It would take time.
It would take reassurance.
And it would take real changes in the neighborhood.
Later that afternoon, the vice president called.
The father's phone was on the kitchen counter while he prepared sandwiches.
He answered on speaker.
The vice president sounded exhausted.
“I wanted to check on your children.”
“They're shaken up. Physically, everyone seems all right.”
“Thank goodness.”
The father paused.
“What's the board doing?”
The vice president took a breath.
“We're consulting the association's attorney about immediate protective steps.”
“Is she still acting as president?”
“We've instructed the management company not to accept unilateral enforcement directives from her while we review what happened. We're also arranging a properly noticed emergency board meeting to address her officer position and any authority delegated to her.”
The father appreciated the distinction.
He had spent months dealing with an HOA president who seemed to believe that saying something made it legally true.
He wanted the board to follow its own procedures.
The vice president continued.
“We're also asking for all enforcement records involving your property.”
“Good.”
“And we're requesting a complete accounting of the safety assessment charges.”
The father stopped preparing the sandwiches.
“All of them?”
“Yes. Not just yours.”
He leaned against the counter.
The vice president's voice became quieter.
“I owe you an apology.”
The father said nothing.
“We should have addressed this sooner. You provided evidence. Other homeowners provided evidence. We kept treating the complaints as personality conflicts.”
The father looked toward the living room.
His children were watching a movie.
The youngest sat close to her older sister.
“This was never a personality conflict,” he said.
“I understand that now.”
The father took a breath.
“I told you she was frightening my children.”
“I know.”
“I told you she was coming to the fence.”
“I know.”
“I told you the notices were getting worse.”
The vice president was silent.
The father continued.
“And today she brought a hornets' nest over my yard.”
The words sounded almost unbelievable when spoken aloud.
He closed his eyes.
“I don't want another apology that turns into another warning letter.”
“You won't get one.”
“I want the board to act.”
“We will.”
The father looked down at the counter.
“Then show me.”
After the call, he finished making lunch.
He carried the plates into the living room.
The children were watching an animated movie, but nobody appeared particularly interested.
The boy accepted his sandwich without speaking.
The father sat beside him.
“You want to talk?”