calm.
But determined.
The president felt a surge of anger.
For years, the treasurer had been manageable.
She asked annoying questions, but usually stopped when the president became irritated.
Now she was pushing back.
And the president knew why.
The new homeowner had begun giving other residents confidence.
She was asking for records.
Explaining the difference between board authority and personal preference.
And showing people that a violation notice wasn't necessarily the final word.
The president couldn't allow that.
Not with the development agreement approaching a critical deadline.
She lowered her voice.
“Listen carefully.”
The treasurer remained silent.
“I have spent years protecting this neighborhood.”
The older woman sighed.
“I know you believe that.”
The president's eyes narrowed.
“Believe?”
The treasurer continued.
“But the finances don't reconcile. The development plan hasn't been adequately explained. And we're issuing charges against a property whose legal status is disputed.”
For a moment, the president was speechless.
Then she said coldly, “Perhaps you're no longer suited to this board.”
The treasurer took a breath.
“Perhaps not.”
The president stared at the phone.
Then the treasurer added something unexpected.
“But I'm not signing another financial statement until the supporting records are available.”
The call ended.
The president stood alone in her beautiful kitchen.
Her hands trembled.
Then she opened the development agreement.
The contingent payment deadline was approaching.
If the access arrangement wasn't secured, the family business could lose a fortune.
She stared at the numbers.
Four million dollars.