"No," I replied. "I think a contract means what its words say until a lawful process determines otherwise. If we disagree, there's a court for that. There isn't a rule that lets you invent twenty-three hundred dollars because you don't like my answer."
The room remained quiet as I sat down. The moment felt less like a victory than I had imagined. I could not recover the hours of sleep I had lost, or make the truck tow unhappen, or put Sarah back in the chair beside me.
Then Ethel asked the board to vote on a temporary suspension of Delilah's spending authority pending the independent review. The motion had been circulated in advance, and the directors had received legal advice about the distinction between controlling financial access and deciding an individual's criminal guilt. Three of the four other directors voted in favor; one abstained because he had approved several of the questioned payments and wanted his own conduct reviewed.
Delilah slapped the table with her palm. "You can't strip me of authority because a handful of people don't like my style."
"The motion concerns control of the accounts while the records are examined," Brandon said, his voice shaking. "It doesn't decide whether you've committed a crime."
The board also voted to appoint an independent temporary signatory and proceed with a properly noticed member election on Delilah's remaining board position. She would no longer control the association checkbook by herself. For the first time since she became president, Delilah was being told no by people she could not fine into silence.
She looked toward the camera. "This is a coordinated attack on a successful woman," she said. "And I will not be bullied out of office by a mob."
Jennifer Walsh asked whether she would make the missing contracts available for independent review. Delilah refused to answer the question and demanded that the camera be turned off. When the management representative explained the filming had been authorized for the open portion of the meeting, she picked up her folder and walked toward the door.
"You'll all regret this," she said.
Ethel called after her, "The special election notice will be delivered according to the bylaws. You will have the same right as any other member to respond."
I wish that had been the end. It would have been a quiet, respectable conclusion to a long and unpleasant campaign. The members could have voted, the accountant could have finished the review, and the prosecutor could have decided what the evidence justified.
Delilah preferred a larger audience. She left the clubhouse and began shouting into her phone before she reached the sidewalk.
Patricia told everyone to remain inside while the management representative closed the meeting's formal business. I stayed seated for another five minutes, listening to my neighbors discuss next steps with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. Nobody had received an answer to the central financial questions, but they had finally begun taking responsibility for asking them.
When we came outside, Delilah was standing beside her BMW, telling a dispatcher that she had been threatened by a mob and was being prevented from leaving. The driveway exit was open. Nobody stood near her car, and the clubhouse doors were behind her.