I considered the question.
In my business, I had supervised projects with tight schedules, difficult customers, and employees who disagreed about technical decisions.
I understood the feeling of making a responsible choice and still disappointing somebody.
"Explain the decision," I said.
Eleanor listened.
"Document the reasons. Let people ask questions. Correct mistakes when you find them."
She sighed.
"And if they're still angry?"
I smiled.
"Then they can be angry."
A pause.
Then Eleanor began laughing.
"Well, that's helpful."
I laughed too.
Then added, "Your job isn't to make everybody happy. It's to act within your authority and make decisions you can defend."
She became quiet.
Then said, "That's what your father taught you, isn't it?"
I smiled faintly.
"Something like that."
Eleanor took a breath.
"All right."
I could hear papers moving on her end of the line.
Then she said, "I'm going to read that landscaping report again."
I laughed.
"Enjoy the rocks."
She hung up before I could say anything else.
For a while, I sat smiling at my phone.
Months earlier, Eleanor had been frightened to question one invoice.
Now she was arguing with half the neighborhood about how the association should be governed.
It was progress.
Messy.
Inconvenient.
Sometimes ridiculous.
But real.
The biggest confrontation after the pool incident occurred outside the county courthouse.
Patricia had appeared for a proceeding connected to the property damage and unauthorized entry allegations.
The investigation into the broader financial matters continued separately.
Several reporters waited near the courthouse entrance.
I had attended with my attorney because I was a complainant and a potential witness.
Eleanor came too, though she was not required to.
She said she wanted to understand the process.
When the proceeding ended, we walked toward the parking area.
Patricia was standing beside her attorney.
She wore a tailored navy suit rather than her familiar pink clothing.
Her blonde hair was neatly styled.
She looked composed.
Then she saw me.
Her expression changed.
For several seconds, she stared.
I kept walking.
I had no reason to speak with her.
Then she called out.
"Mr. Reed."
I stopped.
My attorney glanced toward me.
She shook her head slightly.
I understood.
Don't engage unnecessarily.
But Patricia continued.
"I hope you're pleased with yourself."
I turned.
For a moment, I considered ignoring her.
Then I looked toward the older woman standing beside me.
Eleanor's hands had tightened around her purse.