Andre stood.
“Thank you.”
He looked toward the photograph.
“Can you identify the source of the water shown in that image?”
Cynthia's expression tightened.
“The association has reason to believe the drainage problem originates in this section of the neighborhood.”
Andre nodded.
“That's a location, not a source.”
Several homeowners murmured.
Cynthia folded her arms.
“Mr. Walker, we all understand your professional background. That doesn't mean you have authority to challenge the association's findings.”
Andre remained calm.
“I'm asking whether a qualified investigator identified the source.”
She stared.
For a moment, she seemed uncertain.
Then she said.
“We're working with specialists.”
“Which specialists?”
“That information is being coordinated through management.”
Andre nodded.
“Then please provide their reports when available.”
Cynthia's cheeks reddened.
“You are making a simple compliance matter unnecessarily complicated.”
He looked toward the board.
“I've already informed the municipal utility department about the moisture. They are reviewing possible upstream wastewater sources.”
The room became quiet.
Cynthia went completely still.
For a fraction of a second, Andre saw something in her face.
Not anger.
Alarm.
Then she recovered.
“That was an inappropriate decision.”
Andre frowned.
“Reporting a potential wastewater problem?”
She lifted her chin.
“The association was handling the matter internally.”
He stared.
“Municipal wastewater infrastructure isn't exclusively an internal HOA issue.”
Cynthia slammed her folder shut.
“That is quite enough.”
The meeting secretary looked startled.
A board member named Harold Pierce leaned forward.
Harold was sixty-two, a retired commercial insurance broker who had lived in Magnolia Ridge for sixteen years.
He rarely spoke during meetings.
But when he did, people usually listened.
“Cynthia, Andre has a legitimate question.”
Her expression hardened.
“Harold—”
“If we're claiming a public-health concern, we should have the supporting assessment.”
She looked toward him.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Cynthia smiled tightly.
“The documentation will be distributed when the review is complete.”
Andre sat down.
He didn't argue further.
But as the meeting ended, he noticed Cynthia speaking urgently to a man he'd never seen before.
The stranger wore a charcoal suit and carried a black leather briefcase.
He appeared to be in his late fifties.
His dark hair was streaked with silver.
When Andre approached the exit, the man stopped speaking.
Cynthia looked toward Andre.
Her smile returned.
“Mr. Walker.”
He nodded politely.
“Mrs. Vale.”
The stranger studied him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Cynthia introduced him.
“This is Martin Vale. My brother.”
Andre shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Martin's grip was firm.
His smile wasn't.
“I understand you've been asking questions about drainage.”
Andre nodded.
“I work in that field.”
Martin glanced toward Cynthia.